The faded sign read '..HUR.T ... ASLYUM', but he knew what he was looking at without attempting to read it.
Ashurst Asylum. Said to have housed the most deranged patients, the most murderous and the most fearsome. Within its dark interior, the towered building harboured secrets, secrets most would never know.
The building never scared him, its looming turrets and arched windows were oppressive to some, but not him. He found comfort in its stone walls, solace in its tattered furnishings, and joy in its depraved history.
After all, this had been home for a time.
He'd learnt techniques from his fellow lodgers, gathered in the basement after lights out. They could have escaped at any time but preferred to keep their Houdini skills quiet. Why leave the one place you could be yourself? Three hot meals, a bed, and access to medications - not that the staff knew what they were up to.
Until that night.
He'd been waiting patiently on the edge of his bed when the door clicked, then opened.
Silently, they had roamed the corridors, releasing the twenty-six other guests. The staff didn't know what hit them, had no time to react. They were sedated, confined, and undiscoverable.
Authorities gave up searching. No one had been found, the building had swallowed them whole. He smiled and made his way through the heavy oak door, down the dark corridor to the stairs.
The basement. Where it had all begun.
Hitting a brick with his fist, the wall swung open. He laughed and greeted his friends. Twenty-eight of them, including him, had made their home down here. Along with their favourite toys.
The staff.
Only a handful remained. He held up the bag. His friends cheered.
It began in the basement.
It would end in the basement.
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