‘Hang on.’ Ryan activates the torch on his mobile but his hand is shaking so much the light judders as he sweeps his phone around the room. From the walls, Pennywise the clown from IT glares down at them from a torn poster, while on another, it’s the Joker from Batman.

‘Remember that Halloween when we came here and rented out costumes for the primary school party?’ Ryan whispers.

‘Yeah. I was Woody and you were Buzz Lightyear.’

‘This place is trashed.’ The counter in the corner was black and charred. The stench of urine clogged Connor’s throat.

They stick close together, edging their way around the room.

A noise. From beyond the door to the stockroom.

Ryan lowers his torch. Connor picks up on the tension radiating from him.

The fear.

He feels it too.

‘Should we call the police?’ Ryan whispers.

‘No.’ Connor is dizzy. Afraid. But also impatient, he doesn’t want to wait for the police. He wants to… know. He wants to stop wondering all the time where his friend is, whether he is scared. Alone. Hurt…

Alive.

In sync, they shuffle forwards, careful not too tread to heavily on the glass that litters the floor.

Shh.

Again, the sound of something moving.

They hesitate.

Connor’s heart hammering against his ribcage.

He’s torn between fight or flight. Desperate to run away but what if it’s Tyler back there? Hurt?

He moves slowly towards the door.

Reaches for the handle.

Raises his crowbar in his other hand.

Beside him, he can hear Ryan’s short, shallow breaths.

Connor begins to count, softly.

One.

Two.

Three.

Simultaneously, he throws open the door as Ryan raises his torch.

‘Fuck!’ Ryan jumps as two rats scurry past them. ‘Shit, man. I thought…’ He sweeps the light around the room. ‘Urghh, rats. Let’s get out of here.’

‘No wait.’ Connor strides over to a small skip against the wall. ‘Shine your torch over here.’

The light glints off the metal clothes rails on the top of the skip. Connor pulls them out. Underneath are some torn costumes. He can’t reach any deeper.

‘I’m getting in.’

Inside the skip, anxiety causes a heat that’s insufferable. The air suddenly thin. He feels…

Trapped.

Is this the way Hailey…

He shakes away the thought before it can properly form and crouches down. Rummages around the rubbish. The stench causing his stomach to roil. Something slimy, a rotting banana skin. Something hard, a row of coat hooks. And then…

Fingers.

A hand.

Connor whimpers but then he realizes the hand is hard. Plastic. One of the shop mannequins.

‘Christ.’ He begins to smile. ‘If Tyler could see us now.’ They both laugh before remembering he is the reason they are doing this.

Later, the boys have said goodbye and Connor is almost home.

An owl hoots.

A dog barks.

His road is quiet.