2. Charlie

Chapter 2

Charlie

Greg nudges me toward the theme park gate four weeks later, Trish trailing behind. I can’t believe I let my two best friends convince me to join them for this stupid Halloween carnival. I don’t even like Halloween.

Yet here I am, decked out in a pro-level cosplay of my favorite book character and about to head to the stupid haunted house that’s most definitely not giving me the creeps. My friends have opted for a dragon-shifter duo, and unlike me, they look positively excited.

“Babe, stop overthinking it,” Trish scolds me, rubbing the space between my furrowed brows with her blue finger. Her face is painted blue too as part of her getup, contrasting her deep red curls. “His dumb post got taken down. It will be fine.”

“Will it though?” I grumble, scanning my ticket at the barcode machine. It beeps and the gate opens, letting me in. “I can’t fucking believe he posted that stupid picture! And he’s the one that made me wear that crap in the first place.”

“I know it’s no consolation, but the cowgirl stuff looked cute on you. Objectively,” her husband pitches in, earning himself a death glare from me. “But yeah, he had no right to post something so personal. I hope his dick withers.”

I’m sure I could probably buy something to make it happen. I have a voodoo enthusiast buddy who’s got connections on the Dark Web.

Trish throws an arm around my neck, smooching my cheek. “I know this look. You are concocting some evil plan in your smart head. Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

I know she is right, but I’m still fuming. I can’t comprehend why that ass Andy would post such personal pictures just for petty revenge! Ugh.

“Deep breaths, Charlie. And no frowning. You are scaring all the potential stallions that want to get in your pants tonight,” Trish points out, steering me toward the haunted house attraction. “Just focus on having fun. The post is down, and the damage was minimal. I doubt anyone cares that you showed up on the internet in a slightly kinky outfit. That shit happens all the time.”

Still, it wasn’t by my own choice. My controversial photo was posted by Andy without any input from me. If that isn’t the most assholest thing to have ever assholed, I don’t know what is. But, well, Trish is not wrong. The best way to get over it and the stress it caused me is to have some fun and maybe even get laid. It’s been a while and I’m feeling withdrawal symptoms.

We reach the haunted house. It’s a two-story Victorian building with stained glass and ornamented gables. An intentionally messy garden sits at the front, the weeds and overgrown bushes cresting the wrought-iron fence completing the creepy look.

“I hear they have a 99% scare rate,” Trish informs me, dragging me up the creaky stairs.

I wrinkle my nose as the gruff scream of an adult male sounds from somewhere inside. I don’t like this. “With kids, maybe.”

“Oh, yeah? You sure about that, buddy? You look a little pale.” Greg snorts, wiggling his thick dirty blond eyebrows at me.

I aim my best scowl his way. He grins at me in response and pulls the strap-thingy attached to his wings, making them flutter up and down while a dinosaur screech plays from the small speaker attached to their base.

A giggle pours out of me. Even though he’s wearing a dragon costume, he still retains that supermodel look he has going about him. It’s no surprise, really—he represents a bunch of brands, so I suspect it’s something that he can’t really escape because it comes to him naturally. I don’t think I’m bad-looking per se—I’ve got a nice face with high cheekbones and soft features—but he’s what you’d call conventionally attractive.

The staff person posted in front of the house halts us, instructing us to wait until the light above the door goes green. A few more shrieks split the air as glass shatters inside the building. My hackles rise and shivers race down my spine.

I have hated haunted houses ever since my brother took me to my first one as a kid. I must’ve been no older than five, but that stuff traumatized me for life. Trish and Greg don’t officially know about it as I haven’t told anyone, but I highly suspect that they might’ve figured it out because they’ve made it their life’s mission to take me to a haunted house attraction every Halloween.

I study my best friends as they fuss about with each other’s costumes. I’m sure that if I explained they’d understand, though knowing them, they’ll drag me to even more scary places for ‘therapy’ reasons. So, I guess it’s best to keep quiet about my borderline phobia.

When ten more minutes pass and the door sign still shines in red, I hook a finger over my shoulder. “This is taking ages. I’m bored. Wanna check out the shooting range? Or we could do the rollercoaster first?”

Trish snaps her blue gaze to me, planting her hands on her hips. “Are you chickening out, Charlie?”

I arch my eyebrows high. “Who, me? No way! I just thought we came here to have fun.” I give the still red light above the door a pointed look. “This is not particularly fun.”

A noise between a click and a ding sounds then, and the light changes to green. My stomach sinks, cold sweat peppering the back of my neck.

“Wow. Perfect timing, let’s go!” Greg claps his hands, ushering us inside.

God help me.

Taking a deep breath, I plaster on a smile and follow my friends.

Inside, it’s dark inside and smells like firewood. A single chandelier with real candles hangs in the middle of the entry hall, throwing a dim light that barely illuminates the surroundings.

“The front door is now locked. The only way out of this house is via the back entrance. But beware: the kitchen is currently inaccessible, so you must find an alternative way to get to the conservatory,” Trish reads aloud from the framed instructions that are left on the end table near the shoe rack.

“Oh shit, this sounds fun! It’s like an escape room and haunted house in one!” Greg cheers, grabbing the single flashlight that’s hanging off the empty coat hanger.

I suppress a shudder. Amazing. So not only do I have to deal with potential jump scares, but I also have to use my brain. I should’ve stayed home and played games. Obviously, it’s too late now, so there is no point regretting my decision to give into my friends’ excitement for this stupid holiday. I’m already here, so the best course of action would be to get out of here as soon as possible so I can go straight home and sulk in peace while stuffing my face with pizza.

