Chapter 11 - The Dying Light
The beam of Mark’s smartphone flashlight flickered erratically as the battery icon flashed a bright, warning red in the corner of the screen—five percent remaining. The sudden loss of the ambient gray light from the high windows plunged the cellar into a suffocating, ink-black void where only the immediate circle of LED light offered any orientation.
"Daddy, I'm scared," Lily whispered, her small arms tightening around Mark’s neck so hard it cut off his air supply.
"Hold on to me, Lily. Don't let go, no matter what happens," Mark replied, his voice strained as he kept his eyes locked on the space where Sarah and Abigail had been standing just seconds before.
The flashlight beam cut through the freezing fog, illuminating the spot by the washing machine. It was completely empty. The floor was covered in a thick layer of frost, but the two figures had vanished into the darkness.
Mark began to inch his way cautiously toward the wooden stairs, his boots crunching softly on the frozen concrete. Every instinct screamed that something was waiting for him in the shadows just beyond the reach of his dying light. He took three measured steps, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of bare feet on concrete circled them in the dark, moving with impossible speed, darting just outside the perimeter of the flashlight beam.
"Mark..." Sarah’s voice echoed softly from the darkness behind him, right near the base of the stairs. "Why are you running from us? We only want to tuck you in."
Mark spun around, sweeping the flashlight beam toward the stairs. Sarah was standing at the bottom landing, her white satin blouse stained with dark water, her milky white eyes reflecting the harsh white glare of the LED light. But she wasn't alone. Standing right beside her, holding her hand, was another figure—a tall, shadowy man in a dark polo shirt that looked identical to the one Mark was wearing.
Mark stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as the man slowly turned his head to reveal Mark’s own face, distorted by the same blank, milky gaze and the dark water leaking from his lips.
"You're already down here, Mark," the duplicate man spoke with Mark’s exact voice, carrying the same haunting echo. "You just haven't realized that the house finished building itself around you years ago."
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With a sudden, sharp click, the smartphone screen flickered once and went completely black, plunging them into total, impenetrable darkness.
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