Chapter 21
Lying on the bed, I stare blankly up at the dark ceiling, watching the tree’s outside cast eerie shadows over every surface, rain patting on the boarded up window.
I feel completely numb and fragile.
I don’t know how long it’s been since the bathroom scenario.
Blinking, I drag myself upright, the blanket sliding off my body, and my bare feet meet the floorboards as I move quietly around the bed.
Suddenly, a slow shiver creeps up my spine, like an unseen fingertip tracing the bone, and I stop.
The air changes to freezing cold, turning heavy enough to taste.
Something’s here again and it’s watching me.
My gaze drifts over my shoulder, drawn to the mirrored wall at the back of the room. The reflection quivers in the dim light, warped by shadow. But nothing moves.
I’m starting to think I’ve lost my mind, and the trauma in me has finally dragged its way to the surface, pouring through the fractures I tried so hard to seal.
Maybe this is what madness feels like… when grief turns to darkness, and memory becomes a haunting.
I stand, trying to shake off the unease, and turn toward the boarded window, a pull in my chest, quiet but insistent, urging me closer.
Through the splintered gaps, the night stares back—thick rain slashing through the black. My gaze snags on something shifting in the tree line—figures moving between the shadows, their shapes blurred.
At first, I think it’s a trick of my mind again, another mirage conjured by exhaustion and fear. But then I see them more clearly—bodies drifting aimlessly through the mud, like puppets cut loose from their strings.
I lean closer, fingers trembling as they grip the rotting planks, heart hammering in my throat, and for a second, I can almost convince myself they don’t see me.
Then, all at once, they stop, every single one of them.
Their heads jerk up in perfect sync, eyes black and hollow, snapping toward me through the storm. Their necks bend at impossible angles, bones creaking even from here.
My vision tunnels, and I stumble back from the window, the sound of the rain now drowned out by the thundering of my own heart.
I stand there, chest heaving, lungs scraping for oxygen that doesn’t seem to fill them.
“Krool…” The name slithers from my tongue before I can stop it—a call, a mistake.
Then a voice, low, his and unholy, weaves through the dark.
“Come to me… come for me…”
“Where are you?” I whisper, though I’m not sure why I’m answering.
Suddenly, the door behind me creaks open, and I flinch so hard my body jerks, spinning around with my heart in my throat.
First, a tiny, pale hand sneaks around the edge of the door. Then a small strange, warped figure slowly peeks around it—one large, glossy black eye staring at me from a distorted, childlike face.
“Mommy…” it whispers in a sweet, innocent voice that doesn’t match its twisted form. “Can you tuck me in bed?”
My heart stops dead in my chest, my mind spinning rapidly, trying to make sense of the strange being standing in front of me.
It lets out a soft, unhinged giggle, high-pitched and menacing, before darting back behind the door and vanishing.
I stand stiff, wheezing, every nerve screaming at me to get the fuck out of here.
Without warning, from somewhere deeper in the house, a baby’s scream rips through the silence, shrill and agonized, like it’s being hurt.
My stomach plummets, and a sick, primal maternal instinct surges through me despite everything, pulling me forward before I can think.
I rush toward the door, bare feet slapping against the cold, filthy floor, and swing it open.
Bursting into the dark hallway, I follow the sound of the tortured crying. The jarring wails roaring through the labyrinth of corridors, dragging me deeper like a cruel siren call.
I round a sharp corner, but skid to a sudden halt.
The crying has stopped, and quiet swallows the house once more.
Spinning around wildly, eyes darting in every direction, I turn again and again, spinning in frantic circles, the walls blurring around me.
In my dizziness, I catch only a fleeting glimpse of a tall, black figure standing motionless at the far end of the hallway—those pitch-black eyes locked directly onto me.
The world whirls as I flop hard against the wall, sliding down until I’m half-collapsed, the corridor twisting and warping around me.
“What do you want from me?!” I yell towards him.
“Everything,” Krool’s deep, hungry whisper slips through the darkness, wrapping around my mind like his cold shadows. “Now run, little light. I want to see what fear leaves behind when I strip you down to nothing.”