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here. This is so lame,” I whine, snatching the flashlight from him as I head over to a carved wooden door.

It won’t budge. I frown and try the next one. Then the next. Five minutes later, it’s clear that none of the doors will open. We are forced to go upstairs.

Fucking great. Of course we’d have to go through the entire house. Otherwise, how would the staff scare us?

Sighing, I lead the way up, trying to pretend I don’t hear every creak and squeak and rustling noise the house makes. It’s really hard when all I want to do is shut my eyes and hug Trish so she can protect me from whatever real ghosts might haunt this place. I know it’s silly. I don’t really believe in ghosts, but I also, to this day, can’t explain what my five-year-old self saw when my brother and I went to my first haunted house.

“I think we should separate!” Trish announces when the first room we enter is a dead end.

I give her a nasty glare. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? It’s what everyone does in horror movies!”

“Yes, and then they end up dead,” I argue, really really not liking the idea of being on my own.

“Exactly!” She grabs Greg’s hand, dragging him down the corridor. It splits after an alcove with a table and a cushioned bench. “Charlie, you go check the hallway on the other side of the landing. I’ll go left and Greg will go right. We meet up here in ten minutes!”

Before I can protest or list one of the many reasons why this is a bad idea, she’s gone. Greg and I stare at each other for a few seconds and then he shrugs and disappears too.

“Great.”

Grumbling obscenities under my breath, I turn on my heel and stalk toward my designated area. Sconces with candles maintain the overall gloom, offering only enough light so I’m not walking in complete darkness. Doors line up both walls once I pass the lounging area by the stairs, the space between them filled with pictures of eerie landscapes. Most of the rooms I try are locked. The bathroom I slip into smells like mildew and offers no clues as to how we can get to the conservatory, so I move on to the next room.

It’s a children’s bedroom with an attached bathroom. I wave my phone’s flashlight around since Greg took the one provided by the staff. Old toys litter the floor, and a dollhouse looms in the corner, just off the bed. I approach it, my every careful step causing the floorboards to creak.

Just perfect, Charlie. Now the entire ghost population knows where you are.

Speaking of which, other than some scary noises that make me question my life choices now and then, I’m yet to come across an actual scare. Not that I am complaining. In fact, I’m not. I like it this way.

Scrunching my nose as the smell of dust intensifies, I crouch down and peek inside the dollhouse. The entry hall looks exactly like the one downstairs.

“Oh, shit. Is this a replica?”

Sudden excitement thrums in my veins. This must be a clue. Heart racing, I examine the layout. Then I straighten up, cross my arms over my chest and frown. It’s a clue alright. Too bad I’m horrible with directions.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I snap a picture with my phone and turn around. The candles suddenly go out, erasing what little I could see. My phone’s flashlight also goes out, refusing to turn back on as I tap my fingers all over the screen.

My stomach plummets to my feet. Is the stupid haunted house equipped with flashlight jamming devices? Seriously? Do such devices even exist? That’s going a bit overboard.

A hinge screeches from the corridor, then a floorboard creaks.

I swallow hard, trying to get enough air to my lungs.

The light in the bathroom comes on, seeping into the room from under the door. I see a shadow move inside.

Oh no, no, no. Fuck this. I’m not getting possessed here.

I clench my clammy hands into fists. The light turns off. The door hisses open. I bolt, scrambling to turn the flashlight on as I emerge in the corridor. But it refuses to comply. The groan I am about to grace the stupid phone with dies in my throat. I stop dead in my tracks, eyes-wide and brain reeling.

Because this can’t fucking be. The way I came through is gone! There is no corridor, no locked rooms, no creepy paintings. Just a wall with a huge mirror on it.

Oh my god, what is happening here? This is so not funny anymore.

A thud sounds from the room I just left, like the door to the bathroom closing. Fear spears through me, rooting me in place. I need to run. I need to follow the corridor further into the house. It’s bound to lead somewhere, right?

But I can’t, my body frozen in place as the darkness around me swirls and spreads and threatens to eat me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I knew this was a bad idea! I should’ve stayed with Trish or Greg!

But I didn’t. They aren’t here to help me. I am on my own. Inside a creepy house with nowhere to run as a dark outline steps out of the bedroom and blocks the way forward.

My pulse pounds in my ears as hot and cold waves surge through my body. The dark shape approaches me, scraping the wall with its nails. My panicked breathing turns into wheezing. I’m too scared to even move. This is too much.

So I do the only thing any sane person would do in such a life-or-death situation.

I ball my hands into fists, brace my feet firmly on the ground and yell, “Shoo you evil asshole ghost or I’m going to beat the shit out of you! I’m ex special forces and I have a black belt in judo!”

If I can’t run, then I sure as hell am going to fight. Or try to. I don’t actually have a black belt in judo.

“ Really ?” a deep voice whispers in my ear from behind, the sound so tangible I feel it caress my goosebumps-covered neck with its ghostly fingers.

My blood turns to ice, my every nerve-ending shorting. There is someone behind me.

I scream with all my might as my heart tries to hammer its way out of my chest.

Oh my god, there is someone behind me!

I don’t think from that point on, I just act on impulse, spinning on my heel and sending my fist at whoever is trying to kill me. They grunt. I keep hitting. I’m not going to die here. Fuck that.

Shouting at the top of my lungs, I shove with my elbow. My attacker chants some curse in a gibberish language, but my legs are finally working now that adrenaline is in control of my body. This is my chance. I just need to slip the ghost currently trying to haunt me and get past the creepy outline.

No biggie, I’ve already lost it. I got this.

Until I don’t as strong arms encircle my willowy frame and pull me inside the dark wall.