Hollow House stands at the end of an old schoolyard, an abandoned piece of land that had the misfortune of being converted into a psych ward. Gravel crunches under my feet as I walk towards the shadow sitting on the metal swing, the pit of dread in my stomach growing with every step I take.
Once you come in, you don’t come out.
Graffiti stains the faded brick building, twisted words that wretch an old man’s mouth apart in a silent scream. Insects skitter along his tongue, fanning each letter until they are swallowed and choked into existence.
Fucking disturbing doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Do they not hire somebody to wash away the paint?”
It’s hard to tear my eyes away from the mural, but once I do, the sight doesn’t get any better.
Marlin Seaborn sits calmly on the rusty swing set, every shift of his body sending a metallic screech into the sky. He’s got a notebook in his hands, an old leather thing that looks like it’s been through the wringer one too many times.
“A cleaner comes around every few months but there is always a new piece waiting to replace it.”
The pale strands of his hair seem to glow in the moonlight. A sick sort of halo that casts an angelic glow over the expensive suit he’s got on.
Three piece, cuff links, and shoes to fucking match.
You would think the guy is hitting the runway, not committing a crime.
“Calista is helping Vector set up the entrance for the ventilation system.” Violet, unnaturally bright eyes find mine, “She will not be joining our excursion tonight.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to.” A smirk hits his mouth, “Your features do little to hide the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. You are an easy man to read, Christopher Deville, and I am afraid that is a dangerous trait to have in a town like this.”
I glare at him, fed up with his pompous attitude and the perfectly coifed hair.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“No. I suppose you didn’t.” Amusement flares momentarily, “Although your hatred of wealthy men clearly stems from theabandonment issues you have with your mother. A pity, really, because you would have done well following in her footsteps. You possess a natural charm that is not easy to teach and the kind of unkept manners that married women find appealing.”
“Are you always this rude or do you just like pissing people off?”
Venom spikes my tongue, the toxic combination of my mother and not enough sleep putting a grey fucking cloud over my head.
“A bit of both, I’m afraid.” He jots down a couple more lines before flipping the notebook closed, “There are only so many ways to trigger a reaction and I am quite fascinated by them all.”
Unsettling words that have me shifting uneasily.
“If you’re done writing in your diary, can we go now?”
He smiles at my sharp tone, a creepy fucking smile that has me wishing I was partnered with anyone else tonight.
“Lead the way.”
Crows call in the distance, undisguisable cries that clip at our heels as we head towards the psych ward. Barbed wire fences rise up near the entrance, a strange funneling system that forces us into a single file line up until we reach the front steps.
Hollow House Vacancy: Now Open for New Patients.
Neon red lights blink ominously, an unnatural glow that hangs over the reinforced steel doors waiting below.
Thick and impenetrable, they’re the kind of doors meant to keep people inside.
Not keep people out.
The last bit of fresh air brushes the back of my neck as I push through the front door. It opens with a groan, blasting my nostrils with the sterile scent of a hospital and overused chemicals.
