You and your friends, family, or colleagues will be inside a highly realistic series of themed rooms. With just two hours to escape, you’ll need to rely on your logic, instinct, and critical thinking to navigate your surroundings. Search for secret passages, solve intricate puzzles, crack codes, and uncover hidden mysteries to find your way out. Do you have what it takes?
Book Your Stay—If You Dare!Test your courage and spend the night at Everwood Manor, where the line between the living and the dead blurs. Are you ready to embrace the unknown and experience a haunting like no other?
Reserve your room now and prepare for an unforgettable encounter with the supernatural.
My shoulders slump with relief. All these things I’m seeing and feelingarepart of this place. “But how did I have such a terrifying nightmare last night?”
“Hun, last night I had a nightmare about a scraggly-haired clown climbing onto the bed with me, singing the national anthem.”
I burst into a fit of giggles.Oh, the edible just kicked in.
Tessa smiles but then lowers her voice. “Look, Tori, about Jonathan,” she begins softly. “I had no idea you were with him until you called me after seeing those texts from Marissa.” Her tone is apologetic. “I feel awful that I didn’t realize you guys were... messing around.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”And to me it was more than messing around.
"Are you still doing the figure modeling?" Tessa asks, changing the subject, her tone light and casual.
"Yeah, it’s not much, but it’s steady pay, you know," I respond, pushing out a smile and hoping my discomfort doesn't show.
"I always envied you," Tessa continues, oblivious to my internal struggle. "You’re so comfortable in your own body to do that, you know.” She laughs lightly. “In college we were all so jealous of you. Everyone on our floor. You would just walk around in nothing; you had no shame.”
I never learned to have any.
“God, it would drive Marissa crazy.” She laughs.
“You make it sound like I was always naked. I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, you kind of were.”
“I really don’t remember doing that.”
“It was college, and we were kids. Always drinking. I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t remember.”
What the hell does that mean? She was right there doing everything with me!
“Have you done any new pieces? Do you have any artwork we can go see somewhere?" Tessa asks.
A pang of embarrassment hits me, sharp and unyielding. The truth is, I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years. Painting has become a deeply triggering experience after the devastating humiliation of my first and only gallery show. When I used to paint, my artwork was a part of me, like a raw, unfiltered expression of my soul. Sharing that now feels impossible.
And right now, admitting this, would feel like reopening an old wound, a crappy reminder that my life isn’t where I imagined it would be. My dreams are heartbreakingly out of reach. But I can't bring myself to be this vulnerable in front of her. Not anymore.
"Not yet," I manage to say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hopefully soon. I’m building my portfolio and getting a lot of positive feedback."
“That’s really great, Tori. I’m happy for you,” Tessa says, but her sigh is heavy, almost wistful. “My life is all work, it’s so stressful. I don’t have time to date, and God, I don’t even remember the last time I had sex.” She leans her head back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Does it still work the same, sex? Do people still meet in bars and stuff and just get together, or is there some new way of doing things now?”
I muster a small laugh. "People definitely still meet in bars, Tessa. But there are definitely new ways, too. Dating apps are a big thing now, and there are all sorts of online communities where people connect."
Tessa sighs again, shaking her head. “I’m not good with that stuff, not really good with men either. You, on the other hand, always had your pick. You always got everyone you wanted. Guys and girls.”
My heart sinks at her words. That's not true. I've never had a real relationship—unless you count Charles, and even that turned out to be nothing. I want to correct her, but when I try to speak, my voice is small and uncertain. “Tessa, it’s not like that for me. It’s mostly been people who just want to sleep with me…” I trail off, feeling that familiar sadness settle in.
She doesn’t seem to get it. “That’s really great, Tori. You’re lucky to have been born with your gene pool. I’d have a blast with it too. You do you.” She sighs again, still missing the point. "I just don’t have the time or energy to put myself out there. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find a balance."
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find worth.
Tessa grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Oh, Tori. I miss our long talks and how we used to tell each other everything. It seems like we barely talk anymore.”
It’s not like I haven’t tried. She’s always so busy. She works for one of the largest accounting and consulting firms in the United States, and this weekend is the only time she ever seemsto set aside for socialization with me. Our other two friends Ellis and Sullivan work there as well. I haven’t seen them at one of our annual getaways in probably two years.
