I pull my long light blonde hair into a ponytail, re-apply mascara, and apply my favorite tinted chapstick. I pull on a green slightly cropped v-neck that matches my eyes, and pair it with black high-waisted shorts and black tights. I throw on my black combat boots.
As I tie them, my phone chimes. I finish tying the laces before I pick it up.
+1 (504)-216-0000
Is this Lilith?
I furrow my brows as I answer "Yes," and ask who it is. My phone quickly chimes.
+1 (504)-216-0000
It's Phoenix, I made sure to get your number by Vivian
I don't feel myself smile as I answer. I ask him how he was able to get to Vivian, as neither of them exchanged numbers. I stay on the conversation, and he begins to type.
Phoenix: I have my ways, you almost here?
Me: Yes
Phoenix: I'm heading towards the gate, I'll wait for you
I smile as I stifle an answer.
Me: Be there soon
6:26
I see Phoenix leaning on the gate with one earbud in, and his eyes are closed. I walk up quietly to him, and tap his shoulder abruptly once I reach in an attempt to startle him. He doesn't jump, and he opens his eyes nonchalantly and takes his earbud out; pausing the music.
"How did that not scare you?"
"I'm not scared easily, Lillian."
I roll my eyes, "Lilith."
"I know."
He begins to walk past me, away from the stadiums.
"Where are you going?" I call out behind him.
"Come on," he calls out as he turns around, walking backwards to face me.
I shrug and follow him. As we hit the sidewalk, away from the chatter and the vast array of loud and quiet noises, my phone starts to ring.
I take it out of my pocket and pick it up to see Vivian calling me.
"What's up?" I say.
"Where are you and Phoenix?"
"I'm not sure where we're going, but we'll be back."
"Where are you two even headed?"
"Away from the field. We'll be back though, we're just on the sidewalk."
"Well, text me when you do, and stay safe, it's getting dark. Tell Phoenix not to be a little bitch if the crackheads come out."
I chuckle, "Okay, Viv. I'll see you later."
I hang up the phone and push it into my back pocket. I hadn't realized where we were going as I was talking to Vivian, and we're walking down a neighborhood—a poorly lit neighborhood.
"Where are we?"
"Wisteria Drive, across from the school."
"Okay, and why?"
"You'll see."
I sigh and slightly catch up, "I thought we were watching the game."
He chuckles, "That's just boring."
"Hey," I say quickly, and slightly pull on his shoulder. He stops walking and turns around to face me.
"What?" He slaps his sides.
"What's your game?"
"My game?"
"Yes. We were supposed to be going to a boring football game, not walking down a dark neighborhood waiting to be kidnapped."
He laughs, "Cute."
He shakes his head and turns around to start walking, "Don't worry, Lilith. We're not getting kidnapped, and we'll go back to the game—after."
"After? After what?"
He gestures his head forward, and we walk down the road until we hit a dead end. At the end, is a mansion you'd see in a vampire film, presumably abandoned. It was at least 4 stories, with a balcony on each story, and a large porch area. The house was for sure of Victorian style architecture, and was overly creepy.
"Is this the part where you tell me you're a 200-year-old vampire who's brought me here to drain me of all of my blood?"
He laughs, "You've never heard of this place?"
"Uh, no?" I chuckle.
"Everyone knows the house on Wisteria Drive."
"Not I. Why are we here?"
He raises his eyebrows with a slight smirk, "We're going in."
I furrow my brows, and he runs his hand through his silky black hair out of his face with a nod.
"Fuck. No." I enunciate my words with a crystal-clear tone.
He shrugs, and darts forward towards me. In a quick motion, he grabs my hand and leads me up the driveway into the gothic-style historical mansion, cloaked in vines and spider webs. Before I can react, I'm standing ahead of a dark emerald green door, and Phoenix has already released my hand.
"Are you mad?!"
"It's just a house, Lils."
He grabs what looks like a piercing needle, and wriggles it inside a keyhole until the sound of an unlocking click is heard. He pushes the door thrice before it budges. The door hits the wall, bringing him with it. He winces in pain, and I come up behind him.
"What's going—" I widen my eyes and he turns around to face me, and my eyes are locked with the needle pierced through his knuckle. He winces as he forces it out, and blood trickles down his hand.
"Geez, how did you do that?"
I take the needle and throw it into the bush beside me.
"Might as well go in, find some cloth," I say, and he walks in with me behind him.
I attempt to close the door behind me, and push it until it finally comes in contact with the door frame, and I turn around to face him.
The house looks as if it was left this way—cabinets are open, utensils are spread out, there's bowls and plates on a coffee table, the cabinets in the TV stand are open, and DVDs are stacked on top in front of it, as if someone was sifting through to find the perfect film choice. But it also looked untouched for years. The house is clouded in dust and cobwebs, somehow it kept its posh overlook—and if cleaned and fixed, would be a house I'd dream of.
There were two grand staircases leading to the second story, which appeared just as big, and if not bigger than the first. The next three stories were connected by a large spiral staircase built on white marble and polished onyx wood. Each story bigger than the next, and connected to large, brick and wood balconies with just enough glass windows to let the moonlight in.
It was certainly a mix of posh, dusty, old, glamorous, and creepy. But if I was anything in this moment, I was confused. Why the hell am I here?
We make our way past the grand double staircases on each of our sides, to the kitchen behind the right staircase. And it looked just as the rest of the house: utensils spread out, dishes sitting dusty in a dry rack, cabinets open and filled with now probably expired food, and paper towels—to our luck, even the dining table was messily made. There was a foul smell in the direction of the refrigerator—indicating that the owner had bolted without the packing of a single thing—the owner had left everything in the fridge.
"So, this person just—bolted?"
He nods, and wraps a paper towel he had ripped off of the small metal stand.
"Sylvester Wisteria, this road was originally Cloak Drive, until this dude fled." He points around as he wraps his knuckle.
"Where?" I walk up to him as he compresses the towel to his knuckle, and he looks up to me with his ice blue eyes and sighs.
He soon shrugs, "Who fucking knows. But, they did find some weird shit in here, like witchcraft and bones, like a lot of them—"
"Bones? Human bones?"
"Human, reptiles, cats, specifically black cats. He was into some weird shit, I just don't remember what. But this place hasn't been touched since, and even then, they kept it all here. So who knows, maybe—"
Phoenix is interrupted at a loud click at the entrance—the sound of the door locking. We look over in unison, and my heart beats in my chest. We look at each other, and I look closely at the slight fear in his eyes. He's genuinely confused, and he tenses. Whatever he had planned, he hadn't anticipated this sequence of events.