Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

T ime drags, each second stretching into an eternity. I pace the room, my mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. My eyes dart to every shadow, every corner, expecting something—or someone—to emerge. What is Lyle playing at?

Finally, after what feels like hours, there’s a soft knock on my door. My room door has no peephole like the others do, so I can’t see who it is. I quietly slide the chain lock across and crack the door open just an inch. Tessa’s face appears, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Hurry,” she giggles, “let me in.”

I stare at her through the gap, wondering why the fuck she’s giggling right now.

“Look what I brought,” she says, still giggling, pulling a small plastic bag of ghost-shaped edibles from her back pocket. She waves them in the air, shimmying her hips. “I’m not sharing with the guys. They don’t deserve them,” she adds breathlessly as I unlock the door and let her inside.

She rushes in and immediately shoves one in my face, smashing it up against my lips. “Open up. You need to calm down.” I oblige, figuring she just might be right.

“Is that the…” she starts, her gaze landing on the black rose. She trails off, picking it up with a curious expression. I nod quickly.

“What do you think?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

She lets out a long sigh and settles herself on the couch in the sitting area of the room, crisscross-applesauce. I sit next to her, folding my legs underneath me. She places the skull-faced stone between us.

“I don’t really know how to say this,” she begins, popping two edibles in her mouth.

“Just spit it out.”

“Look, it’s just that all this creepy, scary stuff is supposed to be what’s happening, and I think Jonathan being here with Marissa is just making you a little off kilter.”

“You think that security guard, Lyle, is supposed to come in my room when I’m not here and leave me skull-faced flowers?” I ask, incredulous.

“Um, yes,” she replies, deadpan. “I showed you the brochure. This is like a…” she uses air quotes as she talks, “‘haunted house you can stay in to immerse yourself in the Halloween experience.’ It says so right in the brochure.” She pulls the brochure out from the back pocket of her jeans and hands it to me.

“Tessa, you don’t understand,” I say, sitting up straighter.

“No, I get it, Tori. Really, I do. We’re all shocked that Jonathan and Marissa are together, and maybe you’re really not into this weekend.”

“What I’m talking about has nothing to do with Jonathan and Marissa?—”

“Tori, come on,” she interrupts with a sigh. “Can you just try to have a nice weekend and get into the spooky holiday spirit like you always used to? Just forget Jonathan. It’s been over two months now, hasn’t it?”

“I slept with Lyle,” I say flatly.

She freezes, staring at me. “Wait, what? I knew you lied about knowing him. When? Last night?”

“No,” I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Last night I slept with Hayes. The night before, I was with Lyle, before we came here.”

“How?”

“I met him at a bar in town the night before we were all supposed to meet up.”

Tessa’s eyes widen, and for a moment, there’s silence. Then she asks, almost too casually, “How was Hayes?”

“I didn’t tell him. He has no clue.”

“No,” Tessa laughs, “I mean, how was Hayes? I’ve always wondered what he was like in bed.”

“Phenomenal,” I admit. “After Hayes, I have no thoughts about being with Jonathan, now or ever again. But this rose,” I say, lifting the flower as if it were a ticking bomb, “is from a guy I had a one-night stand with and left his weird all-white apartment without ever telling him my real name.”

“Oh, shit,” she says, her eyes like saucers.

“Yeah, now you get it.”

“How, uh, drunk were you?”

“Extremely.”

“Yikes. What are you going to do?” she asks, shifting on the sofa closer to me. “Maybe we shouldn’t go tonight?” Her gaze drops down to her hands, and I can tell she hopes I’ll brush this off and not ruin her carefully planned horror-filled weekend.

I unfold the brochure that she’d just given me and look through its advertisement.

Welcome to Everwood Estates:

The Ultimate Haunted Getaway!

Do you thrive on the thrill of the unknown? Does the idea of unexplained whispers and ghostly apparitions excite you? Then Everwood Estates is your perfect escape. Immerse yourself in an eerie experience like no other at our haunted mansion, where the past lingers and the supernatural is just a heartbeat away.

Spine-Tingling Atmosphere:

Feel the chill in the air as you explore rooms where time has stood still. From flickering candlelight to creaky floorboards, every detail is designed to send shivers down your spine.

Ghostly Encounters:

Spend the night in rooms rumored to be frequented by restless spirits. Listen closely for the faint sound of footsteps, or catch a glimpse of a shadow moving in the corner of your eye. Are you brave enough to meet our spectral residents?

Historic Charm:

Our haunted manor is steeped in history, with each room telling a tale of its own. Wander through the corridors and discover the stories of former inhabitants who, for reasons unknown, still call this place home.

Everwood Estates is proud to present a new concept of interactive entertainment: Everwood’s Abandoned Amusement Park Escape Room! You have two hours and one goal. Escape before your time runs out!

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a ghost hunter? Or maybe how it would feel to be in a horror movie like Saw or It? Could you escape a maximum-security prison or survive a night in a haunted asylum?

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 feeling are part 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 seems to 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.

She pauses, her eyes searching mine. “And I hate that we only really see each other during our October trips with the gang. I don’t want us to drift apart.”

We already have. She just doesn’t want to say it out loud because then we’d really have to talk about it. I think about telling her how different she is now from the girl she used to be in college—the girl that would shop in the dollar store bins with me for pretty much everything, from food to clothes, now wears red-soled shoes and uses a food service that delivers freshly prepared dinners to her house every night.

