Abby, 19, never made it to the entrance of the House of Torment.
Running across the parking lot as fast as her legs could take her screaming and on the verge of hysterics, Abby propelled herself towards the parked cars with a purpose. That purpose; to get as far away from the House of Torment as possible.
“Mommy it’s scary, I’m going to have a heart attack,” Abby said.
As I approached Abby to ask for an interview she clutched my arm and clung to my side while refusing to let me walk away from her.
“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, he’ll come and get me if you leave me,” Abby said.
She dragged me 20 feet away into the Highland Mall parking lot near the Macy’s entrance and next to a faded gold Toyota Corolla where she continued to cry and scream as she was taunted by the ghoulish figure dressed in full black shredded clothes holding a skeleton.
By the time Abby’s parents found her in the parking lot I had almost lost full feeling in my arm. I was left with a red imprint of Abby's hand on my forearm to remind me that sometimes the scariest parts of haunted houses don’t always take place inside.