Welcome to the Staff, We're All Murderers Here

PROLOGUE

I took a part-time NPC gig at a Halloween scare-a-thon and ended up treating a real-life serial killer like my favorite coworker.

I called Arthur Hobbs my brother in arms, swore a blood oath with The Giggler, and practically adopted a posse of haunted dolls as my personal pets.

Once I was in with the cast, I hooked my crush up with some insider access so he could look like a hero in front of his friends.

The next second?

He s got the resident pick-me girl tucked under his arm, laughing about how I m his Stage-Five Clinger.

"A girl that desperate?" he sneered. "I wouldn't touch her if she was naked and gift-wrapped."

A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped my lips.

Wow. Just& wow.

Since you re so damn cool, I guess I ll just keep my mouth shut about the real monsters hiding right behind you.

Enjoy the show.

01

The Harrowing at Hollow Hills was the biggest event to hit Crestfall, New York, all year.

For three straight days over the Halloween weekend, the sprawling, half-decayed estate in the Hudson Valley would become a live-action horror movie, and my best friend, Piper, was dying to be a part of it.

"I heard the monster cast is stacked with hotties!" she d said a week ago, her phone screen illuminating her face with the event s flashy Instagram page. "They have, like, an eight-pack-abs requirement or something. We have to be on the inside to get the insider info, Mia!"

That s how I found myself being sized up by a middle-aged man with a disturbingly cheerful smile. He was running the NPC interviews. He looked Piper and me up and down, a slow, methodical appraisal that made my skin crawl a little.

*We re just here to be NPCs, probably in some disgusting monster makeup,* I thought to myself. *What s with the full-body scan?*

But we passed. Piper let out a whoop of joy. The pay was surprisingly high for a part-time gig, and the promise of hyper-realistic, super-immersive horror was too good to pass up. The rules were simple: once you were in, you were in for the full seventy-two hours. No leaving. Even the lodgings were custom-designed haunted houses, where monsters could pop out of bathroom mirrors, from under your bed, or tap on your window from the outside at any given moment. It was supposed to be the ultimate thrill.

What we didn't know was that as soon as we left the interview, the cheerful man typed our details into a hidden system.

0Mia Kent, Female, 20. Measurements: 30-24-34.0

His eyes did a quick, clinical scan, probably mentally noting down my measurements for some creepy database.

0Piper Mercer, Female, 20. Measurements: 35-26-37.0

After saving the entries, he made a phone call, his voice oozing with confidence.

"They're prime cuts," he said into the receiver. "Don't worry, the clients upstairs will be more than satisfied."

On the first day of The Harrowing, we arrived half a day early. You had to hand it to them; this was a high-budget production. The event was held on a mountainside, centered around a cluster of decaying, European-style villas that looked like they d been clawed out of a gothic nightmare. The main villa in the center was for guest lodging. The others were dedicated horror-themed houses, and the surrounding forest was rigged to have psychopaths and slashers constantly emerging from the shadows. The fear factor was cranked to eleven.

Piper was practically vibrating with excitement as we walked up the winding path.

"This is perfect," she whispered, her eyes wide. "Fear is the ultimate aphrodisiac! The minute I see a hot guy in a monster mask, I m just gonna 'accidentally' stumble into his arms. It ll trigger his protective instincts!"

The NPC dorms were on the fourth floor of the main villa, which was also where the central control room was located. The old elevator rattled and groaned like a rusty iron cage being dragged from the depths of hell. It took forever to creak its way up to the fourth floor.

The moment my foot hit the floorboards, they groaned under my sneakers, the wood feeling soft and spongy with rot. The hallway that stretched out before us was oppressive, lined with a dizzying number of doors. The room numbers were weird. They weren't numbers at all, but names of infamous locations.

0CRYSTAL LAKE0

0ELM STREET0

0THE OVERLOOK0

0DERRY0

The room Piper and I were assigned to was just as strange. It was labeled: 0THE ABATTOIR0. The Slaughterhouse. Charming.

I didn't know it then, but hidden cameras in our room were already whirring to life, broadcasting our every move. Not just our room. Every guest room, every hallway, every inch of the grounds was being fed to a bank of massive screens in a secret VIP lounge where a man in a top hat, looking like a twisted ringmaster, pressed a glowing red button on his console labeled 0RELEASE0. On the main screen, a leaderboard appeared, listing various slashers. Their stats were all at zero, waiting.

"And now," the ringmaster s voice echoed through the hidden lounge, "it's showtime!"

02

*Knock. Knock. Knock.*

The sharp, urgent rapping on the door made me jump. I was in the middle of unpacking my bag of essentials. Piper had to be at a different haunt location farther away, so she d left ten minutes ago.

