Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are our own fears.

-Rudyard Kipling

The room is so bright I snap my eyes shut immediately. After a few seconds, when I have adjusted to it, I blink and open them.

Mirrors. All around us. From the ceiling to the walls.

Wherever I look, there are mirrors. On one mirror I catch my reflection, our reflection.

Oliver is being more silent than a grave, and I know why.

In the mirror, I see one of his arms draped around my shoulder, other around my waist, lifting me off the ground. My black satin dress has hiked up a little. One of my hands is resting on Oliver’s chest as he is leaning against the door he opened. We are wrapped together.

I look at Oliver in the mirror. He looks at me. He looks a little reddish. So do I.

I feel hot. All over. Oliver suddenly lets me go like a bomb.

I look everywhere but at that mirror again. It’s the only plain mirror. There is a kaleidoscope of mirrors around us. I pass a mirror which makes me look fat and short. Bad mirror. I pass another mirror that makes me look tall and lanky. I try to figure out which way to go. One of the mirrors must be the exit door. I look back, and I can’t even tell which mirror was the door we came through.

Oliver is looking around frantically. He pushes a mirror. It doesn’t budge.

I look around myself as well. I push another mirror. Same result.

I walk around aimlessly and try to make the mirrors move. It’s like a maze.

“I think this-” I hear Oliver’s voice from somewhere as the mirror in front of me suddenly snaps open. I didn’t expect that. So I fall straight forward, on the floor.

The door shuts automatically behind me.

“Gwen-” I hear Oliver’s word fade away.

I try to open the door. It has no knob or handle on this side. I slap on the frame. It doesn’t make much sound. I give up.

That was bad.

I turn around and assess my situation. All around me are bones and skeletons. I lean against the way I came. Well shit, this is scaring me.

I hear a sound in one corner and I break into a run. The room is pretty big and I frantically look for a door. The sound behind me gets loud. It’s like a bone scratching on the floor. I run forward, and my face hits a cloth. It’s a black cloth. I get tangled up. There isn’t any door here.

When I finally untangle myself, I lift the cloth up and I am in another room. The sound behind me seems to get closer so I run again. This new room is lit in green light. I hear human sounds, and I don’t even wait to look at my surroundings. I find the door. It doesn’t even budge.

Crap. Crap.

The door opens and I fall face first again.

Someone makes a woof sound. I’m over someone’s body. It’s a guy.

“Oliver?” I say as I support myself on one of my elbows, my other hand on his stomach.

Abs.

“You’re not Oliver,” I state.

The guy underneath me laughs. “You bet I’m not.”

The voice sounds disgustingly familiar. “Nice meeting you again, Gwen Bradbury.”

Owen disgusts me.

I stand up so quickly, like Owen is fire and he is burning my flesh off. Owen takes his time.

“Well, well, well,” Owen says. “Fancy seeing you here, Gwen.”

I see his smirk because of the dim lighting of the room. I am glad it’s not dark.

I remember the conversation I had with Oliver earlier. My blood boils over. I have never hated anyone more than I hate Owen now.

What Oliver went through and how Owen was not there for him doesn’t make me think better of Owen. I knew something about him never sat well with me.

“Why are you here?” I ask. Honestly, he was the last person I wanted to meet here.

“Doing what you’re doing?” Owen says with a shrug. “ Having fun?”

I look around. I can’t see anyone else around us. So it’s just me and him in this particular room.

“So you came here alone?” I ask him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“No,” Owen smirks. “But I’m alone now.”

Then he winks. I roll my eyes.

“Oh please.” I look around us. It’s like nothing is in this room. They thought they should give the visitors a break from everything, just let them sit here and get some rest.

“What’s with this attitude?” Owen asks, leaning against the door.

“What attitude?” I ask.

“I get the feeling that you don’t really like me,” Owen says, almost smiling.

“You bet I don’t. At least you have a brain to realize that. Thought you don’t have one,” I reply and lean against the wall.

“Why? Have I hurt you in any way? Even if I did, it was not intentional and I’m sorry.” Owen stands up straight.

“Hold up, hold up,” I say. “Now you are being nice.”

“You have a thing against nice people?” he asks, like he is surprised.

I look away and don’t say anything.

“Oh, now I see why you like Oliver, not me,” Owen says with a smug smile.

“I mean, if you know I don’t like you why can’t you just stop with the disgusting flirting?” I shudder saying it.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Owen says.

“You invited me to your room,” I say.

“I was just being nice. I asked you to hangout, can’t I do that?” Owen says, like he actually doesn’t see any problem.

“Yeah, right. You are just being you,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Hm, the problem is the idea of me,” Owen says, almost smiling.

“It might be,” I say. “Can we stop talking and resume with this? I wasn’t actually planning to do it this way.”

