Spencer led me through the dense trees until we arrived at a sizable house, nestled in the heart of the forest. Its once-grand façade was now marred by graffiti and shattered windows, giving it an eerie, abandoned aura.
“What is this place?” I asked, peering at the imposing structure that loomed before us like a forgotten relic.
“It’s the old packhouse,” she replied, her voice a mix of nostalgia and excitement. “Before they built the new one. It’s been vacant ever since, but surprisingly, it’s still fully furnished.”
“And the music inside?” I inquired, my curiosity piqued.
“Oh, this place has hosted countless parties,” she grinned. “Kids love it here.”
With that, we stepped inside, and the atmosphere instantly transformed. A DJ booth was set up in one corner, pulsating with rhythm as