"Did she forget something& ?" I mumbled, walking over to the door.

I pulled it open and found a man I didn't recognize standing there. He was an old man, his hair bone-white, his face pale and gaunt, with dark, sunken pits where his eyes should be. I didn't have to guess. Definitely a coworker. My mind immediately started trying to place his character. *Okay, so he s playing the terminally ill, out-for-revenge-against-the-world type of killer. Classic.*

He offered a thin, brittle smile. His voice was a dry rasp, like leaves skittering across pavement. "Young lady& I need a bit of help with something. Could you spare a moment to come to my room?"

I didn't even think twice. "Sure."

Rule one of being a decent human being: help the elderly. Simple as that.

What I didn't see was the reaction on the hidden screens. In the VIP lounge, a wave of excited murmurs rippled through the audience.

0Looks like old Arthur Hobbs is going for the first blood of the year!0

0No mask. Luring the fish in by playing the frail old man. Smart.0

0This year s competition is about the quality of the kill, not the quantity. Hobbs is definitely a dark horse.0

0These two girls are the official 'lambs' for the opening night. Can't wait for this. Love watching a pretty little thing get taken apart. [Drool][Drool]0

The old man's room was way bigger than I expected. From the outside, it looked like a standard single dorm. Inside, it was a spacious, sterile laboratory filled with strange contraptions, most of which I couldn't even begin to identify. Realizing I was out of my element, the old man let out a dry, rattling chuckle. He began to introduce his creations with the pride of a seasoned artist.

"This is a helmet that, once activated, slices a person's head into six equal pieces. This is a swimming pool that will be filled with hypodermic needles, and the subject will be tossed inside& But ah, those aren't what I wanted to show you."

He gestured toward a surgical table covered with a pristine white cloth. With a flick of his hand, the lights in the room dimmed, leaving only a single, harsh spotlight on the table.

"You will be put into a deep sleep," he rasped, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "When you awaken, you will find the tendons in your arms and legs have been severed. Then, while you are still alive, you will experience your own dissection. Have you ever seen a fish prepared for sashimi while it's still breathing? That will be your fate& "

His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and deeply unpleasant.

"As for your crime& you are one of the foolish lambs, trapped in a cage of greed, with no respect for your own life& You should never have come here& "

As he spoke, he produced a taser from his coat pocket, its prongs crackling with blue electricity. He smiled that thin smile again and took a step toward me.

Even puppets can get tired of their strings.

03

"Wait!"

I held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. My brow was furrowed in concentration. "I think& I think something s not right here& "

In the unseen VIP lounge, the chat feed filled with jeers.

0The door's already locked. She's not getting out unless Hobbs lets her out.0

A cruel, predatory smile touched the old man s lips. "Do you have any last words?"

I tapped my chin, analyzing the situation from a professional standpoint. "It looks like you re playing the kind of killer who punishes the quote-unquote 'wicked' with their own brand of justice, right? You're a big fan of testing human nature& but I feel like your design is missing something!"

The hand holding the taser lowered slightly. He seemed intrigued. "And what, in your expert opinion, would that be?"

"Well, it's not wrong, per se& but have you considered adding another layer?" I said, warming up to the topic. "For instance, right when your victim is at their peak of mental terror and physical agony, when their will to survive is at its absolute strongest, you give them an incredibly difficult, anti-humanitarian task to complete. If they do it, you let them go."

"Then," I leaned in, my eyes gleaming with creative passion, "just as they're about to escape, a device springs from the floor and severs their Achilles tendon. That's when the real show begins. The reversal. The true judgment for their true crime. I just feel that a person can only experience the most soul-crushing despair after being given the most intoxicating hope& You know what I mean, right? Heh heh."

The chat feed exploded with question marks. The next thing they saw was the "click" of a lock turning. Arthur Hobbs himself was personally escorting me back to my room, a look of thoughtful admiration on his face.

After that, the old man and I chatted for a long time.

"I heard about an ancient torture method where they'd place a bamboo shoot under the prisoner," I told him, brainstorming. "The bamboo would grow slowly, day by day, until it pierced right through them."

"Or this one is pretty easy to set up! What about dissolving someone in the stomach acid of a large reptile?"

"Look, I get it," I said, patting his arm sympathetically. "No matter how much you love your job, you're bound to hit a creative wall after a while, especially in a mentally demanding field like yours. It s okay. If you need to bounce any more ideas off someone, just let me know. I don't have many hobbies, but I'm kind of a true-crime documentary junkie and a huge fan of psychological thrillers."

