HAUNTER

2.1

*A/N* YAAAAY Fan-art of the group! It's amazing ^-^ (Actually, I drew it so naturally I would think that but whatever) Anyways, yeah, you'll meet them soon. I think they're pretty interesting people. Too bad they made a wrong choice. T-T

Okay so onto the story. . . 

A group of teenagers enter the Asylum just a few days later.

They are alight with a kind of excited naiveté, an innocent simplicity that fills their expressions with nervousness and elation.

They know that the building is condemned, and that only adds to their thrill. They know they aren't supposed to be here.

And yet they stand in the entryway anyways, in a clustered, noisy group of breathing and whispers. I am always curious of who dares to invade my home, so I don't do anything other than watch them. Yet.

There are two boys and two girls, each carrying their own flashlights, which sweep the room in slow arcs. They also have backpacks strapped to their backs, as if they intend to stay a long time.

Time is meaningless. Soon, each of these people will know that.

"Did you see the laptop outside?" A girl with straight, brown hair asks. She has sharp eyes and a giddy voice. "Who would just leave it there?"

One of the boys turns his head to face her. "Maybe they forgot it. You know, when the ghost killed them."

The girl lets out a mock gasp. "Stop it, Travis, you're scaring me!"

They both smile, but are soon aweing over the deteriorating walls, stepping over chunks of it to move further into the room.

They seem to be divided into pairs, each a boy and a girl. The first consists of the boy named Travis, who has a short buzz-cut on either side of his head, leaving a patch of blond hair along the very top, and wearing all black, including a jacket.

The girl next to him, the one who spoke about the laptop, dons simple black leggings and a grey sweater around her slim figure. Her brown hair falls along her lower back, her pale face lightly painted with makeup. She moves closer to Travis and places her hand in his.

The other pair silently drops behind the first. The boy glances at everything with a sort of distracted atmosphere. His black hair is short but thick, straight and hanging just below his ears. He is wearing a white shirt with blue jeans.

The other girl stands apart from him, a book in one hand. She has a frown on her face, so at odds with the mood of the rest of the group. Her hair is cornrowed, gathered together in a ponytail away from her African-American features and she wears a lavender skirt with a pink top.

"And to think," she says, coming up beyond Travis and the girl, "that I could be at home, playing video games, instead of indulging in your twisted idea of fun."

"Oh shut it, Lonnie," Travis says. "You know this is interesting. What could be cooler than spending the night in an old asylum?"

"I could name so many things it would take up all the time we have here. Would you like me to make you a list, Travis? Maybe that way it'd be easier to understand. What I fail to comprehend is what the heck we're doing here."

"Don't try to pseudo-analyze this or whatever it is you do," Travis warns. "This," he gestures at the scenery, arms spread above his head, "is a date."

"This," Lonnie mocks, waving her arms at him, "is not a date. This is a psychological ploy between you and Marissa as what you call 'a date' when, pragmatically, it's nothing but a sloppy tactic to further your standing with your girlfriend whilst dragging me and Max into your contorted fantasies of entertainment."

Travis crinkles his nose at her then turns to face his girlfriend, Marissa, who is standing so close to him their shoulders touch. "See what I mean, Mare-bear? I got nothing of that. It all just flew over my head. Like, whoosh." He tosses one arm in the air above his head as emphasis.

Then he glances at Lonnie. "This is why I shouldn't have invited you. I never understand what you're saying."

Lonnie rolls her eyes but does nothing to counter his statement.

"Dude," the other boy, Max, chimes in. "If this is a date, why bring us along?"

"I just explained this," Lonnie mutters under her breath, so quiet no one but me hears.

"Because," Travis answers, "we're like, a team. And plus, they say this place is haunted. A team of movie producers ran outta' here last week because they heard some noises or something. I figured, let's all check it out. And my Marie-boo here thought it'd be fun."

Marissa giggles and leans closer to him.

"Cut it out with the freaking pet names," Lonnie complains. "I can feel my brain cells slowly dying a horrible, torturous death."

"Don't talk about dying here," Max suddenly says, coming to stand on the other side of Travis. His eyes are grim as he studies the messy floor. "It doesn't feel right."

"Aw, are you scared already, Max?" Travis asks. "It's been what, five minutes? Maybe you should leave, like I suggested the nerd to earlier."

"Actually," Lonnie cuts in, "the term nerd refers to a personage whose standards of knowledge are elevated beyond the standard level and I do not take offense to that."

Travis looks confused before shaking his head. "Whatever. Okay. Let's just get on with this." He heads to one of the corridors branching off of the main entryway, muttering to Marissa, "I can't believe I surround myself with these people. Not you, of course."

The group follows him, Max staying silent and Lonnie occasionally rambling about the environmental reclamation of the building. "In about 150 more years," she says, "this asylum will be little more than dust blowing across a figurative field."

Unnoticed, the rusty double doors of the entrance slide back together on their own accord and, with a quiet click, lock.