The Liverly

Prologue

It's considered a great honor to be invited to explore the Liverly Haunted House. Only the rich are allowed inside because of the asinine ticket price, and we are told to never speak of what we see to anyone. Why? It makes it sound like something will happen, but everyone knows that the whole "haunted" idea is a farce and that the owners only want to make money. Still, rich families flock to the Liverly's doors, some coerced by friends, others going for the fun of it. Word gets around about each trip inside, and no one's ever seen a ghost or ghoul, but still people go for the prestige.

That's why I'm here in my outrageously large pea coat, roasting alive and wishing I could take it off and feel the chill October breeze. Well, technically my parents forced me to come, but here I am, holding my little sister's hand as Mom is handed instructions and the Liverly employees hand all of us equipment (a backpack with a sleeping bag, a blanket, enough granola bars to last me a month, three large canteens of water in case I can't find one of the fifty water fountains inside the building, and a flashlight with extra batteries) before splitting us off into our groups. There are only two groups this time, each around ten people. That's a really small number for the Liverly, but with school exams coming up or going on, no one (except for the foolhardy or forced) has time to spare. My sister and I don't have to worry about exams because our tutors plan everything around my parents' schedules.

The trip through the house takes about two days. Each group is given several maps and placed in some random location of the house, told to find their way out. It's agonizingly easy to get out of the building even without the maps. Any door that will lead you in the direction of the exit is left unlocked while all the other doors are sealed shut. People have tried, but no one's been able to open one of the locked doors before.

Gracie is worked up but still half-asleep. She's been awake for the last four hours, whereas she would normally be waking up now at eight. I love my parents, but I've outgrown the haunted house thing, and Gracie is too young to understand what's going on. This is a huge waste of time, but you can't convince my mom to change her mind once it's made. I guess that's where my stubbornness came from.

So off we go in our little groups into the "haunted" house. Gracie clings to my arm, unwilling to let go. We're in the same group with five teenagers and one of the guys' dad. The teenagers are older than me by five years, yet they're acting Gracie's age. They keep spooking and screaming when one of them shouts "boo" and runs off snickering loudly. Gracie's staring at them wide-eyed while Mom and Dad shrug, shoulder their bags, and follow the Liverly employee in her blinding neon green shirt.

The guide weaves us through the house and shoves us all into a room, wishing us luck and then shutting and locking the door as she leaves, looking anything but excited. This is our starting point, some random room on the second floor. From here, we must make it down to the first floor and out into the garden (aka "the end"). Think of this whole thing as a maze puzzle made for a three-year-old in one of those coloring books. There's literally no way you can get lost and never find your way out. The only thing this place is missing is arrow-shaped, neon signs.

Mom smiles, somehow looking beautiful even without any makeup and in a coat as puffy as mine. "Isn't this exciting?" she asks, voice high-pitched and chipper.

Dad and I exchange a look and a sigh while Gracie hops along behind the teens. I catch Mom's eyes and she frowns at me. She wants me to have a good time, but she can't force me to want to be here. I'd prefer to be at home, eating pizza and drawing horses and anime characters.

We walk in silence until one of the teen boys gets the bright idea to randomly scream, scaring everyone in the group except me and my parents. After that, no one shuts up; even Gracie is a chatterbox. I just nod and smile, acting like I'm listening. I'm counting down the minutes until we're out of here and back home. We find bathrooms and stop for a break. I keep an eye on Gracie, even though Mom and Dad are here, as she plays tag with some of the teens in line.