Page 1 of Sick Bargain

1

TO VILE HOUSE

REMIEL

Terror hasa taste and fear makes us irrational. The speed of my feet matches the pace of my rapid heart, and the horror crawling up my spine spurs me down the street even faster.

I’m trapped between two fears: the one chasing me, and the one I’m irrationally running towards. Both gag me with a bitter aftertaste, complemented by the prickly feeling at the base of my skull.

There’s a house in the middle of town. A big house, old and gothic, with an ominous air that has opposite effects on people—it repels them, or it draws them in. For years, I’ve firmly sat in the repelled category, with absolutely no desire to know if the myths and rumours about its occupants are true. I’m not the type to go looking for trouble.

But tonight, trouble has stalked me. Trouble hascaughtme.

The hairs on my nape stand up and the fear that crawled up my spine shoots back down like an electrical warning signal, making my legs pump harder. I’ve seen the movies, know the rules, and under no circumstances should I look behind me to see how far back he is. I keep my eyes forward and my steps steady for a whole block before the creepy feeling intensifies.

The cognitive distortion makes me more irrational and I look.

The street is vacant. Most of the streetlights don’t work, so the shadows are the most menacing thing, but he’s there. I know he is. I know it in the soft patter of stalking steps and the phantom whoosh of air that breathes down my neck every time I slow down. I know it in the way my palms sweat and my heart ticks quicker. I might not be able to prove it, but my body has always been good at giving me warning signs.

I’m not someone who will ignore the chills. I can’t write off the shaking as anything but fear. I won’t discount the alarm bells that have been going off in my mind since I stepped foot outside my shop. He’s following me, and I don’t know where else to lead him.

I have no other choice.

The house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac, and despite it being a dead end, I’m taking the risk. I’m luring him there in the hopes the rumours are true. Because the man chasing me has done enough damage, and I’m finally at my breaking point. He needs to go, the man who haunts me. I need to take the power away from him, even if it also takesmypower away fromme.

Vile House started as a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients, but over the years, it became a psychiatric facility. The need to expand into a bigger hospital turned Vile House into only a small portion of it, and now the main building, a fully functioning asylum, sits on the edge of town. Back then, it was called VILE for a different reason.Virtuous Innovations for Living Exceptionally. It was a place that healed as much as it hindered, conducted non-sanctioned experiments, and created an even darker history. Now, if the rumours can be believed, VILE stands for something much different. I don’t know if the acronym is true, and I’ve never wanted to, but tonight, I’m putting my faith in the whispered meaning.

Virtue In Lives Exchanged.

They’re a society that has lived and breathed in Moros since the beginning of time, weaved into Moros’ history just like the asylum. Respected as much as they are feared. Well-known while remaining a mystery.

Something metal clanks off a lamp post behind me. Too close behind me. I pick up my pace and hold back a whimper, refusing to let fear fail me again. Up ahead, the blackened yard of Vile House waits for me, luring me like it never has before. Not a single light is on inside, and the porch is just as dark as the street. It always looks shadowy, but that doesn’t mean it’s unoccupied. It means the occupants are comfortable in the dark, slinking around in the dead of night, keeping the locals in check and remaining mostly hidden under the cover of their unknown identity.

“Remi.”

Fucking fuck. I start to run faster, fleeing from the sound of my name on the wind and the imagined breath against my nape. I sprint past the neighbours’ darkened houses, my eyes on Vile House. I could be making the biggest mistake of my life, but I rapidly weighed the pros and cons on my sprint here, deciding that if I don’t take the risk, I’ll be dead by morning. Dying is the one thing I refuse. Not yet. I have something to do first. And if the man at my back catches me tonight, he’ll force me to succumb to my family curse.

Our town isn’t named after the personification of impending doom for nothing. Moros, a secluded town with a daunting, depraved kind of history, is a tourist trap for sinister minds and occult fanatics, and I’ve lived here my whole life without taking its bait. Tonight, I’m the tourist lured to the honey trap in the dead centre of town.

“Remiel Sauder,” the wind carries my name in his voice, skirting down my back and quickening my last steps.

The iron gate is open, and I run through it with no resistance. I don’t have time to fear the covered windows, the slipping shutters, the gargoyles and the statues that sit in the yard like watchdogs. I don’t even fear the eyes I feel drawing me in, the promise of protection in its worst form. No, I run through it all and bang my fist on the door, sparing a single glance behind me.

Emptiness.But I know.I know he’s there. And he’s not alone tonight. I sense the second person, nostalgic and full of betrayal.

“Vile House!” I shout, banging on the dark wooden door. “Help me! I have a bargain!” Because they permit no one entry without a bargain. “I want to exchange a life!”

I bang both fists on the door, trying not to cry at the sound creeping up the porch steps behind me. Not footsteps, but something smoother, slinkier. Someone dangerous and unhinged. Someone comfortable in the night. I recognize the movements because they’ve been pursuing me for years.

“Vile House! Please!” I bang harder.

The one trailing me is right behind me, steps away from snatching me. From turning me into another missing person statistic in Moros. From snuffing out the life I’ve barely lived. He won’t kill me, but he won’t stop until I kill myself. It’s a sick game we play, and I’m done being a chess piece.

Moros is a town run by cults, societies, and gangs, but the individual after me is more dangerous than a cult, and he is the wicked reason my lifespan is dwindling by the month.

My trip to madness has already begun, and holding onto my sanity gets harder by the minute.

“Please! I have a bargain!” I bang again, fear creeping into my voice.

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