I wonder what Oliver and I would have done if we were here alone. I sigh.

“Sure,” Owen says. “Let’s go forward and see what awaits us. But I think we are at the end,” Owen says, looking at the room, which has nothing in it.

Then I hear someone screaming. I look at Owen, and he looks at me. From the other end of the room, a man—not a man, a psycho—walks in with a giant machine saw like he is gonna cut us off with it.

I hear a girly scream come out of me.

Wait a second, that wasn’t me. That was… I look at Owen, and yes, that was him.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s get out of here!” Owen grabs my hand and drags me out of the room.

And like a surprise, or just because God showed us mercy, we are out of the haunted house.

It’s a clearing.

“Whoa, it’s over?” I ask.

“No. No actually, I remember this part. There should be some-”

I see the guy as soon Owen does, coming at us with a giant axe. Owen screams again, and he picks me off the ground and throws me inside.

I scream too, not because of those men, but because Owen’s girly screams are scaring me.

“Why are you screaming?!” I say.

“Well, why are you screaming?!” Owen replies.

“Because you are screaming!!” I shout back. “Stop screaming like a girl!”

“But you’re supposed to scream! We are in a haunted house!” Owen replies.

Can anyone please tell him that he is a big, fat idiot?

I roll my eyes and turn around. The hallway is really dark.

“I see a door,” I say.

“What are we waiting for? Get in, get in,” Owen says.

I huff and squeeze the knob. The door opens to a nursery.

Long black hair. That's what I first see, long long black hair. So long that it’s laid around the whole floor.

Owen screams.

“Will you fu-” I start.

“Shhhhhhh,” someone else says. The blood in my body stops flowing. I turn around slowly.

She just talked. She just-

“Shh, be silent. You don’t want to wake up the baby,” she says.

I can’t see her face. It’s hidden behind her long black hair. She has a baby in her arms, and she is rocking it.

“Wow, nice hair,” Owen says in a low voice. I turn back and touch my hair.

“Not yours. Hers,” Owen specifies. I glare at him.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Owen asks again. He looks like he is possessed. “Do you think she would mind if I ask her out?"

“Is that what you think whenever you meet a new girl?” I ask.

“Pretty much, yes,” Owen replies.

I am pretty speechless, so I don’t even say anything.

“I’m going to ask her out,” Owen says again.

“Shh. You are going to wake up the baby,” the girl warns, tilting her face up at us.

I can’t really see her face underneath her long black hair. And I don’t really want to. She is still rocking the baby.

“Owen, let’s get out of here,” I whisper and grab Owen’s arm, dragging him with me. I try to get towards the other end of the room.

But let me tell you something. Owen Carlson is heavy. And I can’t move him if he doesn’t want to.

Owen looks at the girl and says,“Hey, I was thinking-”

The girl puts her index finger on her lips and says, “Shh.”

“Owen!” I punch him in his arm.

“So, how old is the baby?” Owen asks. He is planning to sit down on the floor.

God, are we ever gonna get out of this haunted house?

“I said, shh. You’ll wake up the baby!” the girl hisses.

“Well, if you don’t give me your number, I totally will,” Owen says with a smile.

This guy.

“I mean, I think you’re really pretty. I really like your long hair.” Owen reasons.

“The hair is fake,” I hear the girl say. I look at her.

“See? You can talk. Now wouldn’t it be nice if we grab a bite sometimes?” Owen says again, giving her what he would call a ‘charming’ smile.

“Shh, you’ll-”

“No, I won’t,” Owen promises.

“Fine!” The girl says. “I work at Daisy’s in the daytime,” she almost whispers from behind her hair.

“There you go,” Owen smirks. Then he looks at me. “Now we can go.”

“Shh. You’ll wake up the baby,” The girl says again.

“Yeah right. Then the baby will know it has a father too,” I roll my eyes.

Owen pushes me out of the room before the girl can say anything else.

“I can’t believe I have a date!” Owen almost punches in the air. “Now Chase owes me 20.”

“What?” I blink.

“Yeah, he said if I can get the girl with the baby to go on a date with me, I’ll get a 20,” Owen says, like it’s no big deal.

I stare at him.

I try to imagine Oliver asking someone out to win a bet. I can’t.

“You are horrible and disgusting and I don’t even want to look at you,” I say.

“Fine, then turn around and look at the room we have in front of us,” Owen says and shrugs.

I put more distance between him and me as I turn around.

In front of me is a bridge, a little bit higher over the ground. There is no other way to get to the end of the room other than crossing the bridge. The bridge is narrow so only one person can cross at a time.

The room is dark and there are plants all around the bridge. It smells like something died here.

I almost take a step back.

