#horrorseptics

He hoped she was okay. She didn’t deserve any of this. Neither did Mathew and Larkin.

“When did you get so attached?”

His head jerked up at the sound of the voice, a muscle in his neck spasming and causing him to cry out in pain. But still, he looked around. Who said that? His eye scanned the bottom of this ditch. All he could really see was trash: stomped-on fast food cups and rain-stained torn posters. A glint of light caught his gaze, but it was only broken glass from a green bottle.

Should he... call out? It couldn’t hurt at this point, right? “Hhh... heh...” He coughed. It was hard to talk. His voice scratched at his throat, like he’d been screaming for hours, and it felt like the sides of his esophagus were sticking together, dry and thirsty. And besides those normal-ish sensations, there was... something else. It felt like... food in his throat. Like something was just... sitting there. Inside his neck. But when he swallowed, nothing went down. It just stayed there. Inside his neck. Inside his body.

He shuddered. Now that he was paying attention to his body, there was something... off. About himself. He could no longer see out of one of his eyes—the one he used to wear the eye-patch over, which was sort of morbidly ironic but also made sense, considering why he covered that up in the first place. There were aches and pains all over, but that made sense, considering... the last thing he remembered doing. But other than that, there was a... scraping feeling. No, wait, that was too violent. It was hard to describe. It was like the sound of two balloons rubbing against each other, or the feeling of putting your hand into a tight gap. But... inside.

Thinking about this made him want to throw up. Or maybe that was just another strange feeling in his stomach, a sour feeling, like turning the scent of burned fruit into an interior sensation. He curled up, trying to breathe through it all, feeling his sternum ache with every inhale. He told himself it was fine, but he didn’t believe it.

He wheezed quietly, his voice unable to really work. But inside his head, he was pleading. To who, he didn’t really know. He just wanted this to be over. Please. Please. Please let it be over.

...

...

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much, as the sky above looked more or less the same. His distressed tired him out, and after a while, his mind fell into a dull daze, his attention only briefly flaring when something strange happened. And even those alerts became farther and farther apart as he got used to the feelings within him and the noises around him. Birds, occasionally. Mostly the whooshing of cars passing by on the road up above. A couple times there were footsteps or voices, but he couldn’t really understand what they were saying.

Until...

A gravelly, slithery sound caught his attention, followed by a couple small clatters. Those sounds were... close by. They perked his thoughts, but not enough for him to raise his head. He stayed where he is, now struggling to listen, trying to ignore the temptation to fall back into that easy daze.

Crunch. Crunch.

The sounds approached now, slowly. Then paused. There was some scraping, slithery sounds, and then the sounds resumed. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Until they stopped right next to him.

He waited.

Something... poked his arm.

“Hey.”

A voice. Not the same one as before, that one was... hard to describe. This one is easy to describe. Female, though on the deeper end for a feminine voice, and... young?

“Hey. I see you breathing.” Something poked him again. “Are you awake?” Poke again. “D’you need, uh, something?”

He struggled out of that daze, pushing it away. Like forcing himself awake from a dream. Slowly, he moved his head, turning and lifting until his non-blind eye could see what was going on.

There was someone standing above him. He half-expected some sort of authority figure, like a paramedic or a police officer, but instead, the ‘someone’ was a teenage girl. Her frizzy blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and held in place by a black beanie. A yellow shirt with a faded graphic design was pulled on over a white long-sleeved shirt, its cuffs and elbows stained from dirt. She had a blue backpack on her back and a black hoodie around her waist, baggy jeans with rips in the knees tucked into old snow boots that were completely inappropriate for the snow-less day. “Oh good, you are alive,” she commented.

He blinked up at her. What is this. Why is this happening.

“Can you walk?” Something poked him again... and he realized it was a stick. That the girl was holding. She was poking him with a stick. For some reason, despite everything he’d been through, this felt like a new low point. “Cause if you can, you probably should. I saw a couple ladies park and look at you from the road. Then they got on their phones and drove off. I think they called fucking... corpse removal, or whoever gets rid of dead bodies. I dunno.”

He tried to say “I’m not dead,” but all that came out was a weak “hai—” and then a wheeze and a cough.

“Oh okay.” The girl tilted her head. “Are you like... hurt? Do you need support? I can get you out of this ditch, at least.”

“Nnhh—” He coughed again.

“...yeah, I can get you out of here,” the girl said decisively. She put the stick through the sleeve of the hoodie tied around her waist, keeping it close, then bent over and offered her hand to him.

He didn’t really want to take that hand. He didn’t want to put this random girl in danger. The creature had already proven it was willing to attack kids younger than her, as it had targeted Mathew, and hadn’t hesitated to go after Larkin, too, when he got in the way. Wouldn’t it be better to just... stay here?

But... that would be giving up, wouldn’t it? That would be letting it win.

After a moment, he uncurled one arm and reached up to her hand. His arm trembled, this small exertion feeling difficult. In the process, he spotted rusty red stains on his sleeve. That brought the memories back, and he froze just before taking the girl’s hand. No, no, this was a bad idea, he didn’t want to hurt her, he could hurt her, he knew it wouldn’t be his fault but it would hurt her and by letting her make contact with him he’d be allowing that to happen—

“There we go.” The girl reached forward and grabbed his wrist, heaving him backwards. He cried out as she pulled him into a sitting position, his muscles crying out at the motion. They ached after being tense and curled up for so long. “Whoa!” The girl let go of him and stepped backwards. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Ih fye...” he rasped, trying to reassure her it was fine. It wasn’t her fault.

“Alright...” The girl said slowly. “Uh...” She hesitated, then held out her hand again. “Here. Lemme get you out of here.”

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. As worried as he was about this girl getting hurt, he couldn’t do anything while stuck in a ditch. And he didn’t think he could stand on his own, since he couldn’t even sit up by himself. Ugh... what is this? This was more than just exhaustion, more than just lying in one place for too long. Something was... happening. His green eye... it felt strange when he blinked it.

“..oooookay, grab the hand, then,” the girl prompted.

He snapped out of his own thoughts and took her hand.

Standing up caused his legs to ache, as expected. And getting out of the ditch proved difficult. Its sides were too steep for his weak legs to climb up, and he ended up falling forward onto his hands a couple times. The girl helpfully got him to his feet each time this happened, and generally served as a solid support to lean on. He felt a bit bad for relying on her so much. She was a kid, she shouldn’t have to be dealing with his bullshit. But he was grateful she did.

