Two days later.
The world hadn't stopped spinning, but for Samuel and Danny, it sure as hell felt like it should have. Two days since they'd banished a demon, and two days since they realized their YouTube ghost-hunting adventure might've just gotten them spiritually, psychologically, and cosmically wrecked. They started doubting every shadow or cat passing by. The entire world had flipped upside down for them.
They felt like life had just slapped them back for their stupidity—playing with forces they never believed in. Once upon a time, they'd laugh when people told horror stories. They'd binge horror movies like stand-up comedy, hurling popcorn and cackling like lunatics.
Now?
Now the silence felt loaded. Shadows stretched too far. Their own reflections sometimes made them flinch.
Neither of them had slept properly. Their gear sat untouched. The camera bag stayed zipped. Even their channel's page—once a source of daily dopamine hits—sat stale, unopened on either of their laptops.
They hadn't spoken much. Especially not about that night. Not about Maya. Not about the demon. Not about how close everything came to spiraling.
Worst of all was Danny's problem.
He hadn't told Samuel, but every time he had to pee, he swore he could hear the demon screaming in his head. The memory of its twisted screech as it dissolved into Hell's Gate was etched into his bladder. He started holding it in at night just to avoid closing his eyes—and now he was half-convinced he was one bad night away from a kidney stone.
But he'd never say that out loud. Not to Samuel. Not after the piss bottle thing.
"Kidney stone is better than getting roasted by that idiot," he muttered under his breath.
The living room of Samuel's tiny apartment had transformed into their bunker of denial. Curtains drawn. Lights off. A bowl of soggy cereal sat on the coffee table like it had been there since the first demon.
Danny slouched in his hoodie, eyes glazed over as he absentmindedly tossed a stress ball at the wall. Samuel sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the Hell Book like it might sprout legs and walk.
It felt like a hangover without the fun—just guilt, confusion, and fear they couldn't name. Like something was watching. Or waiting.
Danny broke the silence first. "I still feel like we forgot something back there."
Samuel didn't look away from the book. "Yeah. Sanity."
Danny gave a half-hearted laugh. "Among other things."
His voice didn't carry the usual sarcasm. It was distant, like he wasn't just answering—he was confessing. His leg bounced with nervous energy, and he chewed the inside of his cheek like it owed him money.
A long pause passed between them. Then Danny added, "Did she ever call?"
Samuel blinked. "Who?"
"Maya."
Samuel finally looked up. "We gave her our numbers. Both of them. She never called."
Danny nodded slowly. "Not like I care or anything."
Samuel tilted his head, watching him. "Don't lie. You miss her. You even baptized her with your nuclear piss. That's soulmate-level commitment."
Danny threw a pillow at him, face scrunching up in mock horror. "You said you'd stop bringing that up!"
Samuel caught it. "I lied."
They shared a laugh. It felt strange—too short. Like they weren't sure they deserved to laugh yet.
Then the Hell Book slid off the table and slammed to the floor.
They both jumped like they'd been electrocuted. Danny scrambled halfway off the couch, eyes wide.
"What the hell!"
Samuel's heart pounded. He stood slowly, cautiously. "It probably just... fell."
Danny didn't move. "Uh-huh. Sure. Books just commit suicide now."
Samuel bent down like the book might bite, lifted it, and gently placed it back on the table. He stared at it for a long beat.
Danny pulled his hoodie tighter, voice lower now. "What do we even do now?"
Samuel leaned back on the couch, defeated. "We were supposed to go viral. Demon house footage. Clicks. Collabs. Merch. Maybe even a Netflix pitch. This was supposed to be it."
He pointed vaguely at the Book. "Now we're broke, broken, and possibly cursed."
Danny's laughter was hollow. "Feels like we're back to square one. Except square one had less PTSD and more snacks."
He stood and walked toward the fridge, opening it and staring in. A moment passed.
"Dude," he said flatly. "You've been drinking my soda again?"
Samuel looked genuinely offended. "No. Why would I drink that sugar rot?"
Danny pulled out a half-warm can. "Because I've restocked this fridge three times this week. Three. I live here too, you know."
Samuel shrugged. "Maybe you're drinking them in your sleep."
Danny gave him a dead stare. "I'm installing a soda lock. Watch me."
Samuel grinned. "Right after you invent a demon-proof fridge, too."
Danny flopped back on the couch, cracking the can open with more force than necessary. "Anyway... we still owe Danish a report."
Samuel blinked. "Shit. Danish."
"Yeah. Technically, we did cleanse his house from the demon. We should bill him."
Samuel chuckled, but it felt heavy. "Should we tell him we exorcised the demon with your holy water?"
Danny raised his hand. "One more time, Sam. Say it one more time. I will end you."
Samuel laughed. "Okay, okay. No more pee jokes."
Danny pulled the camera from under the coffee table, slipping out the memory card. "Let's just check the footage. Maybe there's something we missed. Something we can show him. Maybe we can also see if we can do something with this!"
He slid it into the reader. The laptop screen flickered.
They sat shoulder to shoulder now, leaning in like nervous kids watching a horror film they regretted starting.
The footage loaded. It was all there—Samuel, Danny, then Samuel burning the clothes. Then glitch. Nothing else was recorded.
Danny panicked. He leaned forward, frowning. "Wait... where is she?"
But not Maya.
Samuel squinted. "Who?"
Danny rewound. "Maya. She's not in this. At all."
Samuel leaned closer. Frame by frame, they watched themselves yell into empty space. Talk to nobody. Protect nothing.
She was gone.
From all of it.
Samuel's skin crawled. "She's... she's not in the footage."
Danny sat back, pale. "That's not possible. She was there. We saw her. She spoke to us. I caught her when she collapsed. I felt her weight."
Samuel's voice was low, almost fearful. "Why couldn't the camera capture her?"
They stared at the screen. They were talking to air. Then they turned to look at the book.
Then they stared at each other. They didn't know what to say or think.
Then—
A voice.
"Hey guys."
They both jumped so hard Danny nearly fell off the couch.
Maya stood between them.
Holding a can of soda.
From their fridge.
Danny's eye twitched. He looked at Samuel. "So, it was not you who had been drinking my soda?"
Samuel opened his mouth. Closed it again. Slowly looked at Maya.
She smiled like nothing had happened.
"So..." she said brightly, "should we hunt more demons?"
To be continued...