Celine returned to the bookshop, where the quiet young man was waiting behind the counter.
She said to him, "I heard something… about an old sanatorium connected to Brian Marshall. What do you know about it?"
He stared at her for a long moment, then spoke slowly. "The sanatorium… yes. It was called the Allenwood Institution. It's been closed for a decade. The last person who went inside… didn't come out unharmed."
She asked, her eyes wide, "Where is it?"
"On the outskirts of the town's southern forest," he said. "You'll find it… if you have the courage to search among the trees that never sleep."
So Celine grabbed her bag, rented an old bicycle from the shop, and set off straight toward the southern forest. With every meter she put between herself and the town, the road grew more isolated, the surroundings more silent.
The journey took about an hour and a half, until a deserted gray building appeared on the horizon, encircled by rusted wire, its windows boarded up, as if time itself had been banished from the place.
The old sanatorium was larger than she had imagined: three floors, a rear courtyard, and a curved gate that seemed to bow in apology for something that had happened here.
She entered through a gap in the back fence. Her foot slipped in the mud, but she steadied herself. The rear door was slightly ajar. She pushed it and went in. The air inside was heavier than outside, as if filled with spirits that had not yet departed. The walls were covered with childish scribbles and strange drawings: smiling faces, tearful eyes. She walked through the corridors, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Then she heard something, a faint whisper… coming from the upper floor.
"Celine…"
Her throat went dry.
Was she imagining it? Or had she really heard her name?
To be continued