“Let’s go!” Owen says.

“Why don’t you go first?” I say, stepping aside.

“Sure, sure,” Owen says, mocking me. I let him because only God knows what’s in here.

Owen walks forward and gets on the bridge. I follow him. I hear the leaves move. I don’t turn around.

Owen takes another step forward. From somewhere, a wolf howls.

I stumble forward and hit Owen. He turns around.

“Scared?” Owen asks.

From the side of the bridge, something that looks like an animal rises up. My eyes go wide, and I lose my voice.

“What?” Owen says.

I try to make a sound.

The animal does. Owen turns around slowly. The animal thing is staring right at him. Him and the animal are nose to nose. Owen gulps as his brain processes the situation. Not long after, he screams.

Owen grabs my hand and runs. The bridge moves beneath our feet. It starts to go down. Owen screams louder.

I’m ashamed to say that so do I. It feels like the bridge is going to drop us, and I can’t see what’s underneath the bridge. I don’t want to.

The bridge goes down like a seesaw and before I know, Owen falls and I do too, over him on the other end.

We huff and puff. A moment later, Owen says, “That was fun. Right?”

I stand up without a word and open the door to get out. Owen follows me.

What I see next is like my horrible nightmare come true.

It’s a morgue.

I close my eyes and cover my nose. Owen doesn’t make a sound. Looks like he’s not very excited about this room.

I slowly take a step forward. There are stretchers all around, with bodies covered in bloody white sheets. The room is lit by only a dim white light hanging from the middle of the ceiling, almost like the spotlight of a stage. In the middle of the room is a chair. A little girl is sitting on the chair, blood dripping from the side of her face. She looks directly at us.

“Oh, God,” I whisper.

Owen squeezes my hand.

The girl lets out a sob.

I shudder. We can’t go to the other end of the room without passing her.

“Help me,” the girl says to us.

“Owen, what are we gonna do!” I say, looking at him.

“This wasn’t here before,” Owen says like he’s lost.

This time the girl says, “Help me Owen!”

Owen takes a step back. So do I.

This way, we are never getting out of here.

The girl touches her face then looks at her bloody hands. “Owen, help me, please!”

“I-” Owen says. He looks like he is in pain.

“This is just a haunted house,” I remind myself. I walk forward and Owen does too.

“How are we gonna help her?” Owen says.

“We’re not,” I get closer to the girl. She leans out to reach me.

“Help me!” She says. When I’m almost there, the stretchers start moving.

I make the mistake of looking back.

The bodies on the stretchers all around are sitting up. They start removing their sheets.

The girl cries loudly, “Owen!”

Owen grabs my shoulder. “Get me out of here.”

I pull him forward with me. We get closer to the chair. I hear sounds of footsteps behind us. I guess the dead bodies have awakened.

I hurry up and drag Owen with me and pass by the chair. The girl gives out a cry. She almost grabs Owen’s shirt.

“Help me, Owen, please!”

Owen yelps. The bodies are getting closer to us, so I break into a run. I get to the door and open it. When I turn around, Owen is not with me.

The bodies that came out from under the sheet, they have surrounded the little girl. She is sobbing horribly. She looks at Owen as a plea.

“I have to help her,” Owen says.

“We are in a haunted house!” I remind him. I grab his arm and pull him with me.

“But-”

“There are no buts!” I pull him.

I slam the door as we get out. I pant, leaning against it. When I look up, everything is moving. The whole room is moving. I feel like I’m going to fall down.

“I wanted to help her,” Owen says from somewhere.

“Where the hell are you?” I say. I feel nauseous.

Owen grabs my hand. “Here.”

I glance at the room properly. The lights are blinking, giving the room a space-type of feeling. At the same time, it looks like some sort of tunnel. The only thing that’s not moving in this room is the black bridge in the middle, which also has no railing. It looks like it’s just there in the middle of nowhere, floating in the air.

“Come on,” Owen says and steps on the bridge.

“I’m going to fall,” I say.

“No, you’re not,” Owen says, like he is bored. He drags me forward with him. I take my steps cautiously and slowly. The tunnel seems to go on and on, and then I’m stepping on something solid.

It’s dark everywhere. Pitch black.

I hear a door crack and the light blinds me. I am being dragged forward like I’m blind. Owen is leading me.

“And it’s over,” Owen says.

I blink quite a few times as I adjust my eyes in the lights. It’s the parking lot. I can see the cars and I also see Woody standing there around the cars with some other people.

“Where were you?” I hear the familiar voice and look aside.

It’s Oliver.

Oliver looks at me and steps forward. “I was looking for you everywhere-”

He stops as he sees the person beside me. Then he looks down. At my hand.

So do I. I see my own hand clasped in Owen’s.

*****