We got along great. The look of appreciation in his eyes was unmistakable.

"I must say, I quite like you," he admitted. "You re a truly interesting person."

I felt a little embarrassed. "Oh, not at all. I just think you're a man of incredible passion and craftsmanship!"

On the hidden live feed, the comments were wild.

0The 'documentaries' and 'thrillers' she's talking about& Is she referencing 'Criminal Minds' and 'Hannibal'? She's being so damn cryptic& 0

0Is this some kind of sick, twisted meeting of the minds?0

0My God, did this girl just talk her way into an alliance with the top killer?0

I wasn't thinking about any of that. From my perspective, the old man was an eloquent and creative artist, a true master of his craft who refused to let his passion wane with age. How could I refuse a request for help from someone so inspiring?

Just as Arthur Hobbs left, my phone buzzed. The caller ID showed it was Blake Harris. This was all arranged before the event even started. Blake had somehow found out I was going to be an NPC, and suddenly, he was blowing up my phone.

Piper saw right through it. "I guarantee you he's been bragging to his friends about how brave he is," she said. "He wants you to give him insider access so he can show off in front of Brooke Ashton. The guy's a three, tops."

But I was deep in my crush at the time. "He's just making smart use of his resources," I d argued. "We're good friends, after all."

Piper had just sighed. "Have fun with your boy toys, Mia. Just don't get your heart involved."

Now, his impatient voice came through the speaker. "Hey, we're inside the event grounds now. So we're good to just follow that route you gave me, right?" He let out a nervous laugh. "We're all classmates here, Mia. Don't make me look like an idiot, okay, babe?"

04

Helping Arthur had made me five minutes late for my shift. My manager called, and I braced myself for a lecture. Instead, he told me to go cover the security monitor room for a bit. The guy who was supposed to be on duty was running late.

"Sure thing," I said, heading to the room at the far end of the fourth-floor hall.

The monitor room was empty. A bank of sixteen screens showed various locations around the grounds, perfect for keeping an eye on Blake and his crew. The route I d given him was one I d carefully vetted, every encounter designed to be a fun, harmless scare.

What I didn't see was the narrow storage closet in the corner. Inside, a man in a security guard's uniform had been twisted into a horrifying human ball and shoved into the cramped space. And in the shadows of the ceiling rafters, a pair of terrible yellow eyes watched me, a silent, guttural "hee hee hee" of laughter bubbling in its throat.

As I was watching the screens, a single, bright red balloon floated out from behind a rack of servers. It drifted lazily through the air and came to a stop right in front of my face.

On the VIP feed, the chat went into a frenzy.

0EVERYBODY STAND UP!0

0The red balloon! It s his signature!0

The atmosphere in the small room suddenly felt thick and unnervingly quiet. Curiosity got the better of me. I stood up, walked over to the balloon, and slowly raised my finger.

The moment my fingertip touched the taught rubber surface, *POP!*

The balloon exploded without warning. Before I could even react, a thick, black cloud of huge cockroaches burst from the inside, their wings rubbing together with a dry, papery rustle. In an instant, the entire monitor room was plunged into a horrifying insect storm, a swirling vortex of black bodies and twitching antennae. A chorus of a million shrill, piercing giggles seemed to emanate from the insects themselves. I blinked, and for a split second, the head of every single cockroach transformed into the face of a grotesque clown. Its smile was a rictus of pure malice, a truly bizarre and nightmarish sight.

On the unseen screen, the wealthy viewers were ecstatic.

0The Giggler s murder techniques are always so bizarre and creative!0

0The more you fear him, the more powerful he becomes. This girl is terrified. She's dead meat!0

0Take her apart like a toy& piece& by piece& !0

05

*Pfft *

*Zzzt *

*Pfft *

*Zzzt *

*Pfft *

*Zzzt *

I held the can of Raid in my left hand and the electric fly swatter in my right, my face a mask of pure disgust. Seriously, the bug situation up here in the hills was no joke. Good thing I came prepared. I had bug spray, an electric fly swatter, citronella patches, insect repellent wipes& my backpack was a mobile armory against anything with more than four legs. One of them was bound to work.

The cockroaches looked like a biblical plague because they were airborne, their wings beating with a dry, papery rustle. Now, they were all just twitching little corpses on the floor. Didn't look so tough now.

What's there to be scared of, anyway? They re just crunchy little protein nuggets. Bear Grylls would call this a free lunch.

Muttering to myself, I squashed a half-dead one with the heel of my boot and then efficiently swept the pile of insect carcasses into the trash can. I had no idea that I had almost stepped on the Giggler's true form, which had shrunk down into a single cockroach. Right now, it was huddled in the storage closet, squeezed in next to the balled-up corpse of the security guard. It peeked at me through a crack in the door, its face beaded with cold sweat.

