But I’m out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere here.
I’ve never been able to understand how people enjoy living in the country. Or off the grid. Not a lifestyle for me.
Something catches my attention. A noise.
Not my own ragged breathing, but . . . something else.
It stops as quickly as it started.
If Adrian could see me now, he’d probably laugh.
Going on my list of things I hate . . . old houses. And on that note, it’s time to get out of this room.
Quietly, I slip into the hallway. The air is colder out here, sharper. I start walking, hoping if I just keep moving, my mind will fucking settle.
Dark, empty corridors stretch on and on in front of me like some winding labyrinth. My boots barely make any sound on the hardwood, but my breath is thick, heavy. Damp. It clouds in front of me every time I exhale.
The back of my neck prickles, like there are eyes following me. I glance over my shoulder, but the hallway’s empty.
Just me. No Adrian. No one.
“Yeah, no fucking old manors for me. Not ever.”
But there’s a weight in the walls, the way they seem to ripple the farther I go, each step pulling me deeper into the house’s belly.
“God, I’m being fucking ridiculous.”
Maybe Adrian wasn’t just talking shit when he said the house has a way of getting inside your head.
And then I hear it.
A creak.
My breath catches. It’s faint, coming from behind—barely louder than the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. I stop, turning slowly, but there’s nothing there. Nothing but the dark hallway stretching behind me and the dim flicker of a sconce casting long, jittery shadows against the walls.
Another creak, this time closer.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I pick up my pace, hands clenched and fingernails digging into my palms in some pathetic attempt to ground myself, to control my shaking body.
But the faster I walk, the more I hear them.
Footsteps.
And not mine.
Something heavy, following in the dark, just a hair too quiet to be real.
I turn another corner, the layout of the manor spinning in on itself. This place is a madhouse, twisting me around, pulling me into its damn games. Every corridor looks the same—impossibly long, lined with the same faded portraits of strangers whose eyes feel too real, too focused—as if they’re tracking my every move.
“Christ, am I losing it? Why the fuck did I let Adrian talk me into coming here? I’m such a fucking idiot.”
There’s a door ahead of me, nearly hidden by the shadows. It’s small, almost unassuming, the kind you wouldn’t notice right away. But there’s something off about it, something that tugs at me the way Adrian’s gaze does.
I turn the handle and the door opens, revealing a room bathed in a harsh, almost sterile light. The contrast to the dim corridors is jarring, like I’ve stepped into another fucking world.
I blink, adjusting to the sudden brightness, then take a step inside.
“What the fuck . . . ”
