Lanston invited me and Liam to hang out in his room tonight.
He’s one of the only people here who gets his own room. Apparently, he used to share with Yelina, but due to her bipolar behavior and his improvement, he was rewarded with the best room in the manor.
I can’t help but wonder if Jericho or the staff ever knew about Liam finding him that morning he tried to kill himself. Obviously not, I guess. Unorthodox is a very loose term for what this place is.
Very, very loose.
Liam’s phone dings and he checks it immediately.
“Tell Yelina to stop trying to bone you,” Lanston jests.
“It’s not Yelina, it’s my mom,” Liam says like he’s not particularly happy about it. He shoves his phone back into the pocket of his black hoodie without responding to her.
“Popcorn?” Lanston holds out five different bags of flavored popcorn. I grin and point to the kettle corn. “No way, that’s my favorite too!” He throws a bag of kernels into the microwave and leans against the table, staring down eagerly at the board game he’s laid out for us tonight.
Liam rolls his eyes as he arranges the board. We’re playing a version of Clue that revolves around Harlow Sanctum. Good lord, who on earth thought this was a good design? It stirs up my irrational fear that this place is haunted. Why would anyone make a mystery game based around this place? Did something worthy of a slasher film happen within these walls? My mind runs rampant with everything that may have happened here.
“You don’t like popcorn?” I raise a brow at Liam. He’s been quiet since the music session this morning.
He shoots me a scowl. “Of course I like popcorn. Lanston just gets too excited when you like the same things he does.” I don’t miss his annoyed tone and the subtle way he tries to hide it by taking a gulp from his glass of water.
Lanston smirks easily at him, bringing the bowl of freshly popped kettle corn over. “Do you blame me? I’m obsessed with her.” He winks and presses a kiss to my cheek as he sits down beside me.
My cheeks warm with his kiss and the rosé I’ve been sipping on. He has his own secret stash of alcohol, such a rebel. Lanston’s affection comes so naturally, it feels like I’ve known him forever. His smile is weightless and conversation never feels forced with him. He’s so kind and attentive, a man your parents would welcome home with open arms and hope for news of an engagement.
Liam’s expression is perfectly schooled into a blank stare, but rooming with him for a few days has taught me many things about that blank look. He’s seething beneath. Thinking better of stirring the pot, I change the subject.
“So why this creepy game?” I swirl my glass of rosé and try to catch a few pomegranate seeds with my next sip.
Lanston looks at the board like it’s beyond fascinating. “The positions of the rooms are accurate to this building. It’s rumored that the murder weapons and playable characters in the game are all based on unsolved events that happened here.”
I set my glass down and lean forward with a horrified expression. “No.” This is what those girls were talking about earlier. I did notice that poster they were talking about too, with the updated rules on checking out and staying in groups when leaving the grounds.
Liam’s eyes flicker and a beautiful grin pulls at his lips. “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s true too.” He holds up a card and shows it to me. The name on the bottom says Monica. The image is of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is curly and dark and she wears a sweater up to her chin. “No one knows exactly which stories are true. They all interconnect, you see, but no one knows what ever became of them.”
My eyes couldn’t grow wider if I tried and my hands are noticeably clammy. I look at Liam expectantly. “Do you know the stories?” I pry.
Lanston laughs and throws some popcorn in his mouth. “Looks like we have a fellow horror enthusiast on our hands, Liam.”
“Well?” I look between them.
Liam nods at Lanston, who smirks, stands up, and turns off the lights. We’re plunged into darkness and my heart skitters with fear.
Lanston shuffles back to his seat in the dark and sits close so we’re touching shoulders. Liam’s lighter sparks and he lights the candle on the center of the table. Oh, old school storytelling, huh?
“Do you guys do this often or something?” I whisper to Lanston but he shushes me. He grabs my hands and I can’t help but chuckle at the spectacle they’re making of this.
This is something dramatic and dark, like out of a slasher film. I let them play it out though. It’s fun to get sucked into something so cheesy. A year ago, in my corporate life, I’d scoff and call them childish—but now, I can appreciate the raw fun of it.
Why dull life with the bleary lines that the adult world draws for us? I want to be childish. I want to run free with all the dark things in the night.
I soak it all in as Liam clears his throat. I’m entirely holding my breath for old ghost stories. His sharp features are even more defined in the dim, flickering light. The light draws shadows in a waving motion over his jaw and cheekbones. His eyes are focused solely on me, and the hunger in them stirs up desire in my chest.
“Ten years ago, Monica was a businesswoman. Simple. Quaint. In her early thirties. When she had a family tragedy and found herself mentally unwell, she fell prey to Harlow Sanctum.”
It is the same rumor I heard others talking about—the one from Liam’s articles about those people going missing a decade ago? Lanston scoots in closer to me as Liam goes on.
“She made friends here: Charlie, Bev, and Ned. She also made enemies: Brooke and Vincent. Those five were all sick. All committed to Harlow just as Monica was. But one by one, they each disappeared. In each story, the order changes; no one can say for certain who went missing first. But one fact remains the same: someone got away. Someone finished what they started at Harlow.”
I open my mouth to interrupt but Lanston shushes me again, wrapping his arms around me tightly and chuckling.
“They say that their blood is still beneath layers of paint here. That their bones are buried in the basement under the cement. But no one ever found the six of them. It’s rumored that sometimes you can see them in the recreation room at night, in the reflection of the windows, looking out into the rain and crying. Some say they’re still alive and went on with their lives. But no one, not even the staff, knows for sure.”
Liam stops and blows out the candle. Lanston gets up and turns the lights back on. They both look at me, expecting to see fear twinkling in my eyes or something, but they only find my very unsatisfied expression.
“What the hell was that?” I cross my arms.
Lanston’s smile fades. “That didn’t scare you?”
“No, it made no sense at all.”
Liam shakes his head. “That’s why they made a Clue version of it. It works for the game, doesn’t it? Full of holes and mystery. Multiple endings and whatnot.”
I scowl at him. “I guess so, but how could the staff not know what happened to them? They have files on all of us, don’t they?” I realize I’m anxiously picking at the hem of my sweater and quickly fist my hands at my sides to stop the nervous tick.
“Sure, but this is also a voluntary institute. Many people over the years just decided to up and leave. What do you think happened to Cros—” Lanston catches himself and bites back his words quickly.
Liam shoots him a warning look and his jaw flexes. “People leave constantly without warning. That’s the crux of it.”
I know I shouldn’t push, but I do anyway. Maybe it’s the wine talking but I want to know so badly. Crosby was Liam’s roommate before me. What happened to him? Did he go missing too?
“And who was Crosby?” I demand, pinning Lanston with a look.
“Gone,” Liam bites out and Lanston looks absently down at the board game. “Let’s play already.”
I need to ask Lanston alone or I’ll never get an answer.
I grab a card and Lanston does too. We go through the rules, brush up on the motions, and start playing a round.
What an odd story to spin. I wonder if they were real people. Harlow is certainly real, and the rooms seem to be as well. After hearing the girls talk about the people and seeing the posters for checkout and safety. I figure it has to be loosely real, at least. The board itself is strange, with images of insects and bones spread throughout the rooms like decorations. I’ve seen these images before…
Liam’s journal.
Why would he have notes on this game? His journal was packed with research, some of which was in Latin.
He believes too.
I need to take another look at his journal.
We finish out the game and laugh over a few more drinks before Liam and I head back to our room. It’s well past midnight and he keeps checking his phone with a grimace.
I ask him what’s wrong twice but he doesn’t answer either time, so I drop it.
I’ll ask him tomorrow.
