Chapter 12 - The Bleeding Dollhouse
Ricardo spun around from the upside-down living room floor, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The miniature wooden dollhouse sat on the pristine white rug, its tiny white walls now stained with dark, viscous trails of blood leaking from every window and door seam. The metallic, coppery scent of the liquid filled the air, thick and suffocating.
Sitting right beside the bleeding toy was eight-year-old Leo, looking pale and exhausted, his navy blue suit jacket stained with dirt. The boy was staring down at his own small hands, completely motionless, as if he had been frozen in time.
"Leo!" Ricardo gasped, crawling across the floor and pulling the boy tightly into his arms. "Leo, are you real? Talk to me!"
Leo slowly raised his head, his brown eyes bright, clear, and filled with genuine, human tears—not the hollow void Ricardo had seen upstairs. The boy wrapped his small arms around Ricardo’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder with a soft, shuddering sob.
"Dad... I was so scared," Leo whispered, his voice trembling naturally. "She locked me in the dark box under the floorboards. She told me you weren't coming back."
"I'm here. I'm right here," Ricardo murmured fiercely, holding his son as tightly as he could, vowing to tear this cursed building down to its foundation.
Footsteps echoed from the ceiling above them. The heavy, rhythmic sound of a woman’s high heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was moving toward the floating staircase, heading straight down toward the living room.
Ricardo stood up, scooping Leo into his arms and shielding the boy behind his broad frame. He stared up at the architectural staircase as the lighting flickered from bright modern white to a sickly, jaundiced yellow, then back again.
Elena appeared at the top of the stairs. Her maroon dress was immaculate, her diamond necklace catching the recessed lighting, but her expression was no longer human. Her skin was pale, graying at the edges, and her eyes burned with an unnatural, hungry fire.
"You can't take him, Ricardo," Elena said, her voice dripping with venom as she began to descend the steps one by one. "The house has already accepted his name in the ledger. He belongs to the walls now."
"Stay away from us!" Ricardo yelled, backing toward the front door, which miraculously remained shut and locked.
Elena stopped halfway down the staircase, tilting her head at an impossible angle. She raised her right hand, and the front door behind Ricardo suddenly began to turn its deadbolt on its own, clicking open to reveal an endless, blinding white void outside.
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"You can run all you want," Elena whispered, smiling as the floor beneath Ricardo’s feet began to dissolve into dust. "But the foundation is built on your blood."
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