Chapter 3 - The Locked RoomThe sentence haunted Elliot through the night.
He didn't sleep.
He sat beneath his blanket with a flashlight and listened to the house breathe.
Pipes groaned.
Rain struck the windows.
Floorboards creaked for no reason.
Sometimes he heard footsteps.
Sometimes he heard his mother's voice.
Sometimes he heard a woman crying.
At exactly 3:17 a.m., the entire house became silent.
Then someone knocked on Elliot's bedroom window.
He nearly screamed.
The window was on the second floor.
There was no balcony.
No tree.
Nothing outside except darkness.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Elliot slowly approached it.
A small handprint appeared on the glass.
Then another.
Then another.
Five tiny fingerprints.
Like a child's hand.
Elliot stepped back.
A child's face appeared outside.
A blonde girl.
Her skin was gray.
Her eyes were black.
She mouthed two words.
Help me.
Elliot reached for the window.
Before he could touch it, the face disappeared.
A second later, something slammed into the glass.
CRACK.
The window fractured.
Elliot fell backward.
From somewhere downstairs came his mother's scream.
This time it was real.
He knew it.
He ran.
The house's front door was locked.
Every window was locked.
The kitchen door wouldn't open.
He tried calling emergency services, but his mother's phone had no signal.
Then he noticed something.
The photograph.
The one from the kitchen.
A tiny symbol had appeared in the corner.
A black circle containing three lines.
Elliot had seen that symbol before.
On the basement door.
He had never been allowed downstairs.
His mother always said:
“There's nothing down there.”
Elliot grabbed a flashlight.
He opened the basement door.
Cold air rushed upward.
The stairs descended into darkness.
He moved down slowly.
At the bottom was a wall covered with photographs.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Children.
Men.
Women.
Some were crossed out.
Others had dates written underneath them.
Then Elliot saw his own photograph.
It was dated eleven years ago.
The day he was born.
His hands began to shake.
Beside it was a photograph of Claire holding a newborn baby.
Except something was wrong.
Claire wasn't alone.
Behind her stood the pale creature.
Its long fingers rested on the baby's head.
Elliot touched the photograph.
A voice whispered behind him.
“You finally came downstairs.”
He spun around.
Claire stood at the bottom of the stairs.
She looked exhausted.
There was blood on her sweater.
“Mom?”
She raised a finger to her lips.
“Quiet.”
Elliot ran toward her.
She grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Baby, listen to me. We have very little time.”
“Where were you?”
“Trying to keep it away from you.”
“What is it?”
Claire looked toward the basement wall.
“The thing that lives in this house.”
“Dad said you're not my mother.”
Claire's face went pale.
“You saw him?”
Elliot nodded.
She closed her eyes.
“My God.”
“Is he alive?”
“No.”
“But I saw him.”
“You saw what it remembers.”
Elliot didn't understand.
Claire took his face in her hands.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Never answer when it calls your name.”
A voice echoed from upstairs.
“Claire?”
She froze.
The voice was hers.
“Claire?”
Then another voice.
Elliot's voice.
“Mom?”
Claire's hands tightened around him.
“It knows we're here.”
The basement lights flickered.
A long shadow appeared across the ceiling.
Claire grabbed Elliot's hand.
“Run.”
They reached the stairs.
But the basement door slammed shut.
The shadow descended.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Claire pulled Elliot behind her.
The pale creature emerged from the darkness.
It looked at Claire.
Then at Elliot.
And smiled.
“You promised me the boy.”
Claire whispered:
“I changed my mind.”
The creature tilted its head.
“You always do.”
May you like
Then it said something that made Elliot's blood turn to ice.
“Just like you did eleven years ago.”
