Chapter 15
Heresy
I didn’t wanna admit it, but this goddamn house was starting to scare me. And I didn’t believe in all that ghost story shit. Still, there were way too many weird-ass things going on in here to just chalk it up to creaky floors or some busted-up pipes.
Salem, though? She was pacing around, eyes sharp like she was ready to fight the supernatural or whatever. But I could see it—that flicker of unease behind all that bravado. She was good at playing it cool, but I knew better. Hell, I was on edge too, and I wasn’t even the one obsessed with all this mystical crap.
“Think they left any beers from that party?” I muttered, nodding toward the kitchen. My throat was dry, and I needed something to take the edge off. “Could use somethin’ to wash down all this weirdness.”
She shot me a look, eyebrow raised like she couldn’t believe I was even thinking about beer right now. “A beer? During this shit?”
I shrugged. “Why the hell not? If we’re stuck in here, might as well find something to pass the time.”
We made our way to the kitchen, each step creaking like the damn floor was gonna give out beneath us. The whole place was ancient, like no one had touched a damn thing in years. Cobwebs were hanging from the ceiling like forgotten decorations, and the air was thick with that musty, rotten smell that clung to everything. But I wasn’t focused on that—I had one mission. An ice-cold beer.
I yanked open the old, creaky fridge door, half-expecting to find a six-pack or some expired leftovers.
Instead, we found doll heads.
Fucking doll heads. A pile of ‘em, just sitting there, their creepy little faces staring back at us with those dead, lifeless eyes. Some were missing chunks of hair, others had half their faces busted off, but they were all just there. Like some twisted art project no one wanted to claim.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I muttered, slamming the fridge door shut like that was gonna make it all disappear. “What the actual fuck?”
Salem stared at the fridge, her lips pressing into a tight line. “This has got to be the Heelz messing with me. No way in hell these just showed up.”
“Yeah, but how the hell did they get in without us hearing' ‘em?” I crossed my arms, eyeing' the fridge like it was about to sprout legs and come after us. “That ain’t exactly subtle.”
She shook her head, muttering under her breath. “Creepy shit never is.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Well, this creepy shit’s next level.”
Her jaw tightened, but she wasn’t backing down. “I’m not going anywhere,” she snapped, that familiar edge in her voice. “This is my initiation. I’m finishing it.”
Couldn’t say I liked it, but I wasn’t about to argue with her stubborn ass.
“Alright, fine,” I sighed. “Let’s see what other freaky ass shit we can find.”
We headed out of the kitchen, moving deeper into the house. Each room was worse than the last—dust everywhere, furniture draped in sheets like they were hiding from the world, and the air just felt... off. The place smelled like it had been sealed up and forgotten, like the walls were holding onto secrets no one should’ve found.
As we walked down the hall, we reached a room where the window was shattered, glass shards scattered across the floor. But that wasn’t what stopped me in my tracks.
The room was full of crows.
A murder of ‘em had flown in through the busted window, making a nest in the corner. Their beady little eyes locked onto us, and I swear they were watching—like they were waiting for something. Their caws echoed off the walls, and the sound crawled under my skin, grating at my nerves.
“Of course,” I muttered, glaring at the birds. “Fuckin’ birds.”
Salem stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “They’re just watching.”
“Yeah, well, I’m watchin' them too. Let’s keep movin'.”
We left the room and made our way down another hallway, eventually stumbling into a room packed with covered furniture. It looked like a goddamn maze—the sheets draped over old, forgotten tables and chairs like ghosts waiting to come to life. Narrow paths wound through the mess, and every instinct in me told me to get the hell out.
“This place is a fuckin’ dump,” I grumbled, my hand instinctively brushing the handle of my knife.
Then I saw it.
Blood.
It was dripping from the ceiling, slow and steady, landing on one of the covered tables. I froze, my heart thumping hard in my chest as I pointed it out. “Salem...”
She looked up, her face pale. “What the fuck?”
We stepped closer, moving cautiously. A dark stain was spreading across the ceiling, and thick, sticky drops of blood were oozing down like something out of a bad horror movie. It wasn’t from a pipe or a leak—there was no reason for it. No natural reason anyway.
“That... that ain't normal," I murmured, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“No shit,” Salem whispered, her eyes glued to the ceiling. “This place is seriously fucked.”
Suddenly, the flashlight flickered, plunging the room into complete darkness for a split second. When it flickered back on, the blood had stopped, but the stain remained—a dark, ominous mark above us.
“We need to get the hell outta here,” I said, my pulse still pounding in my ears.
And this time, I swear to God I heard it—this faint, whispering voice, coming from the shadows.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
We didn’t stick around to figure out who—or what—was whispering. We got the hell out of that room, fast.
But the house?
It wasn’t done with us yet.