They reached level ground soon, and he stood there, gasping for breath. The girl watched him, her head tilted to the side. “You alright?”

“Yeh...” he said, despite not really feeling alright at all. He looked around, taking in their surroundings. The ditch was on the inside bend of a road that curved gently around it. The area had some buildings. He could see houses in the distance, but the buildings right around here looked more... utilitarian? Dirty walls, mostly concrete and brick, with flat roofs and signs that he couldn’t concentrate enough to read. A car passed by on the road and he watched it go, making brief eye contact with the driver, a man who narrowed his eyes quizzically as he drove past.

“Cool.” The girl nodded. “Uh... do you... need... anything?”

He folded his arms, hunching his shoulders forward. In the process, he glanced down at his clothes, and spotted those same rusty stains all down his front. He shivered. There were a lot of things he needed, but he wasn’t sure he could have them.

“Hm.” The girl stared at him for a moment. Then she took off her backpack. She unzipped a side pocket and took out a reusable metal water bottle, blue with a dent on one side. “Here, you want some of my water?”

“Wh...?” He blinked, surprised.

“Yeah, you sound, uh... parched.” The girl held it out towards him. “It’s okay, I’m not sick or anything. Just don’t put your mouth on it, I don’t know if you’re sick.”

He wanted to explain that he wasn’t sick, but... well, he didn’t actually know if that was true. If he had caught a cold or some other disease, would it even manifest? Or would the creature suppress his symptoms somehow? Then he realized he was spending an awkwardly long time staring at this girl without saying anything. He mumbled a “th’nks” and took the water bottle, unscrewing the cap and tilting it back. As requested, he held it away from his mouth. He immediately knew that one drink wouldn’t be enough to soothe his thirst, but he didn’t want to take all of this girl’s water, so he stopped pretty quickly and handed it back to her.

“Thanks,” the girl said, screwing the top back on. She glanced at him, looking him up and down. “Sooo... do you need anything else?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wh... why ‘re you... stayin’ here?” he asked, finally managing to form some mostly-coherent words. “You don’... know me. It coul’ be dang’rous.”

“Yeah, I guess it could be,” the girl said with a shrug. “But like... the fact that you said that means you’re aware, which means you’re either not dangerous, or you’re playing the long game, and I don’t have time for that shit. So helping you out in the short run is fine.”

He frowned. “You shoul’... uh... leave.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I guess. God forbid someone have a heart out here.”

“I-I didn’ me—”

“I know you didn’t.” She took a step back, raising her hands. “But seriously. You don’t seem...” She trailed off. “Hey. Uh. Do you... have a place to stay?”

He stayed quiet.

“Hm.” She frowned. “Look. There’s a place I’m staying with a couple other people. It’s not much, but we have water there. And beds. Want me to show you the way?”

He blinked, considering that. It would be nice... but...

The screams of those young people in the van flashed through his mind.

No. No, he’d better not.

“It’s... back this way.” The girl started walking backwards, following the curve of the road. “Do you want to come check it out?”

He gave her a small, polite smile. “N—”

And then he stumbled forward, his legs moving on their own.

His heart froze, then started pounding faster. No. No no no no, if it wanted to go with this girl, then he couldn’t let it do that. The creature was going to hurt her, and probably whatever people she was staying with, and he couldn’t let that happen again! He had to stop it, he had to take control of his body again—

“You still think it’s your body?”

That voice. It was the same one he’d heard while lying in the ditch by himself. And now, he recognized it. Though hearing it just caused him to panic more.

Why did it sound like him?

He thought he knew why. But he didn’t want to put that feeling into words. Even thinking it seemed bad, like it would make it too real.

While he was panicking in his own mind, his body was moving on its own, staggering after the girl. She gave him a hesitant smile and continued walking forward, glancing back over her shoulder at him occasionally. He spotted her hand go into her jeans pocket, seemingly holding something there. Probably a weapon of some kind. He was glad that she didn’t fully trust him; he wasn’t someone to be trusted, not in his current state. Maybe... not ever again.

* * * * * * * * * *

The girl led him further into this utilitarian area. The buildings grew closer together around them, many of them with boarded-up windows or covered in spray-painted graffiti. Clearly, this was a run-down part of whatever city they were in. He was very familiar with these sorts of areas.

“Okay. Here we are.” The girl stopped outside a particular old-looking shop, its faded sign reading Jay Boutiques in a green font. She glanced up at the sign, then at the boarded-up windows, then at the door, then back at him. “Hey, uh, d’you mind waiting outside for a bit? I just gotta clear you with the others.”

He nodded slowly, taking a step backwards.

“Great.” She smiled. “Uh, even if you’re not allowed in, I can probably get you something if you want. Just stick around for a bit.” She grabbed the front door handle and pulled it, heaving backwards. The door scraped across the sidewalk; it was clearly broken in some way, but it looked tough, its glass front covered with newspapers and planks of wood. The girl gave him a faint smile and walked through, pulling the door closed behind her.

He stood outside, folding his arms, looking around the street. It was empty except for him. He should get out of here. No one would know where he went. No one would remember him once he was gone; they never did. Except for Stacy. But that was probably only because she was involved with this world somehow. Then again... Mark didn’t remember him. But maybe Mark was different. He knew him before that thing took over his life, while he met Stacy later. In any case, if he hurried away now, that girl would be safe, and she’d forget she ever saw him soon.

But his legs still wouldn’t move. No matter how much he focused on them, staring across the street, hoping to run across the road and away from all this, they stayed rooted to the ground. He felt a strange shiver going down them, like a drop of water trailing down his skin. Only it wasn’t on his skin. It felt more like it was going down his bones. He shuddered at the feeling.

The door opened again, and the girl stumbled forward. It seemed like she shoved her shoulder against the bar on the inside to get it to open. She glanced around, spotting him easily. “Hey. Come on in.” She pushed the door open further, holding it ajar expectantly.

He nodded at her slowly. And against his will, he stumbled forward through the door.

The shop space beyond was mostly bare, empty of furniture except for a couple mattresses, a counter attached to the ground, and a few cardboard boxes. The corner behind the counter was piled high with various packaged foods, including a case of bottled water that his eyes couldn’t help but linger on. A handful of people stood inside, gathered in a tight group. They stared at him, looking a bit wary.

“This is the guy I found,” the girl said, gesturing at him. “Uh...” She glanced at him. “What’s your name?”

“Jesus, Phoebe, you didn’t even ask his name?” one of the other people said, raising his eyebrow.

