Raccoon City. American Midwest.
On the outskirts, in the Arklay Mountains, a mansion.
November 13, 1967. A lone figure stands at the front door. It was George Trevor, the popular American architect responsible for its design and construction.
Oswell E. Spencer had invited him and his family to his inauguration as a thank you. He took it as a hiatus before starting the renovation of Ashford Hall requested by Edward Ashford, whom he had met on Spencer's recommendation.
Jessica, his wife, and Lisa, his young daughter, just turned 14, would be the first to go. Then he would go after work...
But when he arrived, he couldn't see his wife and daughter anywhere.
He went into the house.
November 13, 1967
I finished work, left New York and parked in front of the mansion in the evening, around 6 p.m.
The spacious main lobby. The ornate two staircases leading to the first floor... damn, I missed it.
It took me five years to erect it according to Spencer's guidelines, much longer than expected, but it was worth it.
I watched Spencer descend the stairs to meet me. He excused Jessica and Lisa's absence by explaining that they had left to visit Aunt Emma, who had fallen ill.
In the dining room on the first floor, we toasted the mansion. Spencer had arranged on the long mahogany table a collection of luxurious plates of fine pottery. Above, a statue by Rodin stood out against the handrail of the second-floor gallery. The statue seemed to watch the service with envy.
For an inauguration, I didn't imagine I was the only guest. Apart from the ticking of the wall clock, a desolate silence reigned in the room.
I missed Jessica and Lisa.
Spencer told me that the housewarming party was three days ago, and that Lisa had the opportunity to play the piano as much as she wanted. Apparently, she had played Beethoven's fourteenth piano sonata, Spencer's favourite. She said he applauded as he praised her for her talent. I daydreamed of my daughter's smile.
I felt very lonely without them.
November 14, 1967
Spencer gave me a tour of the place. I gawked at the excessive splendour and extravagance of the decor. Paintings by Da Vinci, statues by Raphael... In one room there was a stone statue whose eyes were precious stones. In another, a row of medieval armour was paraded. It was all part of his private collection.
I questioned the reason for the traps.
November 18, 1967
No news from Jessica and Lisa.
I couldn't get in touch with them because the phone line had not been installed. I went to drink a coffee on the first floor veranda, where a host of crows had crept in, cawing non-stop.
Bad omen. I had the feeling that someone was watching me. I also saw something strange in the courtyard... Behind the artificial waterfall I discovered a staircase not incorporated into the original design.
Three men in white coats suddenly appeared. Who are you? Please don't waste our time, said one of them, as if scolding me, and led me away. His white coat gave off a faint smell of disinfectant. And who were they?
November 20, 1967
I lost my lighter.
My wife gave it to me for my birthday. I thought I left it in the room with the hunting rifle.
Someone stole it? Jessica and Lisa aren't coming back?
I was anxious...
Spencer laughed when I told him my concerns. I assured him that I couldn't stand it, that I would leave to be reunited with them.
November 21, 1967
I packed my things and said goodbye to Spencer. He followed me up to the first floor and went into one of the rooms.
After he disappeared, I came upon a man in a white dressing gown. He was looking at a painting.
He was one of the three men in the courtyard.
Life is long and yet so short, he whispered. Then he smiled and laughed. Something hit my head and I was knocked unconscious. November 24, 1967
Three days locked up. It's a matter of security, said the man in the white coat as he passed me a plate of raw food.
And it dawned on me. The only two people who knew all the secrets of the mansion were Spencer and me. If I died, Spencer would be the only one.
I had to escape, but I couldn't escape the traps I'd created myself! Things broke loose from the ceiling to fall on me. Spiders! I crushed several of them trying to escape.
November 27, 1967
I slipped out of the cell to face the reality of all the traps and mechanisms I had to memorise to get out of the damn mansion.
The tiger... The golden emblem... The golden emblem...
What was it all for?
November 30, 1967
No way out. Nothing mattered: no way out. A laboratory... a cave... and then a pair of high heels.
Jessica!
December 5, 1967
Thirsty and hungry.
Why?
December 7, 1967
All is dark... I'm trapped in a dank tunnel. A dead end?
I light my last match. I see a gravestone. And engraved on it, a name: George Trevor.
That's me, isn't it? Ironic. Strange sense of humour.
I've come full circle. It's no use. I can't get out. I feel my senses failing me... Jessica... Lisa...
Forgive me.
I'll join you soon.
George Trevor