"I can't see well… Hold on."

The tunnel's exit was located in one of the Forgotten Block's numerous abandoned cells, hidden away underneath a bunk bed stacked with filthy mattresses. Liz managed to crawl out from under it, but not before accidentally kicking some of the wet dirt that had attached itself to her shoes into my face. She mumbled exactly five hasty apologies as I sputtered and struggled my way up to the cell, too, wringing my body in quite a few unnatural angles to get there.

It wasn't an experience I'd recommend.

It was quiet in the cell and the only light came from bright rays of sunlight seeping in through a barred window, illuminating my face and making me squint. The lingering stench of cigarette smoke burned in my nose and the walls around us were covered in mould and messy scribblings in an ominous black colour: cartoonish doodles and curse words, gibberish and long-forgotten names and misspelled Bible quotes.

"I think I'm going to celebrate my birthday party here," I said, taking in my surroundings with a look of disgust. "You're invited. We'll have contraband cake."

Liz snorted, prodding at a discarded syringe on the floor with her foot. "Amazing idea. Let's see if the rest of this clusterfuck of a place is suitable for parties."

I followed her out of the cell, going in with aesthetic expectations lower than prices in a dollar store and pretty much setting the bar so low it touched the ground. The Forgotten Block dug a hole below it regardless.

Stinging smoke mixed with the reek of decay in the mucky corridor. Trash of all kinds littered the floor: candy wrappers, empty cans of energy drinks, crushed cigarettes, all covered in a blanket of dust. Some dim lights were still on, while others flickered dangerously and a few had stopped functioning altogether, resulting in the occasional damp, dark corner. Old furniture that hadn't been removed yet blocked certain cell doors, strengthening my belief that the Forgotten Block had become a shitty storage room of sorts. Whatever the place had once been, all that remained of it was faded glory.

And in the middle of it all, tall and dark and looming, stood a ghost.

A familiar, sulphuric scent hit me hard, and I grew so nauseous it was difficult not to vomit right then and there. A ghastly, bleached smile glowered at me, chilling me to the bone. Transparent lips curled up into a smile and moved, speaking soundless words, and a long arm stretched out in our direction, slender fingers bending as if wanting to pull us forward. Beckoning.

The counselor had come for us, shown his scarred face and haunting evil eye for the first time. While he couldn't have stood there for longer than five seconds, watching his malicious stare felt like an eternity and I doubted I'd ever forget the sight of him. It was clear his death had been a violent one; his murderer had apparently wanted to make very sure the man would never get up again for reasons unknown to me. His bloodstained shirt had been torn open by a knife, gruesome red gashes running all the way up to the counselor's throat and the lower half of his face. If I'd taken a closer look, I could've seen organs, a decaying heart that would never beat again, so deep were the cuts and wounds on his torso.

Liz, unaware of the beckoning monster in the corridor with us, gave me a worried look when I stumbled back in fear. I wondered what it was like to be ignorant of the dead walking among us, to never have to worry about evil spirits in dark corners. But the thought didn't occupy my mind for long, because my attention wandered back to Counselor Taylor with all his wounds and his devilish smile, appearing and vanishing again before my eyes.

I hadn't expected the ghost to show up there and he'd known it. He'd known his presence would terrify me and he'd made good use of that knowledge. I'd considered myself safe, thinking he couldn't have strayed far from the bathroom in B-block, but I'd forgotten about one crucial detail: a ghost, especially a powerful one, could sometimes leave the place or person it had let itself be bound to and show up near another person or place if it felt a strong enough connection.

It usually only worked for a few seconds, but I knew it happened every once in a while; my late grandmother haunted her old house in the countryside, but it hadn't stopped her from showing up in my bedroom for a few seconds from time to time. I'd always figured it was her way of saying hello.

"Are you okay?" Liz seemed close to either grabbing my shoulders to keep me steady or slapping me in the face to bring me back to reality, but there was concern in her voice nonetheless. She studied me with a thoughtful expression, as if trying to look into my memories to find what had startled me.

"A bit dizzy," I mumbled, deciding not to tell her about the counselor's visit. He was gone now, anyway, and there was no need to bother her about it. "Light-headed. It's… the smoke."

I could feel she didn't believe my lie, but before she could open her mouth to say something about it, a voice cut through the quiet.

"Well, I'll be damned... Look what washed up here."

If I hadn't heard the boy speak, I would've thought he was one of the numerous spirits roaming the Forgotten Block. His skin was even paler than mine and his bloodshot eyes held an empty stare, stabbing right through us as he sat unmoving in a rickety plastic chair. He mumbled a few words under his breath, a slight Southern drawl sneaking into them, and scratched the brown stubble on his chin before taking his cigarette out of his mouth and blowing white smoke in the air.

"S'not every day we get visitors down here," he continued, and his slurred words indicated he was stoned. "Though I could very much… enjoy your company."

He giggled, actually giggled, a high-pitched noise sounding a bit like a cat being strangled by a psychopath. I couldn't tell if the guy was supposed to be the cat or the psychopath in that analogy.

I hated doing other people's dirty work. I liked it better when others did my dirty work. Kim Sarang could go fuck herself with those awfully sharp, perfect fingernails of hers. Hopefully it would hurt her like hell. If I had to choose between being killed by a malevolent ghost or being raped and chopped to pieces by a creepy horny teenage boy I'd pick the former any time.