“And you want to bring this guy in?” Another one asked. Her eyes darted up and down. “How do you know that blood came from him?”

“Well we outnumber him, so it’ll probably be fine.” The man who said that was quite tall and tough-looking. While that guy probably could take him just by himself, the truth was that it was a lot more vicious than a normal person. It could probably take all of these people, considering...

“Don’t say that in front of him!” the first person hissed.

“It’s... fine...” he said haltingly. “All of it. It’s... fine.” He paused. “I’m... John. Just... John.”

“John!” said the girl cheerfully. “Good, names all around. I’m Phoebe, as you heard Fred say. That’s Xio and Joshua, and the quiet ones are Gwen and Soren.” All of the people waved. “So. Now we all know each other.” The girl—Phoebe—looked at the others. “Is it okay if he stays, then?”

The others muttered among themselves, and John folded his arms, hunching forward. He probably looked suspicious. They didn’t seem too happy that he was here. Good. Maybe they would kick him out. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about—

“I guess,” one of the group finally said. She sighed. “But you know the rules, Phoebe. We don’t want another Abagail or Kaspar situation.”

“Especially given how this guy looks,” another muttered.

“Yeah, of course!” Phoebe nodded. “Don’t worry, John here is good. I can tell.”

John wanted to laugh darkly at that. But the sound didn’t even touch his vocal cords, remaining solely in his head.

“Here, c’mon, I’ll show you around, John.” Phoebe reached out and poked him, his head turning to look at her. “Not that there’s much to see.”

Indeed, there wasn’t. They had a few mattresses and blankets that served as beds, and that stockpile of food and water in the corner. Besides the main floor, the only other rooms in the old shop were a bathroom (it didn’t seem to have running water) and another room to the side that was probably the shop’s storage or employee break room while this place was functional. Now it was empty, though, except for a few old shelves bolted to the walls and a couple beanbags that were leaking their contents onto the ground.

“Here, you were thirsty earlier, weren’t you?” Phoebe dragged him by his hand over to the food in the corner. “Grab one of ours. Then we don’t have to worry about diseases.” She reached into the plastic packaging and wrenched a clear water bottle free, holding it out to John.

“Thanks,” John muttered, taking the water. He twisted off the plastic cap. It made a cracking sound in the process, and he winced slightly. On the walk here, he could’ve sworn that his spine was making a similar sound. Though it was something that he felt more than heard. He hurriedly took a drink before he could think too much about his body again, leaning back against the counter as he gulped down the contents of the bottle. The water tasted faintly chemical-y, clearly not from one of the higher-quality bottled water companies, but it still quenched his thirst.

“So... why’re you covered in a bunch of suspicious stains?” Phoebe asked casually. “Like, I believe you were injured or you got in a fight or something. But it looks hella suspicious, and I think we’d all like an explanation.”

John almost choked in surprise.

“Why don’t you tell them the truth? Why don’t you tell them what you did? What you will do again?” That same voice seemed to whisper right into his mind.

He tried to ignore it, lowering the bottle and looking at it, his eye scanning the ridges on the side. “It... it was a fight,” he said quietly. “I won, but... some of it’s probably my blood, too.”

“Okay...” Phoebe nodded. “What sort of fight? Like, why did it happen?”

What... what was a non-suspicious way to put it? Because even though he wanted to leave this place so these people wouldn’t get hurt, he didn’t want to start a fight with them. That was probably what it wanted. More bloodshed. “I was... being kept in their house,” John said quietly. “And I-I fought my way out.” That was true, on both accounts. He didn’t have to say that those four were justified.

“Fuck, dude.” Phoebe’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He glanced back at the rest of this group. They’d settled down, more or less, sitting on the boxes or the mattresses, chatting with each other. Two were playing a card game. One was charging their phone, using a portable battery since this place didn’t seem to have power. Though they occasionally glanced over at him, keeping an eye on what he was doing, they’d basically accepted that he was here. “What... what’re you all doing here?”

“Eh. Different things.” Phoebe shrugged. “My mom kicked me out. Soren and Gwen got evicted. Fred’s last partner was a scumbag who stole his money. Xio’s always had a generally tough time. And I think Josh is running from something but he won’t say what. Different things. We all just kinda... ended up together.”

“I see...” John said slowly. “So you’re not... friends? Or... a team or anything?”

“A team? What, like we’re the world’s poorest Power Rangers?” Phoebe laughed. “I mean... I guess we’re friends? It’s a lot more complicated than that.” She shrugged. “Anyway... you don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. But you can. If you want. And if you’re not an asshole. We’ve had a couple of those.”

John nodded quietly. He appreciated that there was no pressure to stay or leave, and that it was left up to him. But it didn’t matter anyway. Whenever he thought about leaving, his legs locked up.

“Do you need... any medical supplies or anything?” Phoebe asked. “We don’t have much, but we have a first aid kit.”

“I-I don’t know,” John said. “I haven’t really... um... taken stock of things? Going on in my, uh... b-body.” That was a lie. He couldn’t forget about the strange feelings in his body, the way everything felt so wrong inside him. But he truthfully didn’t know if he was injured from that fight. He was pretty sure he’d gotten stabbed at one point, but he didn’t feel it anymore.

“If you want to check things out, the first aid kit is in the bathroom,” Phoebe said. “The door locks. And you can use the bucket of water to try and clean up.”

“Yeah... I-I’ll do that,” John muttered. “Thanks.” He set the bottle of water down on the counter and headed towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Dim gray light came through the single dirty window high up on the wall. It was enough to see by, but it still left the corners in shadows. It would probably be pretty difficult to navigate this space when it was night, especially compared to the shop floor. While the windows there were boarded up, there were a lot more of them. He spotted the first aid kit easily, since it was just sitting on the ground beneath the pedestal sink. As he bent over to grab it, he winced, hearing and feeling his spine crack in that unnatural way. But trying to ignore it, he set the first aid kit in the sink... and looked up into the mirror.

He looked fucking awful.

No, more than that. He looked frightening.

John stared at his reflection, blinking slowly as he took in all the details. The rust-colored stains covered his shirt and jacket, splatters straight out of a slasher movie. His face was gaunt, cheeks sunken in, and even his wild hair had red crusted into it. His normal blue eye was sunken in, a hollow look to it, but his other eye, the green-sclera’d dark-iris’d one, bulged out... a small wire trailing from the inner corner, running alongside his nose. How had that Phoebe girl felt safe enough to approach him, let alone invite him to this temporary home? Why had none of the people in here cried out in fear and demanded he left them right away?

