(William's POV)
I couldn't shake the unease that had settled in my chest, a weight that seemed to grow heavier every day. The house felt wrong—too quiet, too still, like something was waiting. I couldn't pinpoint it, but I knew it was there. The air felt thick, charged, like the calm before a storm. And I knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before that storm hit.
Daniel was getting too close. I had to stop him from finding out. It wasn't just for his safety—it was for his sanity. What I had seen, what I had experienced, it wasn't something you could unsee. You couldn't unknow it. Once you knew, there was no turning back. I had learned that the hard way.
I had tried to bury it. Tried to forget the thing I had seen all those years ago in Hawthorne. But it was back now. I could feel it. The whispers, the cold, the sense of something lurking just beyond my vision. It had been silent for so long, but now it was awakening, and it was coming for us all.
I sat in the kitchen, staring at the cold cup of coffee in front of me, my fingers tapping idly against the ceramic. I couldn't stop thinking about the photo I had found in the basement earlier, the one from Hawthorne. The house in the background. The way the shadows seemed to move around the figures in the picture. I knew it was no coincidence. My father had been there too, and whatever had followed him back then had followed me, too. It had always been there, lurking in the corners of my mind, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke me out of my thoughts. I didn't need to look up to know it was Daniel. He had that way of moving, like he was always just a little too quiet, a little too eager to ask the questions I didn't want to answer. He was getting too curious about things he didn't understand.
"Hey," Daniel said, his voice cautious as he stepped into the kitchen. "You okay? You've been acting… off lately."
I didn't know how to respond. The truth was, I wasn't okay. But how could I explain to him that there was something in this house, something in our family, that had been stalking us for years? How could I tell him that I had seen it—that I had felt it, felt its presence in the dark corners of my mind? How could I protect him from something that couldn't be explained?
"I'm fine," I said, trying to sound casual. "Just tired, you know?"
Daniel gave me a look that told me he didn't buy it. But instead of pushing, he just nodded. "If you say so. I just… I don't know, man. You've been shutting me out."
He was right. I had been shutting him out. I couldn't help it. The more he asked, the more I realized how much danger he was in, and the more I wanted to protect him from the truth. But how could I protect him if I couldn't even protect myself?
I stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back with more force than I intended. "I'm fine, really. Just… just drop it."
I could see the hurt in his eyes, the frustration. But he didn't say anything. He just turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The house felt colder after he left. The silence was suffocating, and for a moment, I thought I could hear something—something faint, like whispers at the edge of my hearing. But when I focused, it was gone.
I couldn't stay here. Not tonight. I needed to clear my head, to get away from everything. The basement had always been a place where I could think, a place where I could try to make sense of things that didn't make sense. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the stairs.
The basement door creaked as I opened it, the chill of the air greeting me like an old friend. I hesitated, my hand resting on the doorknob, but something inside me urged me to go down. I needed to see it again. I needed to know if it was still there, still watching, still waiting.
The stairs groaned under my weight as I descended into the darkness. My breath misted in front of me, the cold pressing in from all sides. The basement was silent, too silent, and for a moment, I wondered if I had imagined the whispers earlier. But as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw it.
The figure.
It was standing in the far corner, just out of reach of the flickering light. Its shape was indistinct, blurred by the shadows, but I could feel it. I could feel its eyes on me, its presence pressing in, suffocating me. My heart raced in my chest as I tried to move, tried to back away, but my feet were rooted to the floor. I couldn't look away.
And then, it moved.
A step forward, then another. I could hear the faint rustling of something, like clothes brushing against the air, but there was no sound of footsteps. Just the rustle, like the thing was gliding, floating toward me. My breath caught in my throat as it reached out a hand.
"William…"
It wasn't a voice. Not really. It was more like a thought, a sensation that echoed in my mind. A command. A promise. I felt its power, its grip on me, and I knew, deep down, that it wasn't done yet.
I snapped out of my trance, my body moving on its own as I turned and ran. I didn't look back. I couldn't. I didn't want to see what it would do next. I slammed the basement door behind me, my heart pounding in my ears as I leaned against the wall, gasping for air.
It was still there. I could feel it. I knew it was still watching me.
I staggered to my room, locking the door behind me, but the fear wouldn't leave. It never left. The message was clear. It was coming. It had always been coming.
And now, it was coming for Daniel too.
I needed to protect him. But how? How could I protect him from something that couldn't be stopped?
Just then, my phone buzzed, breaking through the thoughts that spiraled in my head. I grabbed it, my hands shaking, and saw a message.
"Hawthorne. It's time."
I didn't know who sent it. I didn't know who could've known. But I knew one thing: the time was coming. And when it came, there would be no stopping it.