Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

I ’m sitting across from Marissa at breakfast, my eyes fixated on the way she unconsciously plays with her diamond ring. I can’t help but notice her slender, meticulously manicured fingers with their pointed nails and delicate moons, lacquered with a colorless glossy polish, twisting and turning the platinum band. The center diamond dazzling each time the light hits it the right way.

I sip my coffee, nibbling on a tasteless croissant, trying to shake the unease that's settled over me since last night’s nightmares. When I finally muster the courage to speak, my voice comes out raw, cracked from lack of sleep, amongst other things . “Has anyone noticed anything strange around here?" I ask.

“Like how weak this coffee is?” Griffin quips. “Or that the Wi-Fi is almost non-existent, and I actually had to buy porn on the hotel TV last night?”

“No, like a really creepy feeling,” I say, half-expecting them to laugh. I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “I had the most awful nightmares.”

An awkward silence falls over the table. Jonathan leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “A nightmare, huh?” he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe you were too busy sneaking in and out of someone else’s room to get any sleep, Tori. Must be hard to rest when you’re preoccupied with other… activities that are far from decent.”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Anger. I look down, my appetite vanishing along with any hope for a pleasant breakfast.

Tessa drops her fork, fumbling to catch it, but it clatters loudly against her plate. “They decorated this place to be creepy, remember? I showed you in the brochure.” She hesitates, glancing around. “But, uh, I did have a nightmare too.” I can tell she’s lying, trying to divert the attention from Jonathan’s jab. I’m grateful. I don’t know if Hayes wants anyone to know about us—if he’s even interested in more than what happened last night. “Tori, what was yours about?” Tessa asks a little too eagerly.

“Someone was in the room with me?—”

Jonathan scoffs.

“Don’t be childish,” I whisper through gritted teeth. I turn my attention back to Tessa. “There was a woman. She was covered in blood.”

Marissa shoots me a glare over her plate of eggs benedict. “Oh, come on, Tori,” she snaps. “Who’s acting like a child now? Stop being so theatrical. We’re too old for these Halloween pranks.”

“But it’s perfectly acceptable for you guys to bang on my door and walls all night and running up and down the hallway like a fucking marching band?” The tension at the table spikes, my words hanging heavily in the air. I usually never talk back to any of my friends. Never stand up for myself.

Jonathan’s eyes narrow. “You know, Tori, it’s almost impressive how you manage to make everything about you,” he says coldly. “First of all, nobody did that to you last night. Maybe if you stayed in your own bed instead of jumping onto Hayes’s dick—or that greasy security guard’s—you’d have fewer things to have nightmares about.”

Marissa barks out a sharp laugh.

A lump forms in my throat. I grip my coffee cup tightly, my fingers trembling. I glance around the table, hoping for some support, but Griffin is focused on poking at his bacon, and Tessa won’t meet my eyes.

“You know what, Jonathan?” I say, my voice shaking. “Maybe you should worry less about what I’m doing and more about your own actions.”

“There’s nothing I’ve done that I’m ashamed of, Tori,” Jonathan says, his voice cool and defiant.

“What about two weeks ago when you were ringing my doorbell at two in the morning, asking to stay over,” I shoot back.

He laughs, a hollow sound. “I never did that. You’re fucking crazy.”

“I have a doorbell camera, asshole.”

A heavy silence falls over the table, the weight of my words sinking in. Jonathan's smirk falters, and I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes. For a moment, I feel a spark of satisfaction, but it quickly fades, leaving only the discomfort of watching Marissa’s expression morph into sheer shock, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth.

I push my plate away, suddenly nauseous, and stand. “I need some air,” I mutter, turning away from the table.

I can’t believe I said that out loud—I hadn’t told anyone else. And maybe he did just come over to talk, but that’s not how things ever worked between us. It was always about sex with him, every time he showed up at my door.

It’s getting easier and easier to see that now.

I meander through the long hallways, taking my time admiring the gothic-chic aesthetic of all the paintings and little knickknacks along the way. The air thick with the scent of aged wood and spiced cinnamon.

At the end of one hall, an ornate door stands half-open, revealing an enormous library that takes my breath away. Shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, filled with leather-bound books, their spines cracked and worn. I step inside, drawn to the musty scent and inhale deeply. Nothing else in this world smells better.

