Page 39 of Absentia Mori

What the actual fuck? I’m going to stab them with these fucking lollipops the next time I see them. I shove my hands back into my pockets and gasp when I find them empty except for something cold and metal.

Those sneaky little bitches.

But I can’t stop the grin from taking over my face as I gaze upon the ornate skeleton key in my hand. “Thank you,” I whisper.

I turn the key, and as it unlocks the door, I brace myself. It could be another storage room or a torture chamber. Anything is possible inside this asylum.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s just another sleeping room. It’s dark, but I can see there’s a bed and a desk similar to the one in my room and a small bathroom with a toilet and shower off to the left. The bed is neatly made with no creases or indents, like it hasn’t been slept on for years. The antique desk gathers dust around a small stack of parchment paper and a set of dried paints.Interesting.

I flip on the light switch and shudder.What in the fuck is that?

Above the bed hangs a massive painting. I creep forward, chills racing down my arms, to get a better look. A pit of dread stirs in my belly. The image is mostly swirls of black and red. There’s a figure in the center. He has a forked tongue and claws. He stares out as if he’s looking directly at me.

It’s horrific, but I can’t look away. This thing… whatever he is… looks like a nightmare brought to life. I lean in even closer to read the signature that’s scribbled in the corner. I brush my fingers over it, removing some of the dust.

Mia Harker.

Well, that’s fucking weird. I don’t know much about the Harkers other than there aren’t very many of them left. Maybe this is why. This must’ve been her room. Fuck. She’s probably haunting the place too. And now I’m in her space, fucking with her shit.

The door creaks behind me just as a cold draft wafts in. Fuck. Yup, time to go. I turn around and stop dead in my tracks.

Another fucking ghost. Fuck, this is probably her, pissed off that I’ve invaded her space.

“She’s the only one who’s ever gotten out of here alive.”

My adrenaline is racing, but my curiosity overrules it. “You mean… Mia Harker?” I point to the painting.

The ghost before me is tall and lanky, a blonde woman with green eyes and ruby-red lips. She looks about my age. Or at least she was when she died. “Mia was a sweet girl. But plagued by terrible nightmares.”

We both gaze at the artwork, fixating on it. If she was creating shit like that it’s no wonder the energy in this room is disturbing. “How did she get out?”

“She was here for a few years. Until one day, an uncle she’d never met showed up. He paid his weight in poison for her release… I liked her. I’m happy she didn’t die in here like the rest of us.”

Poison is a form of currency in here.Good to know.

“How long ago did she leave?” I doubt she even remembers.

The woman smiles in remembrance. “Last winter solstice I think. Her grandmother died and left everything to her.”

Mia Harker was just here? That can’t be right. This room looks like it’s been abandoned for years. “I don’t understand…”

“Mia was here but not here. She lived in her nightmares. It’s hard to explain.”

Something else is gnawing at me.

He paid his weight in poison…

Mia Harker… Harker.

Oh, fuck.

Dorian Harker must be her uncle.Professor Harker.

He was in debt to Pisces Thorn. All this time, we thought he was a poison addict. Atlas tormented him,blackmailed him, for years.

Fuck, I feel sick.

Professor Harker did it all for her. For Mia.

---