"So, like… what are we doing here?" I asked, stopping just short of the old church.
White paint—peeling, flaking, clinging on for dear life.
Up close, it didn't look haunted.
Just… tired.
Like something that had been forgotten a long time ago and never bothered anyone enough to be removed.
In the daytime, at least, it lost most of its edge.
I'd seen the videos. The stupid dares. People sneaking in at night, whispering into their phones, claiming they felt something watching them. Something breathing down their necks.
All of that felt… smaller now. Standing here.
It was just a long, rectangular box sitting in the middle of the woods.
Surrounded by silence.—The kind that pressed in..
The kind that pressed in if you paid attention long enough.
"Why?" she asked. "Scared?"
I could swear there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
But considering she hadn't spoken much since we left the market, maybe that was just me reading into it.
So far, I i thought to myself, two things I've learned. One—I'm never getting answers.
Two—she barely talks.
I learned that the hard way.
Three minutes.—That's how long I lasted walking before I started complaining.
Surprisingly, she actually let us take the 24 bus after that.
"Me? Please," I said, straightening a little. "There's nothing to be scared of right now."
It wasn't even night yet.
Honestly, we could've just taken the bus from the start, but she clearly just wanted to wander the streets.
Her eyes had been scanning everything during those three minutes like she was looking for something.
"Fearlessness is basically my middle name," I added.
She raised an eyebrow.
That was it.
"I mean it," I continued. "I'm not scared. Plus, it's daytime. Everyone knows nothing exciting happens during the day."
My words went straight into the void.
She had already moved on, circling the building, her attention fixed on the peeling white paint and rotting wood.
I frowned slightly and followed her.
It was weird.
Just… a church.
In the middle of the forest.
Like someone had dropped it there and forgotten it existed. I didn't know the history of it, but i found it odd that it was just....there.
Graffiti covered most of the outer walls—layers of names, symbols, and random scribbles left behind by conspiracy hunters and bored teenagers.
Some even from those Halloween parties people used to throw here.
Crunch.
Glass shifted under her heels as she stepped forward.
Broken window panes scattered around the base of the building.
Inside looked worse. Way worse.
Where the outside had been left to plastic and glass, the inside was just… decay.
Dark. —Filthy.
Benches overturned—or missing entirely.
And for some reason, it felt darker than it should've been.
"…You're not here to, like… catch a ghost, right?" I asked.
I meant it as a joke.
It was a joke.
But the silence that followed made me question that real fast.
She kept walking.
No reaction.
Nothing.
She stopped at the back of the building, near that ugly green-and-blue mural someone had painted years ago.
I remembered that. —Some guy had filmed himself doing it and posted it online.
That was the last straw before the city chained the place up to keep people out.
Clearly, that hadn't lasted.
The chains were gone.
Or no one cared enough to replace them.
"We found a body here." I froze.
My head snapped toward her.
She said it so casually.
So… normal.
"I-…What?"
She didn't even look at me.
Her hand lifted, fingers brushing against the wood—no, not brushing.
Her nails touched first.
Sharp, almond-shaped, navy-blue.
Then her fingertips followed, pressing lightly into the warped surface.
The wood creaked under the pressure.
"Aren't you going to, like… elaborate?" I asked.
I waited.—But, nothing came.
She didn't say another word. Her eyes moved across the wall like she was seeing something I couldn't.
There was nothing there.
Just old graffiti.
Why was she acting like this was normal?
The breath I'd taken when she said those words still sat heavy in my chest.
My mouth slightly open. Still trying to process it.
I mean—this was New Bethlehem.
People died all the time.
I got that.
But I had never been anywhere near a crime scene before.
"Getting cold feet on me, Randy?" she asked suddenly.
I blinked, she was already moving again, rounding the building back toward the front.
Guess I'd zoned out longer than I thought.
"Why are we here?" I asked, jogging a little to catch up. "Daniel said you're some kind of cop, but bringing me? That's just—no.
That's not it. Why didn't you tell me first?"
I was only a couple steps behind her when—
Something moved.
Just for a split second. In the corner of my eye. Inside the church, through the broken window.
I stopped. My head turning towards it withe furrowed eyes, same time as she did. But unlike mine she hade a blank look to her face.
Looked properly; There wasn't anything there.
Just the reflection of a tree's that didn't bother anyone.
"…Right," I muttered, forcing myself forward again.
"Well," she said, her gaze still fixed on the same window, "if I had told you… you wouldn't have come."
She wasn't wrong.
"I mean, yeah. I probably wouldn't have," I admitted.
She turned her head slightly. —And smiled.
Then kept walking toward the entrance.
"I don't like you," I said flatly. "And this is the last time I'm walking with you."
She finally adjusted my bag on her shoulder.
The movement shifted her navy-blue trench coat just enough for me to notice something.
Dust.
Fine.
Metallic.
Glistening slightly.
Ash?—Probably.
I followed her anyway. "No next time?" she said lightly. "Careful. I know your name."
I didn't need to see her face to know she was smiling.
"I know yours too," I shot back.
She dismissed it instantly.
"Yeah," she said. "But you don't know what to do with it." Her fingers trailed lazily along the door as we reached it.
Old.—Brown.
Completely unremarkable.
And before I could even take a proper look—
She pushed it open.
Silently.
The only sound was the echo of her heels against the wooden floor inside, the boards creaking in protest.
For some reason…I looked back.
At the path we took.
Worn down from years of people coming and going. A clear trail leading all the way back to Mulberry Street. I should go back.
My foot shifted.
I swallowed, hard to the point I could hear myself swallow it before it even happened. Eyes firmly on the patent in front of me. Mira long deep into the church making the only noise in these woods. —Heel pressing into the ground.—Flat. Still.