A faint rumble of thunder outside makes me glance out of one of the tall French doors that leads to the stone terrace. The morning has turned unexpectedly dark with heavy clouds casting deep shadows. I trail my fingertips along the spines of the books that crowd the shelves— The Exorcist. The Shining. The Ruins. Ghost Story. Carrie. Christine .

As I pause in front of The Haunting of Hill House, it seems as though something shadowy falls across my path for a brief moment—but it was only the glow from the flameless candle sconces that decorate the walls. The room is both enchanting and eerie, with a gray-stone fireplace casting shadows that twist like outstretched hands reaching for the ceiling.

A few fat splatters of rain hit the tall, curtainless windows, clinging heavily against the glass. I lean my forehead against the cool surface of one of them when a text alerts on my phone.

Unknown number: How did u sleep last night?

Me: Who is this?

Unknown number: Ur personal security guard.

Lyle? How did he get my number.

Me: How did you get my number?

Unknown number: I get anything I want.

Me: Are there special effects set up to scare us?

Unknown number: U and ur friends can come to the park tonight at midnight.

Midnight?

Me: Nothing good happens in abandoned amusement parks at midnight.

Unknown: LMAO. See u then.

There’s a noise just behind me. I whirl around, heart hammering, but the library is empty. The door at the opposite side of the room stands open to the hall, a silent invitation for me to leave.Then, I hear it—creaks like footsteps. One. Two. Three. Four. Each step sends a chill down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. An overwhelming sense of dread washes over me. Someone is here, I can feel it, but there's no one in sight.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and push open the French doors, stepping quickly out onto the terrace. I need air. Cool, crisp air.

I sit on a stone bench, shivering even though the breeze is mild. I spin around, sensing eyes on me again. But again, there’s no one. There has to be a logical reason why I keep feeling this sensation. Maybe there are hidden noise machines scattered throughout the building.I know you can buy them online for less than thirty dollars.

God, I always loved this time of year, but this uncertainty and uneasiness—it’s different this year. I’m just not feeling it. I’m sure it has to do with the whole thing with Jonathan.

Fucking Jonathan.

He’s going to be furious about what I said in front of Marissa. But I wasn’t lying. He stood outside my door for fifteen minutes that night, waiting for me to let him in.

I didn’t. If he thinks I’m not the one, I won’t allow myself to be his number two either.

I follow a stone pathway along the perimeter of the chateau until the scenery becomes familiar, matching the view from my window. A black cat with bright yellow eyes sits at the entrance to the gardens, watching me.

Maybe it’s Agatha’s familiar . She certainly dresses like an 18 th century witch.

Maybe I just need to sleep. Hayes had the right idea. I look up toward the window of my room and sigh.

The curtains suddenly flit open, as if someone is peeking out, then settle back into place. What the hell? Who’s in my room? I break into a jog, rounding the front of the building, the sound of my boots crunching on the gravel path unnervingly loud. I rush through the front entrance and take the spiral stairs two at a time. My hands shake as I fumble with the keycard, finally sliding it into the lock. I listen for the click and shove the door open.

Inside my room, an unsettling emptiness greets me. I close the door behind me, trying to catch my breath. Everything is where I left it—except now there’s a single black rose on the bedside table. Its velvety petals are unnervingly pristine, and perched delicately atop them is a small white stone carved into a grotesque skull.The stark contrast of the macabre adornment sends an icy tingle racing up my back.

My pulse quickens as I step closer to the table. Beside the rose is a note, scrawled on the hotel’s blood-splattered stationary, the fake blood looking almost too real under the dim light.

I hope you like the gift I left you.

A wave of panic crashes over me. Lyle. It has to be Lyle. This is too much—why would he do this? Is he trying to scare me? Is he dangerous? My hands tremble as I fumble for my phone, fingers shaking uncontrollably. I hastily type a message to Tessa, my heart hammering as I hit send.

Me: Someone left a black rose and a skull stone in my room. There’s a note too. Get here now.

I stare at the message, willing Tessa to respond quickly. The room feels colder, the silence pressing in on me, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not alone.