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I can’t see her face, as her head is tilted to the ground, her brown, stringy, wet hair draped over her face. She holds on to an IV pole, the bag empty, depleted, dried up.
“Who are you?” I bark, shoving Hazel behind me. I can hear the stairs creaking as she makes her way up. Hazel reaches out, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she breathes heavily in my ear.
“She’s not alive, Felix,” she whispers on a shaky breath.
Her arm curls over my shoulder as she points at the ground. “Look.”
My eyes drop to the feet, peeking out from below the nightgown. Gray, pale, nearly translucent skin.
“Who the fuck are you!” I roar at the figure at the bottom of the stairs.
The tube connecting from the IV into her skin rattles as she moves slightly. Then the cracking starts up again, and I realize it’s not bones cracking, it’s coming from her mouth. Black lips peek through the hair as the cracking grows louder, even faster. Until the noise fills the room so loud Hazel lets out a whimper and covers her ears behind me.
And then it moves forward, lifting the IV pole as it comes up a step. The metal bangs, rattling against the edge of the stairs, her long, sickly pale toes curling as they move up a step, and goosebumps unlike I’ve ever felt roll across my skin.
“Fuck this!” Levi shouts, his feet pounding up the stairs.
I watch as the main level becomes cloaked in darkness, like a disease, viny, black shadows swirling around the walls and floor, making it an abyss, completely indistinguishable.
Another step, and the cracking grows louder.
My eyes widen.
“We need to go!” Hazel shouts, pulling on my shirt.
I nod, my hands wrapping around her waist as I lift her off her feet and sprint up the steps. We rush through the doorway, and I turn around at the last moment, seeing more darkness, like the asylum has been swallowed by a black void. It overtakes the steps, making its way toward us. The woman continues on, just on the edge of darkness, her head tilting to the side, letting out an extra loudcrack.
She tilts her head up, and her age shows, her cheeks sunken in, and all I can see are her protruding cheekbones and hollowed features. She has no teeth, only a black hole where the most decrepit, sinister cracking comes from deep in her chest.
And her eyes, they are empty, as if it’s just a skeleton without a soul, a cage that holds only malice, intent on destroying us.
My eyes widen as hers connect with mine, and I can feel the darkness seeping into me just as it fills these walls. It’s horrifying, and I can do nothing but grab the heavy door that hasn’t been moved in decades, and with all my strength, I pull on it, slamming it closed so hard, the hinges rattle.
“Move, move, move!” Levi and Malik shout, and they rush toward me with an old yellow couch in their grip as they push it across the floor. I flatten myself against the wall as they pin it against the door.
And then simultaneously, we exhale, breathing out the fear that had us in a chokehold downstairs.
We turn around, and once again, we all stop.
This is some type of hallway, with windows along every inch of the walls, showing off the dead gardens, black vines curling around the stone benches, the railings and grass, reaching for the sides of the building.
And above us sits the full moon, though it shouldn’t be full tonight. Not last night either, but here it is, blood red, menacing and sinister. It feels like it’swatching us.
“How is there still a full moon? Wasn’t there a full moon the night of the fire?” Atticus asks, walking up to the window. He wipes it with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, though nothing happens except smearing the grime from years of abandonment.
“It doesn’t make any sense.” Piper walks up to the other window, the tips of her fingers pressing against the glass, the pads growing white from the pressure. “And why is it red? What does it mean?”
“I don’t know, but let’s keep moving. This is creepy as hell, and I’m really trying to get the fuck out of here.” Atticus barrels down the hallway, making his way to the north wing.
We walk quietly down the hall, and once we make it to the north wing, a coldness in the air blankets us all once again. I can tell, because everyone’s body tenses into stone.
Levi steps forward, his hand going to the knob on a closed door. He takes a deep breath, then shoves it open, taking a quick step back.
“Wow,” Vera says, stepping inside the bedroom. There are two small cots, barely legit enough to be considered a twin bed. The sheets are tattered, torn on the edges. I can’t spot any pillows. Only the two beds, and a nightstand in the center. No lamp. The furniture is ancient, almost like it’s handmade, not from some big distributer like we have nowadays.
“This is crazy.” Hazel steps sideways, squeezing between Levi and Malik, making her way to Vera. I watch her, the way she breathes heavily, like she can feel the memories in the room. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and I want to go up to her, breathe her in, feel whatever in the world she’s feeling in this moment.
She’s magical. Whatever it is about her—the blood that runs through her veins or the fibers that patch her together to make Hazel, Hazel. She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and though I want to shove her face into the ground and have her hate me as much as I hate her, right now, I take a moment to appreciate the extravagance that she is. The way her black-and-purple hair flutters around her face and shoulders, how she pulls it to one side, showing off her delicate neck. The way her shirt keeps falling over her shoulder, and she lifts it back up, only for it to fall again, the creamy skin glowing even in the darkness. The way her nose wrinkles when she’s confused, or how her green eyes grow into vibrant gems when something piques her interest.
