After I Quit the Haunted House Show

I stood at the door with both arms stretched wide, blocking Joyce Gordon from leaving. Inside the room, Sammy Shaffer clung timidly to her, peeking out from behind her arm.

"Please, Joyce," he pleaded pitifully. "I'm scared to sleep alone at night."

"Dante, why the hell are you stopping me?" Joyce demanded, looking at me with open disgust. "Don't tell me you want to sleep with me instead? That's never going to happen."

Hearing that outrageous accusation for the second time, I finally understood what had happened. I'd been sent back in time to the exact moment before everything went horribly wrong.

Shaffer Mansion wasn't the kind of place an ordinary person could walk into and expect to walk back out of alive.

The moment I'd learned my childhood friends were coming here to film a reality show, I'd refused to sit back and watch them walk straight into danger. I'd pulled every string I could, used every connection I had, and managed to get myself onto the show.

The three girls had all left the church years ago and gone on to build successful careers. One after another, they'd become celebrities in their own right.

I was the only one who stayed behind. Born with a unique spiritual constitution, I had to inherit Father Forrest Harvey's practice.

Ever since stepping foot inside Shaffer Mansion, we had been followed by Sammy.

Everyone else thought he was adorable, believing he was just a sweet little boy who simply needed someone to look after him. I was the only one who could see the truth.

Sammy wasn't a child. He wasn't even human anymore.

The moment he appeared, Joyce, the normally untouchable beauty, had turned into a doting sweetheart, showering him with more warmth and affection than I'd ever seen her give anyone.

Mamie Randall, who was usually loud, carefree, and incapable of sitting still for more than a few minutes, spent every spare moment trying to make the boy laugh.

Flavia Wilson was even worse.

The instant Sammy so much as sniffled, her maternal instincts kicked into overdrive. She'd become fiercely protective, ready to tear apart anyone who dared make him cry.

In their eyes, I was the only person cruel enough to hurt the poor boy.

I'd tried everything to keep them away from him. Whenever Sammy got too close, I'd put myself between them. Now I was reliving the moment of blocking Joyce's door and stopping her from going to sleep in Sammy's room.

I hadn't yielded an inch, which led to Sammy showing up the next morning with red, swollen eyes. The three girls had locked me in a pitch-black holding room to reflect on my behavior.

Now I just wanted to stay alive. So, I simply stepped aside and gave them an apologetic smile.

"Ah, sorry. I was just doing the splits."

Joyce and Sammy both froze in astonishment.

"At least you know when to quit," Joyce snorted.

Behind me, Mamie gaped at me as though she'd just witnessed a miracle. "What happened to this guy? Why is he suddenly so obedient?"

Flavia shrugged. "Joyce has already called him out on what he was really after. How does he still have the nerve to stop us?"

Mamie pondered. "That's right. This guy is just shameless."

Joyce took Sammy by the hand and started leading him past me toward his bedroom. I stretched out an arm and blocked them again. "Hold on."

Joyce stopped and gave me a look that said she'd known this was coming. "What now? What kind of stunt are you pulling this time?"

I held out my hand. "On the first day we met, I gave each of you a gift. You can go if you want. But I want those gifts back first."