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Liam’s eyes flicker and a beautiful grin pulls at his lips. “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s true too.” He holds up a card and shows it to me. The name on the bottom saysMonica.The image is of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is curly and dark and she wears a sweater up to her chin. “No one knows exactly which stories are true. They all interconnect, you see, but no one knows what ever became of them.”
My eyes couldn’t grow wider if I tried and my hands are noticeably clammy. I look at Liam expectantly. “Do you know the stories?” I pry.
Lanston laughs and throws some popcorn in his mouth. “Looks like we have a fellow horror enthusiast on our hands, Liam.”
“Well?” I look between them.
Liam nods at Lanston, who smirks, stands up, and turns off the lights. We’re plunged into darkness and my heart skitters with fear.
Lanston shuffles back to his seat in the dark and sits close so we’re touching shoulders. Liam’s lighter sparks and he lights the candle on the center of the table.Oh, old school storytelling, huh?
“Do you guys do this often or something?” I whisper to Lanston but he shushes me. He grabs my hands and I can’t help but chuckle at the spectacle they’re making of this.
This is something dramatic and dark, like out of a slasher film. I let them play it out though. It’s fun to get sucked into something so cheesy. A year ago, in my corporate life, I’d scoff and call them childish—but now, I can appreciate the raw fun of it.
Why dull life with the bleary lines that the adult world draws for us? I want to be childish. I want to run free with all the dark things in the night.
I soak it all in as Liam clears his throat. I’m entirely holding my breath for old ghost stories. His sharp features are even more defined in the dim, flickering light. The light draws shadows in a waving motion over his jaw and cheekbones. His eyes are focused solely on me, and the hunger in them stirs up desire in my chest.
“Ten years ago, Monica was a businesswoman. Simple. Quaint. In her early thirties. When she had a family tragedy and found herself mentally unwell, she fell prey to Harlow Sanctum.”
It is the same rumor I heard others talking about—the one from Liam’s articles about those people going missing a decade ago? Lanston scoots in closer to me as Liam goes on.
“She made friends here: Charlie, Bev, and Ned. She also made enemies: Brooke and Vincent. Those five were all sick. All committed to Harlow just as Monica was. But one by one, they each disappeared. In each story, the order changes; no one can say for certain who went missing first. But one fact remains the same: someone got away. Someone finished what they started at Harlow.”
I open my mouth to interrupt but Lanston shushes me again, wrapping his arms around me tightly and chuckling.
“They say that their blood is still beneath layers of paint here. That their bones are buried in the basement under the cement. But no one ever found the six of them. It’s rumored that sometimes you can see them in the recreation room at night, in the reflection of the windows, looking out into the rain and crying. Some say they’re still alive and went on with their lives. But no one, not even the staff, knows for sure.”
Liam stops and blows out the candle. Lanston gets up and turns the lights back on. They both look at me, expecting to see fear twinkling in my eyes or something, but they only find my very unsatisfied expression.
“What the hell was that?” I cross my arms.
Lanston’s smile fades. “That didn’t scare you?”
“No, it made no sense at all.”
Liam shakes his head. “That’s why they made a Clue version of it. It works for the game, doesn’t it? Full of holes and mystery. Multiple endings and whatnot.”
I scowl at him. “I guess so, but how could the staff not know what happened to them? They have files on all of us, don’t they?” I realize I’m anxiously picking at the hem of my sweater and quickly fist my hands at my sides to stop the nervous tick.
“Sure, but this is also a voluntary institute. Many people over the years just decided to up and leave. What do you think happened to Cros—” Lanston catches himself and bites back his words quickly.
Liam shoots him a warning look and his jaw flexes. “People leave constantly without warning. That’s the crux of it.”
I know I shouldn’t push, but I do anyway. Maybe it’s the wine talking but I want to know so badly. Crosby was Liam’s roommate before me. What happened to him? Did he go missing too?
“And who was Crosby?” I demand, pinning Lanston with a look.
“Gone,” Liam bites out and Lanston looks absently down at the board game. “Let’s play already.”
I need to ask Lanston alone or I’ll never get an answer.
I grab a card and Lanston does too. We go through the rules, brush up on the motions, and start playing a round.
What an odd story to spin. I wonder if they were real people. Harlow is certainly real, and the rooms seem to be as well. After hearing the girls talk about the people and seeing the posters for checkout and safety. I figure it has to be loosely real, at least. The board itself is strange, with images of insects and bones spread throughout the rooms like decorations. I’ve seen these images before…
Liam’s journal.
