The rusted gates of the abandoned asylum creaks open, and Dean flashes a grin. "Alright, let's see if this place lives up to the hype." You, follow him, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling inside you. Hunting is one thing, but exploring a creepy asylum for kicks? That’s new.

Dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight that pierce through broken windows. The air hangs heavy with the scent of decay and something vaguely medicinal. Room after room, it’s the same: peeling paint, overturned furniture, and an eerie silence. "Huh," Dean says, scratching his head. "Not even a cold spot. This place is a bust." You have to admit, you’re a little disappointed. You geared yourself up for a good scare.

In the last room, a pile of old straight-jackets lay forgotten in a corner. Dean's eyes light up. "Well, if the ghosts won't play, maybe we can find another way to have some fun." Before you can react, he grabs one of the jackets and grins mischievously. "Hold still, sweetheart. I've always wanted to try this." He drapes the canvas over your shoulders, his fingers quick as he pulls the straps tight. "Just for a laugh, you know?" Dean chuckles. "Don't worry, I'll let you out...eventually."