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“Me?”
“Of course.” I know him I know him I know him.
But I can’t place from where.
“I can help you, you know.”
“You can?”
He nods.
“Let’s get out of here. I’ll show you where horrid things hide.”
His smile is one of camaraderie, and any port in a storm.
When we’re in the driveway, he turns to me.
“Maybe you should’ve brought a wrap. You might get cold.”
But he puts the top down on his car anyway, and we speed through the night, away from Whitley.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask, relieved to be so far away.
He glances at me.
“Someplace you should see. If you think you want to be with Dare, you should know all about him.”
“Do you know Dare?”
“Of course,” he says. “He’s my brother.”
I’m surprised, but not, because I knew that I knew that I knew that. I just don’t remember how. There’s something in his voice now, something rigid, and I startle, because maybe I shouldn’t have chosen this port.
He turns down a dark road, a quiet lane, and then we pull to a stop in front of an old, crumbling building.
“Come on,” he calls over his shoulder, traipsing up the steps. The sign by the door says Oakdale Sanitarium and I freeze.
“What is this place?” I whisper as he opens the door.
“You’ll have to see it to believe it,” he murmurs.
In front of us, a long hallway yawns farther than I can see, the walls crumbling with age, the lights dim when he flips a switch.
There’s no one here, but I can hear moans, screams, whimpers.
“I don’t understand,” I feel like whimpering myself. He rolls his eyes.
“Do you really think someone like Dare is without baggage? Grow up, little girl.”
He pushes open the doors as we pass, and they’re all empty, every single one.
But I feel presences here,
Ugliness.
When we’re almost at the end of the hall, he turns to me, his gaze ugly now and I should’ve known.
In my head, I see Dare and he’s so small.