*This woman& she s a psycho!*

It thought back to its glory days in Derry, a time when it had nearly killed every child in town. And now here it was, hiding in a closet like a common pest. The more it thought, the more humiliation burned in its chest. In a fit of frustration, it slammed a tiny fist against the closet wall.

That, I heard. My head snapped toward the sound.

"Hmm& is there a rogue cockroach hiding in that closet?"

"Gotta make sure to get them all," I said to myself, grabbing a lighter from my pocket. "If they lay eggs, it'll be a nightmare. Best to just burn this one to be safe& "

Inside the closet, the Giggler's sweat started pouring down in streams. From its perspective, my eyes were filled with murderous intent. Every step I took was the footfall of the grim reaper.

*I'm going to die& This woman is terrifying& *

A cornered, desperate look flashed in its eyes. *No other choice, then. If you push me this far, don't blame me for using& that.*

Before I could even touch the handle, the closet door flew open on its own. A man in a security guard uniform, his face painted like a clown, leaped out.

"You& you are& " I started, squinting at him. I took in his bizarre appearance and strange behavior, and then it all clicked into place. "I get it! You're the coworker who was running late!"

It made perfect sense. He was an NPC, just like me, but got roped into covering the security shift last minute. He was probably hiding in the closet, scrolling on his phone, and didn't want the manager to catch him. I decided not to call him out on it. It would just be embarrassing for him.

The Giggler, meanwhile, was sweating bullets. The naked corpse that had been hidden in the closet was now fully exposed, having "generously donated" its uniform. He had thought I'd be a tough nut to crack, but the next thing he knew, I was at the door, waving goodbye.

"Well, since you're here now, my shift must be over. I'm heading out!" I said, then paused, grabbing a few things from my bag.

06

The Giggler was still standing there, dumbfounded, as I disappeared down the hall. His gaze fell upon the desk in the monitor room. There was a small carton of milk, a granola bar, a citronella patch, and a bottle of repellent.

"Huh& ?"

He reached for the milk and found a note tucked underneath it.

0The bugs here are pretty bad. You'll probably need these. P.S. Your clown makeup is insanely realistic! You could totally be a special effects artist for major horror movies. It's killer work.0

The Giggler stared at the note, stunned. Then he scoffed, his voice still a little shaky.

"Tch. This woman& she s definitely got some screws loose."

I d studied the event map beforehand, so I knew the layout of the grounds like the back of my hand. I took a shortcut through a small forest path and easily came up behind Blake and his group on the main road. According to the game's flow, they were supposed to be looking for their designated lodging for the night. It was the middle of the night, the designated "witching hour" of the event, when all the monsters were out. If they didn't find shelter soon, they'd run into all sorts of slashers.

There were ten of them in the group, with Brooke Ashton being the only girl. It looked like they d already been through a few scares. A couple of the guys who were usually the loudest and most obnoxious were now looking pale and jumpy.

"I'm not gonna lie, Blake," one of them said, clapping him on the back. "You've got balls of steel, man! I never would have guessed it when we're all watching horror movies back at the dorm."

"Yeah, man! When that thing dropped out of the tree, even I jumped! You didn't even flinch."

"In a place this realistic, even a Navy SEAL would be screaming for his mommy!"

Of course Blake wasn't scared. I d sent him a detailed map and a schedule of every single jump scare. He was basking in his friends' praise, a smug look on his face.

"Heh, what s there to be scared of? It s all fake! You guys are just cowards. I fall asleep to ghost stories. Bring on ten more monsters, I won't even blink!"

Brooke was looking at him with undisguised admiration, her hand clutching his sleeve. Her eyes, wide and doe-like, flickered over to the topic of me.

"Blake, I heard you and Mia Kent are good friends? I think she's working here tonight& "

Before Blake could answer, another guy, one who clearly had a crush on Brooke, let out a dismissive snort.

"Oh, she's here alright. On the clock. As an NPC. We've probably already seen her! She was likely one of those hideous-looking female ghosts back there."

Brooke pouted her lips, but the smile in her eyes was obvious. "Hey, don't be mean!" Then she looked up at Blake. "Mia's so tall and thin, and really pretty. You two must be close, right? Not like me, I'm so short I have to wear platform boots with everything& ugh& "

Seriously? Do guys actually fall for that kind of crap?

A second later, Blake let out a hearty laugh, and the sound of it made my blood run cold.

First, search for and download the Novellia app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "717052" to read the entire book.