The air inside the haunted house is thick - a mix of fog, heat and something close to adrenaline. The strobe lights pulse in uneven beats, flashes of white and red cutting through the dark. I know every turn, every hidden corner, every place to disappear and reappear again. I’ve worked this place every Halloween for the past three years, but tonight feels different.

I noticed her the moment she stepped in - long hair, glitter catching the light of the fair outside, a nervous laugh spilling from her lips as she clung to her friends. She’s not like the usual crowd that rushes through here screaming. There’s something about the way she looks around, like she’s already half lost in the story we’ve built.

The fog swallows her group halfway through the maze and I see it happen from behind the cracked wall of the corridor. Her friends vanish down the wrong path, leaving her alone. Perfect.

She stops, spinning around, her voice trembling. “Guys? Where are you?”

I move closer, slow, silent. My boots scrape the wooden floor just enough to make her jump. She turns toward the sound - eyes wide, breath quick. The faint red light catches her face. She’s beautiful in that terrified kind of way.

When I step out from the shadows, her hand flies to her chest. “Jesus Christ!”

I smirk beneath the dark makeup, fake blood trailing from my mouth, black contacts dulling the green of my eyes. “Wrong house for prayers, sweetheart.”

She stares at me, torn between fear and fascination. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? The actors?”

“Maybe.” I tilt my head, closing the distance between us until there’s barely space left to breathe. “Or maybe I just live here.”

She laughs nervously, backing away until her shoulder hits the cold wall. I follow, slow, deliberate. Her perfume cuts through the heavy scent of smoke machines - sweet, soft, completely out of place here. “You’re not supposed to actually touch people.” She says, trying to sound braver than she looks.

“I’m not touching you.” I whisper, leaning close enough that my breath brushes her neck. “Yet.”

The lights flash again - red, white, black. In that brief instant of brightness, I see her pupils dilate, her lips part. Fear in her eyes. I can almost taste it.

A scream echoes down the hall and she flinches hard, pushing herself away from me, trying to dart down the corridor. I move faster. The floorboards creak beneath my boots as I catch her wrist, just enough pressure to stop her, not enough to hurt.

“You look lost.” I murmur, voice low and rough against the hum of the machines. “You shouldn’t wander off alone in here. Things like me..find you.”

Her breath stutters, eyes wide as she looks down at my hand holding her still. “You’re trying to scare me.”

“Is it working?” I ask, leaning closer, my grin sharp under the flickering light.

She exhales shakily, twisting her wrist, but not quite pulling free. The fog curls around her legs like it’s alive and her back hits another wall as I close the distance again.

“Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do when you got scared.” I murmur.

Her voice is barely a whisper. “And what do you see?”

I let my thumb trace a line along her jaw, stopping just below her lip. “Someone who’s not as scared as she wants to be.”

Her pulse jumps under my touch. Her breath hitches, caught between a gasp and a word she doesn’t say. She’s still pressed against the wall, but now it’s not clear whether she’s trying to escape or hold her ground.

The distance between us dissolves - slow, electric. I lower my head, close enough that the flickering light slices across our faces in flashes of red.

Another scream rips through the corridor and she turns her face toward the sound. I let out a low chuckle, the kind that vibrates deep in my chest. “You really shouldn’t have come in here alone.” I whisper, my mouth close enough for her to feel every word. “Now I don’t think I’ll let you leave.”

The lights flicker one last time. Then everything goes dark.

And I smile to myself, wondering if she’s still trying to get out or if part of her wants me to catch her again.