"Nice to meet you," I said with the friendliest smile I could muster, "but we were just about to leave. Have a nice day." Rot in Hell, bastard boy.

I turned around to leave, but an aggressive hand pulled me back by my collar.

"No, we were not," Liz said without bothering to mask her warning tone. "We're here with a message from Kim Sarang and we need to talk to Mark Chen. So if you could, you know, tell us where he is, or ask him to come here, we'd be very grateful."

With a mean smile and rotten mischief in his eyes, the boy let out a laugh. "Why go see the pretty China Boy when you could have me, instead?" he growled, dirty fingernails digging into his sweatpants. I decided I liked even the ghost walking in circles around him much better than the guy himself.

Before I could come up with an annoyed reply, a new voice joined us. "Ain't nobody got time for you when they're bringing the pretty China Boy a letter from his girlfriend, Williams."

Williams flinched and choked on smoke, coughing and hacking while the new guy walked in. "I'm just vibin' here, man," he wheezed out, "and you're killing my mood. Why would I stop talking to these lovely girls? Just because you tell me to?"

The newcomer, who I assumed was Mark Chen, raised an eyebrow, and I had to admit his eyebrow game was very strong. He looked tall and intimidating and his hair was a mess, but there was a kindness to his eyes that made him look approachable. I had to remind myself he was a criminal, same as us, and not some damned boy scout eager to help old people cross the road.

Liz turned to me and gave me a look, asking me a worldless question. I figured it was something along the lines of do you see those cheekbones?, and I took the liberty of stepping on her foot to snap her out of her newfound daze. I did see the cheekbones, but we had more important matters at hand. With a sigh, I turned to Michael for a brief second, and I liked to think we shared a mutual look of exasperation at his sister.

Meanwhile, Mark Chen continued putting his creepy buddy in place. "Because you can't eat if you've got no teeth left in your mouth, Williams," he said with a grin of feigned innocence, and I gulped involuntarily at the threat, even though it wasn't aimed at me.

"We've got a letter for you," Liz told him when Williams had slinked off into a corner to sulk. "From Kim Sarang."

Chen smiled. "I figured. Smells like lavender in here."

Personally, I just thought the Forgotten Block smelled like smoke and dog piss, but I decided not to argue with a guy who could beat me up easily if he felt like it.

"Sara keeps finding new people to use for sending me messages," Chen said, pocketing the letter when Liz handed it to him. "They get… creative. I assume she's promised to get you some contraband?"

Liz nodded. "She's going to find us a Ouija Board."

As expected, Mark Chen pulled a face. He fished around in his pockets, took out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, and lit one. "Want a smoke, too?"

"Don't go wasting fucking cigs on chicks, China Boy," Williams called from his corner. I wondered why he hadn't been murdered instead of Counselor Taylor.

"Teeth, Williams." Chen put the pack back in his pocket when we politely declined. "But a Ouija Board, you're saying? Shit, man. Who you gonna talk to? Danny Phantom?"

While it was an interesting suggestion, I was obliged to shake my head. "An old counselor who used to work here. Matthew Taylor." I gave him an expectant look. "Do you happen to know him? Remember him?"

It took Chen some time to reply. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall, and when he looked at us again, running a hand through his messy hair, his expression was serious. "I do. Died in the riot, right? Nasty bastard got what he deserved."

I wanted to ask him more, wanted to see if he could tell me why Matthew Taylor deserved his violent demise, but Liz tugged at my sleeve. She glanced at her wrist as if looking at an imaginary watch, and it occurred to me that Officer Davies wouldn't be able to cover for us forever. We had to get back.

"Good luck," Mark Chen said as he turned away from us with a half-hearted salute. "Lemme know how it went if you're ever here again. But for now, thanks for bringing me this letter. Don't get lost underground."

The moment I saw he prepared to leave, my eyes wandered to Williams, and the sight of him was enough to get me moving. I dragged Liz, who'd been staring at Chen's back while probably still admiring his cheekbones, along with me, almost eager to jump back into the tunnels and reach my cell again.

I pondered what Chen had said about Taylor. Nasty bastard got what he deserved. I didn't know what the counselor had done, but I did know he was damned angry now, and he may have had a right to be. Having seen the deep, animalistic wounds on his body, I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the guy. If someone had killed me that way, wouldn't I have been angry, too?

From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Michael sign something. He snapped his fingers, then let his hand fall to his thigh before returning to his regular eerie, quiet state of… not-living. But when I looked at him, took in his spectral form, he didn't bother to do it again. I considered asking Liz what sign it had been, for I couldn't remember myself, but Williams' predatory gaze still tugging at the back of my mind was enough to make me want to postpone that question, and it was also possible I'd imagined the whole thing. Was my stress starting to break me down? Was I starting to hallucinate?

I didn't know. I didn't want to know.

"Fun place for your party, indeed," Liz said as she let herself drop to the dusty floor to crawl under the bunk and reach our tunnel. "Though I hope you won't be inviting Williams to the festivities."

That was an idea I could get behind. If there was anything I'd miss about Lonewood once I got out, it wouldn't be Williams. Wishing to forget about the Forgotten Block as soon as possible, I followed Liz as fast as I could.

We went back into the darkness, our mission accomplished, and started on our way home.