I remember when a man electrocuted himself at the asylum. He bit down on the radio antenna he shoved into the wall socket, and he set his room on fire. No one knows his name, or even what he looked like. Only that he went nuts and the news went wild with the burning of Havenbrook. The staff were pestered for weeks, and that was all anyone talked about at school. I think I was in first grade then. I shudder as I stand across the street from this place, while holding Heather's hand. People have died in that building, and many of them were nameless to the outside world. Most of them were abandoned by their families. Either because they were too violent or too difficult to live with. No wonder Havenbrook was shut down after the fire.

But now, as we stand together, I stare at the abandoned asylum. The lights are still on, but I don't think anyone is in there. It seems strange that a place which has been abandoned would still have electricity, but there it is. I turned away from the asylum and gazed at Heather. Her head rested against my shoulder, and she was humming. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to enjoy the moment of us just being together. I brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

I said, "so, why do you think the lights in that place are still on?" Her eyes opened and she looked at the asylum. She drew a hard squint and thought for a moment. A summer breeze fell upon us, and the crickets began to sing. We rocked, and she shrugged at my question.

She said, "don't know," her attention turned toward me. Her eyes were dark brown, and she gave a curved smile. She continued, "do you want to go over there and check it out?" I smiled. How could I not want to check it out? Her hand brushed against my side and I felt butterflies in my stomach. A smile I couldn't restrain pressed upon me, and my heart raced in my chest. I wrapped my arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.

I pulled my attention away from her and returned it to the asylum. The breeze had steadied and created a subtle symphony. As the gales whistled through branches and leaves. Air, cool and dry, pushed against us. Together we stood under the flashing red and yellow glow of the movie theatre lights. Once I got over my nerves, I took a breath and said, "it's your birthday. What would you like to do?"

Her eyes closed and she smiled as she said, "I'm already doing what I want to do." She pushed away from me, and as her smile grew, her cheeks nearly concealed her eyes. She continued, "I've always been a lady for adventure, let's go." Other people go there all the time, why not go there now?

I wrapped my fingers around hers and leaned forward for a kiss. Her lips fell on mine and as our foreheads touched, I whispered, "I love you." She smiled returned a soft kiss, and then proceeded to kiss the tip of my nose and then my cheeks. Heather knows that I'm ticklish. Because of that, she kissed my neck, and I couldn't stop laughing as I inched away from her. She held me tight and continued to make kissing noises.

After a few seconds, she said, "fine, fine! Let's get over there because we only have a few hours. At least we'll have a good story for school tomorrow." She began to walk toward the asylum, and I followed.

I said, "yeah, everyone has an asylum story except for us." I scooped her hand in my own and together we crossed the street. A vast field, freshly trimmed, glistened with dew. The scent which lingers after cutting grass still hung in the air. We walked through the shallow field and approached the parking lot of the asylum.

The pavement was dark gray and there were potholes peppered around. A few streetlights were unlit, while others flickered a soft yellow glow. Mayflies buzzed around the lights. There was one particular owl hooting from somewhere unseen. We stepped onto the pavement and looked at the building. It stood three stories tall and many of the windows were yellow and broken. The shingles of the roof folded upward, and a gutter hung down one side of the building.

I scanned the side of the building, in search of a door or window to enter through. There was a road that cut through the parking lot, and at the opposite end of where we are, there is a driveway. I assume this driveway is intended for patient drop off. There are two doors, both old and brown. After closer inspection, I noticed one door was ajar. We walked together toward that door, and as the distance closed between us, I closed my eyes. Dinner was perfect. The movie was perfect. She is perfect. I felt her tug on my arm.

She said, "keep walking with your eyes closed, and you'll trip!" smiled and I opened my eyes. The space between us and the doors shrank, and my heart began to race. My cheeks felt cold now, and my hands began to tingle. The excitement and rush of a scary adventure thrilled me, and I believe Heather felt the same. I studied her for a second and noticed her brave demeanor had become timid. Her shoulders were slunk in, and she tapped her fingertips together. Her eyes darted to mine and then back to the door. A smile, once large, had disappeared. Genuine concern had taken hold of her every expression.

I exhaled a deep breath and puffed my chest out. I said, "still a lady of adventure?" in the most masculine tone I could muster. She swatted at my arm and chuckled. I exhaled and nodded.

Heather said, "I'm not scared, just cautious. There could be a pack of coyotes or something else in there." She looked through the crack of the doors, and continued, "or rabid raccoons." I stepped forward and examined the door. It was a steel door painted red. The paint had begun to peel off and there were pools of rust spreading from random spots. I grabbed the handle, and it was cold. Once my grip was firm, I grabbed Heather's hand, and I opened the door.

The door cried as I pulled it open, and we passed through the doorway of the asylum. As we entered, my attention fell onto a vast staircase that rose to a second level. On both sides of this staircase, on the ground level, were two doors. Both had a black screen above the doors, likely elevators which have long since been dead. A thin veil of dust, revealed by the moonlight, draped over us. Particles, too small to arrest our attention, fluttered from heights unseen. The air, cool and still, clung to us.

Despite how mildly warmtonight was, sweat began to bead onto my back and across my forehead. My heartraced, and my legs felt weak. I squeezed Heather's hand, and she squeezed back.I look up at the ceiling. There are intricate circular designs above us. Thewalls, tinged brown with dirt and yellow with age, had similar molds. Intricatecircles carved at the center of rectangles. This pattern repeated itself. Theengravings were shallow, and not too intrusive. I stepped forward and therubble from the building crunched under my feet. 

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