As he stared, he eventually spotted something. His neck was... moving. And not in the way it was supposed to move, in accordance with his breathing and swallowing. Beneath the bandages he always wore around his throat, something was shifting about. His breath hitched as he saw it, single blue eye tracking its movement.

Slowly, against his will, one of his hands reached up, pulling the bandages downwards, revealing the flesh beneath. The scar that he had across his neck had burst open and started to bleed again. He stared in horror as the blood trickled down his neck and fingers... stared at the way his skin was moving. Something beneath it was causing the wound on his throat to open and close, widen and narrow. At its widest, he caught a glimpse of something dark inside, and something else that glinted.

“It’s wonderful.”

He yelped in shock as that voice spoke again. His cry echoed, bouncing across the tiles. But the voice hadn’t echoed. Because it wasn’t coming from around him. It was something he was hearing purely in his head. And registering that, the thought he’d tried to avoid before became fully formed. “Y... you...” he breathed. “žŦń¢ïð.”

For a second, his reflection smiled at him, a wide stretch of teeth that wasn’t his.

“Wonderful...” He repeated vaguely, looking at the wound on his neck again. Before he then quickly covered it up again, retying the bandages, securing them in place.

“You understood me. Good.”

“Wh-what are you trying to tell me?” he muttered. “Why can I understand you so... clearly now?”

“Because we’re growing closer. You will be me, and you will be gone. It’s not long now. Not long at all.”

“Wh-why?” he whispered. “Why me? Why do you want to... do this to me?”

“I’m sick of being trapped outside this world. I love infecting your ways of speaking, but it’s so... limiting. To not be able to roam about. I want to do both.”

He felt dizzy, an ache consuming the side of his head, pulsing. He leaned forward, gripping the sides of the sink. “But why me?”

“Because you got out,” it whispered. “Nobody else had before you. Not without becoming mine first. Of course, you’re still m̀͢i͢͡ǹ͠e͝͏. Leaving doesn’t change that. But if I change you out there, if I shape you out there... you could be me. I could be out there. I could do wh̢a̴tever ̶I ̧w̕ant͟.”

Sickness roiled in his stomach. Balancing felt difficult. His skin crawled, and he could’ve sworn he felt something writhing beneath it. “And... what will happen to me? Will I... still be... here?”

“In my body? I’m not sure. This has never happened before. But even if you are still there, you know you won’t be able to stop me.” It laughed, the sound traveling from one of his ears to another. “You should hope to die. It’ll be easier.”

Those words made his stomach sink. But he took a shuddery breath and pushed himself straight upright, staring into his reflection. “If you’re the one saying that... I-I’ll hope for the opposite. I-I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

“So stubborn. How wonderful. After all, that’s what got you out. That’s what caused all this. Thank you for that.”

He stared into the mirror, but heard nothing else from its voice. Dread pooled within him. Was he playing into this creature’s hands? Would it... be better to...?

...no. That would never be better.

John took a deep breath. He looked down at the first aid kit, then further down, to the bucket of water next to the sink, a plastic cup next to it in turn. No running water here, so they gathered what they could. He should... at least try to wash up.

He should at least try.

* * * * * * * * * *

John ended up using a lot of the water, trying to clean the crusted red on his clothes. He felt a bit bad about that. Even more so when he used up a whole roll of bandages to treat his stab wound from the fight, re-wrap his neck bandages, and hide his eye—or... its eye, at this point. Water and medical supplies were valuable; he knew this from experience. But he really did need all this. In the end, though he was able to clean his hair and skin, his clothes were still a bit stained. He probably could’ve gotten the stains out if he had the right tools, but he didn’t, so he gave up.

After he left the bathroom, he tried to slink towards the store’s front door and head out, but halfway there, his legs stopped moving. He stumbled forward from the sudden unexpected freezing, falling to the floor. “Whoa!” a voice gasped. A couple sets of footsteps hurried towards him, and he pushed himself to his knees. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” John stammered, glancing over at the pair that had hurried towards him. A redheaded man and a girl with a long brown ponytail. He couldn’t remember their names.

“Are you sure?” The girl asked.

“Yeah, you really just... landed,” the man added. “You didn’t catch yourself or anything.”

“I’m fine,” John insisted. He leaned back onto his knees, looking towards the ceiling. Of course. Of course it wouldn’t let him leave. It was going to hurt these people. He had to stop that somehow... but he didn’t know what he could possibly do.

“Uh... John?” Phoebe called from where she was standing by the counter.

“I’m fine,” he said again, and pushed himself to his feet. “I, uh... I used a lot of your water. And your first aid kit. S-sorry.”

“It’s fine... we can get water again,” Phoebe said haltingly. “And we don’t need bandages that often...” Some of the others looked worried, but they didn’t contradict her, even though she seemed to be the youngest one of this group.

John took a deep breath. “So... I can stay here, right? I-is that okay?”

“Stay for as long as you want,” one of the others said, her eyes filled with vague concern.

“Thanks.” He walked towards the mattresses in the corner. The distance felt like miles to cross, but he managed it, flopping down onto the surface. It was an old mattress, flattened from the years, but it was softer than the floor, or the ditch he woke up in. So he quickly relaxed into the surface, staring up at the ceiling until the patterns of water damage stains ceased to have any meaning and just became splotches.

Again, time passed. Like being stuck in the ditch, time passed. The sound of the people walking around and talking vaguely punctured his awareness, but he didn’t even process the voices as words, only as sounds. His bones were exhausted. He felt an ache within them, occasionally punctured by a dull needle of pain that caused him to wince and shift position.

The daze lasted shorter this time, but it was once again punctured by a poke. John turned to the side and saw Phoebe there. She was holding that stick she’d grabbed from the ditch. As she saw him looking at her, she smiled slightly, and poked him with the end of it. “Nostalgia.”

“Wha...?” John blinked. “Nostalgia?”

“Cause I was poking you earlier.”

“Yeah, I remember. I was just thinking about that. It’s a bit too soon for ‘nostalgia.’”

“I guess, yeah. Funny though, right? Unless that actually hurt you.” She set the stick on the mattress, then sat down next to it, between it and him. “I didn’t poke you in a bruise, did I?”

“Nah,” John mumbled.

“Good.” Phoebe nodded. “Hey. You hungry?”

