In the Arizona hills, behind a gate no one leaves, stands Serenity Springs Recovery Center. One hundred and twenty-two men roam its hallways, trading cigarettes and lies, cooking alcohol under their beds, counting days that never add up to clean. But something worse than addiction lives at the end of the second floor. Room 1901 has no lock. The door opens for anyone. The men who enter come out changed—not sober, not healed, but hollowed. Erased. They walk the hallways with nothing behind their eyes. They don't remember their mother's face. They don't feel the sun. And no one knows what happens inside. Three men will enter. Three men will learn the room's secret. None of them will leave the same—or leave at all. The Room at the End is Stephen King's dread meeting Frieda McFadden's twists. You will not sleep the same after.
