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A smirk pulled at my lips. That bag cost more than most people’s rent. Her parents gave it to her for graduation. “All right. Deal. I go in alone and get the door open. Then I get dibs at the party and the Balenciaga bag.”
“Both?” Maureen pouted.
I nodded. “And if I’m not out in fifteen minutes, you better come and get me, bitch. Psychos could be squatting in there.”
A gust of wind rushed past us, blowing one of the shutters hard against the house. We both lurched back. Goosebumps prickled my arms. We should have brought coats, but no, we just had to be more concerned about how hot we looked.
An eerie sensation pulled at me. “I’m going to get you back good for this one, Maur,” I called back to her as I moved toward the decaying porch. The wind picked up again, drowning out her response. All I could hear was the faint sound of giggling.
The floorboards creaked under my pointy high-heels. I was half-expecting to drive a hole straight through one of them. “I swear to god if I get my shoe caught in one of these things…” I cursed under my breath.
The house was empty, devoid of any furnishings or decorations. A little burst of adrenaline tingled through my veins. Ever since I was a kid, I’d been obsessed with horror movies and the occult. Walking around this spooky old house was so fucking dangerous, it almost turned me on.
I tested the railing as I started up the staircase, jiggling it to make sure it would hold. Using caution, I crept up the stairs, my heart pounding the closer I got to the top. Thanks to the busted-out windows, it was freezing inside. The wind howled through the house without anything to hinder it. It roamed wild and free. As if it lived here.
There were all sorts of sounds that would make a sane person jump. Make them run out as fast as they could. Aside from the shutters banging against the house, there was the unsettling sound of rodents scratching the wood as they scurried up and down the walls. They never bothered me much, but Maureen, on the other hand, would have shrieked and leaped onto my back.
She never had the stomach for creepy things. Not like me. While I pretended to be annoyed or bored with her dares, I secretly relished them. The thrill of getting caught doing something dangerous was worth every second. I dreamed of things that would make grown men keel over. Dark and depraved things. Regular stuff bored me. I could only fuck missionary so many times before I’d die of boredom. Only so many of the same monotonous blow jobs I could give without wanting to scratch my own eyes out. I didn’t want a normal guy. I wanted a monster. A deviant. Someone who could make me feel fucking alive for once.
But my type only existed in books and in my dreams. Hence why I was traipsing through a creepy condemned house without even a can of mace. For the thrill. The rush. It was the closest I could get to whatever it was I was looking for. That thing that I just couldn’t grasp or name. Fuck, I wish I could bottle this feeling.
I paused at the top of the stairs and looked back over my shoulder. These abandoned houses tended to harbor less than savory characters. Despite my adrenaline addiction, having a run in with a crack-head or a serial killer was not what I had in mind.
Confident that no one was stalking me, I continued down the hall. The first two rooms I passed were empty just like the rest of the house. The doors torn off their hinges. Empty paper cups rolled around the floor, most likely remnants from that party a few weeks back. The doorframes were charred yet still looked sturdy enough to withstand a hurricane. That was the thing about these old houses—good bones.
The hall dead-ended with one last room. The only room that had a door still attached to it. I stood in front of it, and a chill snaked down my back. It was as if the temperature dropped another ten degrees in this spot. I’ve heard some people say that ghosts can make a room colder. The adrenaline junkie in me got off on that, but my inner skeptic was convinced it was just a wind tunnel, pulling the chill farther down.
I gasped as I wrapped my hand around the doorknob. It was ice cold. I tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Come on,” I groaned.
I jiggled it some more and leaned against the door but still nothing. I pulled out one of my hair pins and stuck it in the keyhole like they do in the movies, but I had no fucking clue what I was doing. How the fuck is there still a locked door in an abandoned house?
This is why that stupid superstition got started to begin with.
Fuck it.
I backed up a few steps and charged forward, slamming my body into the door. “Fuck,” I cried out as I bounced off it. That was going to leave a fucking bruise. I really needed to stop thinking I was some kind of cat burglar.
I rubbed my shoulder, already feeling a lump forming. This was pissing me off. It wasn’t about the Balenciaga bag or first dibs on some vapid frat guy. No. I wanted that rush. Needed it. And I was just a tad bit curious to know if the legend was true. What if there really was three spirits in that room, ready to pounce on whoever let them out?
Waiting to do dark and dirty things. A tingling began between my thighs. Only someone as fucked up as me would get aroused by that.
I grabbed the doorknob again and jiggled it with all my might. “What the fuck?” I hissed. “Fucking open already.” I slammed my hands on the door and sighed in defeat.
As I pulled out my phone to text Maureen that it wasn’t happening, I started to turn when I felt a warm breath blow against the back of my neck. I whipped around, my heart racing, only to find no one there.
Fuck.
It felt like a man’s breath. Footsteps thudded behind me. I spun around again just as a force rammed into me, knocking me backward. I crashed into the door like a wrecking ball. The wood splintered and gave way as I barreled through it.
“Oh, shit,” I yelled.
I tumbled face forward and smacked my palms against the floorboards as I broke my own fall.
Okay, this was a bit more than adrenaline. Someone was fucking with me. I scrambled to my feet and glanced around only to find myself completely alone. There was no fucking way.
“Maureen?” I called out. “You better not be fucking with me, bitch.”