John blinked, thinking about it. He didn’t really... feel hungry. But there was this strange... grinding in his stomach. That was probably hunger, wasn’t it? “Yeah...” he said slowly, uncertainly.

“Okay, hang on.” Phoebe got up again. She left, and John returned to staring at the ceiling. It didn’t have time to start becoming meaningless splotches again before she returned, dropping an armful of stuff on the mattress. “Don’t eat all of this,” she said. “But I just grabbed a little of everything to make sure you had something you liked.”

He couldn’t quite see what she’d brought from the angle where he was laying, so he pushed himself up to a sitting position, looking down at what she’d brought. A bunch of packaged foods, ranging from bags of chips to wrapped protein bars to dry instant ramen. “Uh... don’t you need water for this?” he asked, picking up one of the instant ramens. It was one of those brick-shaped ones. “And... heat?”

“Well, yeah. We have a camping stove but we need to buy a pot. In the meantime we’ve been gathering them in preparation. They’re fine to eat raw, just... crunchy.”

John laughed a little. “I’ve never thought of that... I really should’ve, in all these years.”

Phoebe smiled gently. “Wanna try?”

“Thanks, but... not right now. I’ll be fine with some crisps, I think. And... are those pretzel sticks? What’s fruit jerky?”

“It’s like, artificial leathery fruit stuff. It’s fine enough. We have normal jerky too, if you need protein. And I brought over that water bottle you grabbed earlier.”

“Thanks.” John grabbed a bag of tortilla chips and opened them up.

Phoebe grabbed one of those fruit leathers and unwrapped it as well. For a second, the two of them ate in silence. It was... pretty dark by now. He hadn’t realized how quickly the sun had set, but now the light coming through the gaps in the boarded windows were artificial orange, not natural sunbeams. He could barely see Phoebe’s face even as she sat next to it, only half of it illuminated by a square of streetlight orange. “Hey,” she said after a while. “Can I ask about... your eye?”

His heart stopped.

He must’ve stiffened or something, because she hurried to say, “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, I mean, we still don’t know what’s up with Josh and stuff, we don’t have to know what’s up with you. It’s probably pretty, uh, sensitive, a-and you probably get questions about it all the time.”

“I... just...” John squeezed the empty bag into a ball. “Wh-what’s it... look like... to you?”

“Huh?” Phoebe blinked. “I don’t really know what you mean... I guess it looks like you have, uh, some sort of medical thing? Maybe it’s a prosthetic, cause of that wire? But it looks pretty alive.”

“Yeah, it does, huh?” John said quietly. “Um...” He wanted to say something more, but he wasn’t sure what.

“...you don’t have to talk about it,” Phoebe said again, quieter than before.

“It’s just a long story,” John muttered. He shoved the empty bag into his jacket pocket and grabbed something else from the pile at random. It turned out to be a wrapped chocolate bar, belonging to a brand he wasn’t familiar with.

“Yeah, it looks like a long story,” Phoebe said. “I mean, no offense, of course. You just... seem like you’ve been through a lot. Are you, uh, British or something? You called chips ‘crisps.’” He nodded idly as he unwrapped the candy. “That’s pretty far away... you’ve been around a bit, haven’t you?”

“It’s not as far as other places,” John said.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not far.” Phoebe pulled her legs up onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged. “I think that even the other side of the state is pretty far. It’d take hours to get there, especially when you consider, like, the price of a bus ticket and stuff. I wish we had trains. I mean, we have some, but you have more over in Europe. Then again, the tickets for those would probably cost a lot, too." She chuckled drily. “Better than nothing, though, right?”

John nodded idly. He focused on eating the candy bar he’d grabbed, but the chocolate tasted like wax in his mouth. Just something to swallow to fill him up.

Phoebe was quiet for a moment longer. “You... you know... I mean, I know that... You seem...” She stammered for a bit before figuring something out. “You have something... really bad going on, huh?”

He froze, even stopped chewing, the dull chocolate just sitting in his mouth.

“I keep saying you don’t have to talk about it, a-and you don’t, but like... I think we can all tell,” Phoebe said quietly. “You don’t... seem... well.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, swallowing quickly so he could speak. “Really? I don’t? What gave it away?”

“I mean, when I found you, people thought you were dead in a ditch,” Phoebe said. “That’s not a good sign. And like... just the way you’re moving around and talking, and... I-I don’t know what’s going on, but I think it’s like, more than a physical problem, cause the way you look around is all...” She paused for a second. “Your eyes seem... empty.”

“...empty, huh?” John looked down at his hands, the shape of them barely visible in the darkness.

“Yeah...” Phoebe nodded. “And like... I-I know it’s probably really bad what you’re going through, but... you can... make it out.”

He laughed again, bursting into uncontrollable peals so forceful that he almost fell over from the strength of them. “That’s—that’s v-very optimistic of you,” he said, gasping through the laughter. “Thanks, I-I guess.”

“You’re laughing,” Phoebe stated.

“No, I—well yeah, but—s-s-sorry, I-I know you—I know you mean it.” He coughed into his elbow, trying to stop. Really, he appreciated that this random teenager apparently cared enough to try comforting him. But in the face of what he was dealing with, a basic comfort like ‘you can make it out’ seemed a bit—

“I know, it’s some shallow fucking bullshit when I put it like that,” Phoebe said. “God knows that’s what I think when other people say it. But like... look. I’m not just saying it because I feel like I have to be nice or something. Or like, I have some obligation to comfort you. I hate it when people say stuff like that and they don’t mean it. Cause I’m always like, ‘you don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m dealing with.’ Especially when Mom kicked me out, I... it felt like...” She paused. “...like there was nothing I could possibly do. I-I was so afraid. And I... I still am, sometimes. But... I’m here. And that’s... that’s what I’m trying to say. Like... you’re still here. You know?”

John’s laughter had completely faded over the course of those words. He stared at Phoebe, though she wasn’t looking back at him, digesting what she’d just said. “You don’t have to talk about it, but... why... why did your mom...?”

“It was a couple different things,” Phoebe muttered. “I just... I wasn’t really what she wanted, in any way. I think... I think the last thing she talked about was me not having a job, but... there was a lot more.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I miss her.”

“...I’m sorry,” John whispered.

“Thanks.” Phoebe looked at him. “I’m sorry about... whatever’s happening with you.”

John felt his breath hitch. Some part of him said it was ridiculous that a kid’s words were making him tear up. But most of him didn’t care. “Th...thanks,” he said quietly. He glanced away from her, staring into the darkness. “How... how do you know I’ll... make it out?” he asked. “You don’t know anything about me. How do you know that?”

