60. Emily

60

EMILY

I stared up at the towering brick building, my glare catching on the endless barred windows that left me to wonder if they were meant to keep people in or prevent them from getting out. It sounded like the same thing but I promise you there was a difference.

If you'd ever felt trapped somewhere, you knew what I meant.

Then I lifted a tentative finger and pressed the button, waiting for the buzzer that would grant me access to this Amityville horror house with a hint of that just lobotomized charm.

When the metal doors started moving inward on their own, I jumped back a step and caught a glimpse of the little red blinking light that told me I was being watched. The rundown loony bin didn't seem the sort to have automated anything, so it took me by surprise when I crept forward and was surrounded by bright-white paint and a high-tech security system—all welcoming me to Briarwood Sanitorium.

I glanced at a few outdated photos framed and propped up on a table near the main door and had to admit it was a little jarring. Imagining what it would be liked to be trapped within these walls, dropped off on the doorstep because your family didn't want to deal with your version of crazy anymore. A thought that sent a shiver down my spine and accompanied a chill that landed at the base of my tailbone.

The place was soundless, other than the squeak of my shoes against the matching white tiles. I could only imagine how much the janitor had to invest in bleach to keep everything so… shiny. While the maze of hallways and doors left me feeling like Alice, ready to jump down the rabbit hole at the same time my inner voice mumbled something about not drinking any potions I happened to stumble across along the way.

"Hello…?" I called out and listened as the word echoed back at me. A little fainter and a lot more breathy. But it didn't change the fact I was alone. Or at least that was the way someone wanted it to seem.

I took another tentative step to my left, my hand creeping into my pocket and grabbing my phone. And glanced down at the screen, only to realize I didn't have any bars. I wasn't so far out of the city that I should be losing service, which meant something or someone was blocking the signal from the inside.

Just one more reason I should have been spinning around and looking for the closest exit. Instead of moving farther down the abandoned halls as the lights seemed to sense my presence and flick on over my path so that I could make out the next few feet of tile. Then the next. And the next. And the next. Until I was standing at another junction, walls and doors climbing as far as the eye could see.

This was getting me nowhere but lost. And quick. Though I didn't know what choice I had, considering I wasn't sure I could find my way back to the entrance if I tried.

Drop the box off, Emily.

It was meant to be simple. Deliver a package and be on my way. But there was no mention of what to do if there was no one here to accept it. I highly doubted Marisela would appreciate me tucking the thing under the mat and calling it a job well done. While something in my gut told me letting her down came with more than a spot in the unemployment line. It didn't matter how long I'd known her, the woman didn't make friends. She made connections and then she severed them.

Just ask Tate… if you could find him. The cops couldn't.

I took a deep breath, deciding I was better off trying to navigate a hall of funhouse mirrors than figuring out which direction to turn in this literal nuthouse. Pivoted around and headed back the way I came. Except I wasn't headed that way at all.

I peered to the left and then over to the right. Nothing looked familiar—in reality it all looked familiar because it all looked the same—and the lights weren't following me anymore. And before I realized what I was doing, I was running. Turning corners. Stopping short and changing direction. The package the last thing on my mind by this point.

My heart was pounding against my chest, thudding and fluttering in a rhythm that felt completely unnatural as I attempted to find a way out, succeeding in finding a way further in . Running around in the dark was a lot like staying in one spot while everything seemed to run around you instead.

None of my other senses did the thing where they were supposed to compensate for my lack of sight. It was the opposite really. I couldn't hear anything but the thumping behind my ears, couldn't feel anything but the prickling of my own skin, and all I smelled was the fear radiating off my body in waves. Until I came face-first with a wall.

A wall that was somehow able to reach out and clamp down around my shoulders, my arms pinned to my sides as I was lifted in the air and tossed into a metal cart. A wheelbarrow, I realized as my ass slid deeper into the slanted bottom, my hands fumbling for the sides as I tried to pull myself up. Only to be shoved back down before a bag was thrown over my head and yanked tight.

Everything was muffled after that. All I could hear were the squeaking and occasional clanking of metal wheels along the sleek tiles, the interior of the bag puffing out and quickly clinging to my mouth as I tested the breathability of the fabric each time my chest failed to completely rise. The lack of oxygen rendered me immobile, my limbs growing heavy and slipping to my sides. My head dipping forward and my neck twisted at an odd angle—which should have been painful but wasn't.

And then the world was quiet. Warm. Dark. It wasn't so bad actually…