I still shop in the dollar bins because I still have to.

This weekend alone has drained seventy-five percent of my savings.

We are not the same anymore.

I squeeze her hand back and manage a weak smile. "Maybe we should make more of an effort to meet up outside of the getaway," I say, though I know it’s a lie. It’s not just our schedules that have changed. It’s us. But for now, I’ll let her hold on to the illusion that we can somehow bridge this gap that’s grown between us. Between all of us. “And I’m sure seeing Lyle again at this silly amusement park tour will be fine. It won’t be an issue. We’ll all have a good time there.”

No, we won’t. And I think this might be the last friend’s getaway I go on for a long time.

“Great,” she says, jumping up from the couch. “Oh, I’m so relieved. Okay, now,” she says, spinning around. “I reserved some fun spa treatments in town. We have vampire facials,” she says, ticking off each absurdly named spa treatment on her fingers, “witches brew bath soak with pumpkin spice body scrub, ghostly hot stone massages, mummy wraps, and a zombie toxin detox treatment.” She pauses, her expression suddenly serious. "And Tori, if you can't, you know,” she bites at her thumbnail, “pay or have any trouble, just let me know. I’ll cover it for you." Her words sting—a reminder of the widening gap between our worlds.

“Oh, that all sounds great,” I say, faking a smile, “but I didn’t get any sleep last night. Maybe I’ll just stay here and catch up for a few hours and meet you all for dinner.”

“Oh, okay,” she replies as I walk her to the door. “I’ll text you where we go for dinner. I’m thinking lobster and crab legs, or... we could do something a little less, uh, extravagant.” She hesitates just outside the door, making a pouty face—such a childish gesture. I know I should say something light, maybe make a self-deprecating joke to ease the awkwardness, but instead, I just stare back at her and say nothing.

“Right, okay. I’ll talk to you later then,” she says, clearly uncertain.

I want to tell her that lobster and crab legs sound delicious—because they do, I just can’t afford them right now—instead I just nod, close the door, and dig myself out another suitcase drink.

Her edibles suck.

I sit on the edge of the couch, the small bottle of whiskey half-empty beside me. The warmth of the alcohol spreads through my veins. I take a long gulp, feeling the burn as it goes down, and lean back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. I sip again and again.

My eyelids feel heavy, and I blink slowly, the room starting to blur around the edges. I rub them, trying to shake off the drowsiness, but it doesn’t help. The whiskey has made me feel warm and lethargic, my thoughts drifting aimlessly: Black roses. Creepy security guards. Jonathan. Hayes.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes, jolting me out of my thoughts. I grab it, expecting a text or notification, but the screen is blank.

Siri’s voice cuts through the silence. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand. Can you repeat the question?”

I’m so confused. I haven’t touched the phone or prompted Siri at all. I look around the room, half-expecting to see someone there, but I’m alone.

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” Siri whispers.

Siri whispers?

My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at my phone.

“I didn’t get that, could you try again?” Siri asks. The voice is different—lower, more sinister. It’s not Siri’s usual calm tone. Panic sets in. Is this some sort of trick? I frantically look around the room for whatever device might be making my phone act possessed, but there’s nothing.

I drop the phone, my hands shaking. The screen goes dark, but then it lights up again, and Siri speaks once more, her voice distorted and creepy. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

With trembling hands, I try to turn off the phone, but it won’t respond. The screen is frozen. “Siri, turn off,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Siri responds, her voice almost mocking.

I toss the phone onto the couch—but the couch is gone. The room around me warps and shifts, and I’m suddenly standing in a different place entirely.

A rancid smell hits me, thick and nauseating, like rotting meat mixed with something acrid and metallic. In the corner, a dim, flickering light reveals the ghostly figure of Liliana. Her form is translucent and eerie, hunched over a pile of clothes, her fingers clawing through them with frantic, jerky movements.

I gasp. Her head snaps up, and her hollow, sunken eyes meet mine. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Instead, a chilling, unnatural wail echoes through my head, reverberating off my skull, making my bones vibrate. She stands, then squats back down, her movements disjointed and unnatural, like a marionette on tangled strings.

The temperature plummets, and I can see my breath misting in the cold air in front of me. Liliana’s mouth twists into a grotesque grin, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. When she finally speaks, her voice is a guttural hiss. "Revenge is always fun."

A new sound reaches my ears, like a faucet left running. The strong, sour smell of urine invades my senses as glistening trails of piss drench the clothes beneath her and pool around her feet.

The temperature in the room drops even further, and I feel the icy cold seep into my bones. I watch, horrified, as Liliana’s grin widens, her jagged teeth catching the flickering light. Her eyes, dark and hollow, bore into mine with a terrifying intensity. She straightens, her movements still disjointed, and starts to creep toward me, her feet sliding through the puddle of urine.

Her bony, translucent hand stretches out, fingers splayed, each nail long and claw-like. She inches closer, her hand reaching for my face, her voice a chilling whisper. “You know pain… like I did,” she breathes, her breath a cold fog in the air between us.

I’m frozen, unable to move, my heart jackhammering in my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The room around me spins, the walls closing in as her fingers get closer, inches from my skin. Her eyes burn with a dark fire, and just as I feel the icy touch of her nails graze my cheek, I start to scream.