“Well... like I said, you’re still here,” Phoebe said slowly. “And like, maybe you had help along the way. Like when I found you in the ditch. But you didn’t... have to look at me when I poked you. You didn’t... have to be so nice. You could’ve just yelled at me to go away and I would’ve run out of there. But... I don’t know. You didn’t. So, after everything, you’re still here. A-and I know that... it’s tough. To still be here.”

“...I don’t... feel like I’m here,” John said quietly. “I feel... empty.”

“Hah. Yeah. I did say that, huh?” Phoebe nodded. “I think it’s hard no to feel that way. But sometimes... you just gotta... do stuff anyway.”

John stared into the darkness. “I know I... probably shouldn’t be asking you for advice. We just met, and... you’re just a kid. But... what do you do when... you feel like you can’t do stuff? When you feel... out of control?”

Phoebe thought about that. She shrugged. “You keep looking for something you can do, I guess. Like... when a door’s locked, and you can’t have a key, maybe you can find something to slide through. Or maybe you can mess with the hinges. Or maybe you can find a window somewhere. I don’t know. It’s hard. And I think... it’s okay to take a break, when you like, actually can’t continue cause your fingers hurt from picking the lock. But if you lie in a ditch forever, you’re... you’re going to die in that ditch.”

John felt a pang in his chest. He clasped his hands tighter, and nodded slowly. It felt... impossible to fight this creature. Especially when it was within his own body. And sure, maybe he couldn’t fight it. Maybe it was more like trying to fight the wind, where a strong enough gust would eventually knock you over. But maybe... maybe it wasn’t like that. If he didn’t try, would he ever know? Had he ever tried to fight the creature at all? Or had he just kept running? Had he just accepted that it would be him, even if he told it he wasn’t going to go quietly? He’d tried to keep it from hurting people, but... he hadn’t looked for a way to get it out. And all of this would be solved if he found something like that.

“Uh, was that too... close to home?” Phoebe asked. “Too soon?”

“No, no, i-it was... really good,” John reassured her. “Thanks.”

She smiled slightly. “No problem.”

John looked up towards the ceiling. He took a deep breath. “I think... I think I have to leave. I can’t stay here.”

“Oh.” Phoebe blinked, surprised at that. “Are you sure? You don’t want to rest?”

He did. But not here. “Thanks for bringing me here. Really. But... there’s a lot I have to deal with. A-and I don’t want you or any of these guys to get caught up in that.” If he stayed the night here, then it would hurt them. He just knew it. And though he would fight it, he wanted to fight it, he also knew he had to pick his battles. It would be easier to head this off preemptively than to try and stop it while in the middle of a fight.

“Okay... I get it.” Phoebe nodded. “Um... hang on.” She got up, and hurried off, taking out an old phone to use as a flashlight. John stood up, swaying a bit on his feet, and watched her move around. He experimentally took a step forward. Then another. And then... then his legs locked up against his will as she walked back over. “Here.” She held out a bit of cloth to him. An old winter scarf, black and white striped. “This might come in handy. It’s getting cold.”

“...Thanks, Phoebe.” John took it, holding it tight in one hand. “I-I’ll keep it close.”

He saw her smile faintly. “Alright... see you.”

“See you. And... thanks again.”

John turned to look at the door. He took a deep breath, and walked over towards it. All he had to do was shove his way through the door. Even as his legs stopped working while he stood in front of it. It wasn’t that hard.

“You’re feeling rebellious, aren’t you?” The voice whispered in his mind. “You’re not going. I want to play here.”

He gritted his teeth. These people had only been kind to him. He wasn’t going to let them get hurt. Just get through the door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the voice growled. “You know you can’t escape me. If you leave here, I’ll drag you back. Just because you tried so desperately to get away.”

Just get through the door. His legs wouldn’t work. But he just had to get through the door.

“You’re mi̶n̸e͝. Nothing will change that. You will d̴o͠ what I w͡ant̶. You always—”

John leaned forward and shoved his shoulder against the door. As its weight gave beneath him, he lost his balance, and his feet instinctively staggered forward to catch him. Even it was surprised by the fall this time. And now, he was mostly out. He grabbed the wall on the outside, holding onto a small mailbox, and pulled himself through the gap, even as his legs went limp.

The door closed behind him.

“H...hah...” John began to smile. “Heheh. Ha!”

“You...” The voice tried to say something, but it fell silent. Was it... shocked?

“You’re not so smart for something so old,” he muttered. And before the voice could recover from that shock, he broke into a run down the dark street, putting as much distance as he could between himself and anything else.

Maybe this would come back to bite him later. Maybe the creature would lash out, and he’d regret this.

“no. sorry. we didn’t know for sure how long it would take. so that is indefinite when you think about it. it just turned out we’re ready to go a lot sooner than expected.”

“I-I see.” Stacy looked down into the sink. The apple she’d been planning on eating as a tasty snack had fallen into the drain, blocking it up. “Is this... time-sensitive? Do I need to go out there.. now now?”

“sooner is better,” Misery said. “but i know. you want to talk to the kids, don’t you?”

“And... Colleen and Roisin, if I can,” Stacy mumbled. “Though I think Colleen might still be at work...” She looked out the kitchen window. It was getting late in the year, so it was already dark, even though it wasn’t that late in the day. She sighed. “Just Roisin and the boys, then.” She reached into the sink and awkwardly pulled out the apple. Her nails pierced its skin, even though she didn’t mean for that to happen. For some reason, it made her wince. But to put her mind off that, she turned and left the kitchen, heading upstairs to the guest bedroom.

Both Mathew and Larkin were in here. Mathew was playing on his newly-found Switch while it charged, and Larkin was excitedly showing him pictures of the chalk drawings he and Nick had done earlier. “See, they’re like... actually printed out! Isn’t that cool? You can hold the pictures!”

Stacy laughed idly. “Oh... is that so wonderful? You know, when I was your age, that’s the only way we interacted with pictures.”

“Mom!” Larkin turned around to look at her, beaming. “You saw the drawings earlier, right?”

“Yes, if you’ll remember, you brought me outside to look at them.”

“I do remember! Now look at this! Nick showed me his mom’s camera and Miss Roisin showed us how to print the pictures from the computer...” He trailed off slowly, his eyes going over Stacy’s shoulder. “Mom? Why... why does it look...” He paused. “Why is it so close to you?”

Mathew looked up as well, eyes going wide. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Stacy quickly said. “I don’t think so, at least. But...”

“It’s... it’s time, isn’t it?” Mathew put his console down. “Time for whatever you’re here to do. With John, right?”

Stacy nodded. “Apparently, I’ve got to go out to the edge of town now. Ideally... quickly.”

Larkin hopped off the edge of the bed. “Let’s go, then!”

“No, no, Lark, I...” Stacy sighed. She walked forward, crouching down so she was closer to Larkin’s eye level... though she didn’t actually have to go that far down. Was he hitting a growth spurt? “I think... you and Mathew should stay here.”

Larkin’s eyes went wide. “But... but we...” He looked at Mathew for help.

“Mom, we want to help,” Mathew said. “We at least want to see John! It’s been forever since we saw him, a-and we were worried about him, so... we want to know he’s alright!”

Stacy laughed a little. “John is... not...” She didn’t want to say it bluntly, but she had to explain. “John is... not hurt, but he’s not... really alright. The last time I saw him... that thing was... making him do really awful things. A-and I’m sure John would appreciate you two coming out to see him, but... I don’t want you two to get hurt. And the thing controlling John... I don’t think it’d hesitate to hurt you if you were nearby. Even though John wouldn’t want to. Do you two understand?”

The two of them looked at each other. Larkin’s eyes were still wide, though it wasn’t clear if that was from fear or something else. Mathew’s expression was more grim. “But... but Mom, we came over here to see you!” Larkin said. “You can’t just...”

Stacy tried not to flinch at the pang in her heart. “I don’t want to leave you guys,” she whispered. “But... I need you to be safe. I... I really, really do. Misery brought you here without me knowing, and that wasn’t... fair.”

“We decided to come here,” Mathew said stubbornly. “We’re facing our fears and shit! Really hard, bad stuff is going to happen, but we can’t just—just stay here and avoid it! We want to help you, Mom!”

Tears welled in Stacy’s eyes, but she blinked them back and smiled through them. “And I’m... I’m proud that you want that. That you’re willing to face danger to help people. I think... I think you’re both wonderful boys, a-and you’ll be wonderful men when you grow up. But... if something happens to you... you won’t... get that chance. And I-I’d...” She took a shaky breath. “It’s... it’s my job as a Mom to protect you until you can protect yourselves. And... I think... this is a situation where you need protecting.”

“What about you Mom?!” Larkin cried. “What if you need protecting?!”

“Oh, pumpkin...” Stacy pressed a hand to her heart. “That’s... that’s so brave of you. But I can protect myself. I promise I can.”

“and if you can’t, i will.”

She ignored that whisper, hoping Larkin couldn’t hear it with his special senses. “If you really want to help me, it would help me the most to know that you’re here, and you’re safe. If I’m worried about you being in danger, I won’t be able to do whatever I need to, because I’ll be thinking about you, and getting ready to run off to protect you no matter what. So... please. I need you two to stay here. Just until... this is all over with.”

Mathew and Larkin glanced at each other once again. “...fine,” Mathew said. “But I want to know where you’re going. A-and I want to know when you’ll be back!”

“Fair enough.” Stacy nodded. “I... Apparently I’m going to the edge of town. As for when I’ll be back...” She paused, then turned slightly towards the presence she felt on her shoulder. “Is there a more solid timeline for this thing?”

“sort of...” Misery said slowly. “sangria says it would be surprised if this takes until morning... but that it’s not impossible to take that long.”

“So you’re saying I should be back here by morning?” Stacy asked. “What time?”

“i don’t know time numbers that well. when the sun is well above the horizon. no longer twilight.”

“‘When the sun is well above the horizon’... so about... 7:10 tomorrow morning?” Stacy guessed. That was probably the earliest everything was completely bright around this time of year...

“Actually, it’ll probably be, like, 7:30 when dawn is over,” Mathew said. “Cause we’re farther north than in Los Angeles.” He nodded. “Alright. Mom, if you’re not back by that time... uh... we’ll do something.”

“Just, whatever you do, be careful,” Stacy said, giving him a small smile. “I... I’ll walk down Hewam Street until I reach the edge of town. Is there... anything you two need before I go?”

In response, Larkin jumped into a hug, throwing his arms around her. She gasped slightly, then naturally hugged him back. “Be careful, Mom...” Larkin mumbled. “We’re going to do something if you’re not back tomorrow. Remember that.”

“Yeah...” Mathew nodded. “I’m not... I-I’m not going to hug you too, cause that’s like... final. And this isn’t going to be final. But...”

Stacy laughed a little. Once Larkin let her go, she got up, and moved over to Mathew, putting an arm around his shoulder and squeezing. “Is that fine?”

“Yeah.” Mathew nodded. “Now... go and hurry. And stuff.”

“Kick the glitch thing’s butt!” Larkin said.

“Yeah, kick its ass,” Mathew added with a bit more bite.

“I will.” Stacy smiled. “I love you. Good—” She stopped. Goodbye felt... final. Mathew was right. “I’ll see you two later.”

“See you later,” Mathew said, looking relieved that she didn’t say the G word.

“See you later!” Larkin nodded. “Take one of the pictures!” He shoved one of the photos of the chalk drawings into her hand.

“I will.” Stacy laughed. “See you later,” she said again. And then, after a second of hesitation, she turned and walked out.

She didn’t have to go far to find Roisin. The old woman was waiting at the base of the stairs. “Sorry, couldn’ help but overhear ye,” she said. “Sound carries in t’is old house.” She chuckled, but then looked serious. “You’re not goin’ into the woods, are you?”

“No.” Stacy shook her head. “I know better than that. Even if I’m asked to, I won’t go in there.” Misery shifted behind her, as if offended she didn’t trust it or its friends. Which... she didn’t trust the cat one, at least.

“Alrigh’.” Roisin held something out. A heavy-looking flashlight made of blue medal, the sort with a handle that you held onto. “Take t’is to light your way. Even if you’re not goin’ to the forest, it’ll be dark.”

“...thanks,” Stacy said, taking the flashlight.

“T’at dial near the handle can make it brighter,” Roisin added.

“Oh. Nice flashlight. Er—torch.” She chuckled a little. “I’ll be sure to return it.”

“And return yourself as well, lassie,” Roisin said.

Stacy nodded back, matching Roisin’s serious expression. “I will. Until I do... watch Mathew and Larkin?”

“O’ course.” Roisin gave the slightest smile back. “Now go.”

Stacy nodded, and took a deep breath, heading down the hallway. She paused before the front door for a second. The hand on her shoulder squeezed tighter. “Don’t rush me,” she muttered as she twisted the doorknob and headed out. “Now... let’s go save John.”

And she walked out into the darkness.

* * * * * * * * * *

John woke with a pounding in his head. Two of them, actually. One seemed to be caused by the multiple blows to the skull, the last things he remembered before fading away into fuzzy non-consciousness. The other was something... internal. He could tell. He’d never had a migraine before, but... this felt similar to descriptions he’d read. It made opening his eye difficult, as the bright light of these hallways stabbed into his brain.

“Guten Morgen.”

He groaned at the sound of that voice. Right. He was still in that doctor creature’s clutches. Being... moved around, it seemed. Something beneath him was making a rattling sound, and he could feel forward motion. He turned his head to look for the sound. The rest of his body tried to turn as well, but it was stopped. Something was holding him to the surface beneath him. He turned his attention to that instead. This was... an old hospital gurney, made of spindly metal and a thin mattress. And leather straps as well, which were the reason he couldn’t move. He could see one going across his chest, and feel more around his ankles, knees, and stomach. That last one, across his midsection, was particularly tight, because it wasn’t just going across his torso. His wrists had been bound together in front of him, and the midsection strap was going over his arms as well, pinning them against his stomach. “Isn’ th’s... much?” he mumbled.

“Nein,” said a voice near his feet.

“Notarzt is right,” a voice near his head said. “You know you’re a risk right now. We don’t want Ľó±ŧĝÅ causing trouble before we get to our destination.”

Right... the other one was here too. Sangria. “Still...” John muttered. “You don’ even... trust me to... walk?”

“Nope!” Sangria said, sounding almost cheerful. “Be happy you’re not being dragged on the ground. That’s what Notarzt originally wanted.”

The doctor creature—Notarzt—grumbled under its breath.

John tested the straps some more, wriggling a little. But he was firmly secured to this gurney. He sighed... honestly, he knew this was probably for the best. Because the pounding in his head, the internal one, was growing stronger. He squinted up at the lights above. Each one had a halo around it... some sort of strange aura. Was that from the blows to the head? Or was it...

“It’s not long now, you know,” the voice in his head whispered.

“Shut up,” John grumbled.

“I wasn’t—oh.” Sangria paused. “It’s talking to you... isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” John admitted; he didn’t see any problems with admitting that. Besides, Sangria was smart. It would know if he was lying.

“Hmm... we don’t have much time, then,” Sangria hummed. “If we want to do this, it can’t get too deep into your mind. Or else it might start gathering power. Notarzt?”

The motion sped up, jostling John’s head around. He shouted in surprise and pain as the sudden hurrying forward exacerbated the head trauma.

“I wonder what they have planned,” the voice mused. “I don’t know how they could possibly undo what I’ve done to you. You’re on the verge of being me, you know. Can you feel it? Do you still know who you are?”

John slammed his head backwards against the gurney, crying out as he did so.

“Idiot,” the voice snapped. “The pain of that blow won’t distract you from me. Can you feel yourself slipping away?” A strange sensation filled John’s mind, like fingers digging into a jar of slime. He shuddered, choking back the urge to hurl at the feeling. “Soon, you won’t be able to stop me. And neither will they.” The voice chuckled. “No matter what their little plan is.”

The gurney abruptly stopped, jolting him around. “Wir sind da,” Notarzt said. Footsteps, and then its face came into view, glaring down at John. The straps loosened, and John found he could breathe again... meaning... was he not breathing before? “Raus aus meinem Haus.”

“...sure,” John muttered. “Just... step away so I can... get up.”

Notarzt’s eye narrowed, and it backed up. John tried to sit up, but it was still difficult, as the binding around his wrists hadn’t been removed. As he struggled, he felt hands grip his shoulders and push him up. “There you go,” Sangria said.

“I can help myself,” John said.

“Oh, were you not struggling just now?” Sangria asked, very clearly amused.

John bit his tongue trying not to reply. He simply swung his legs to the side and stood up—which was easier than sitting up—and looked around. They were at the end of a long hallway, seeming to extend forever behind them. In front of them was a featureless wooden door. Notarzt stood with its hand on the handle, looking at John expectantly. “Yeah, yeah...” he grumbled. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never... meant to give you trouble, if that makes sense. Even when I sorta... threatened you in the past, it was... just because I was desperate.”

“Das ist mir egal,” Notarzt said bluntly. “Raus aus meinem Haus.”

Sangria chuckled. “Our friend here is a bit low on patience, John.” He patted John’s shoulder, then walked around him, pushed the gurney to the side, and stood by Notarzt. “Your part is done. Go protect yourself once we’re out.”

Notarzt looked at it and nodded. “Danke.” Then it looked back at John... expectantly.

John just stared back. He didn’t really have sympathy for Notarzt. This creature fed on the pain of humans, and it tortured people to get its food. But he couldn’t help but feel strangely guilty. Something must have happened between it and ĭĮįªÝ... and since he carried that voice within him now, there was... the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But he tried to shake that off. What happened between ŵèÞê¬ and Notarzt wasn’t his fault. It probably happened long before he got caught up in everything. Besides... they were both horrible. “I think I speak for both of us when I say... I hope we never meet again,” he said.

And Notarzt actually laughed. It opened the door, and gestured to the doorway. This door led to an outside—dark, the ground covered in grass and loose rocks. “Raus aus meinem Haus,” it said again... though without the bite of before.

John nodded at it. He stepped forward, passing Sangria. “Are you coming too?”

“Right behind you,” Sangria said. “Go on.”

And so, he did. He took a deep breath and stepped outside.

It was dark here... certainly nighttime, though maybe early on. Had he been out that long? And where... was he? He turned around, seeing the door embedded in the side of a brick wall. He faced forward again, and saw the ground gradually sloping upwards, until it met a dark mass of tall stalks, broken up by... white mist, which stood out in the darkness. Wait... was he...?

“John! Is that you?!”

He gasped. No. There was no way she was here. She was back in America, wasn’t she?! But he knew that voice anywhere. He turned around... and met the eyes of a woman with red hair down to her ribs, wavy, even with a large curl or two. Her brown eyes were wide in shock, and she looked pale under the freckles. Beneath the brightness of her flashlight... he saw a shadow of something else behind her, its hand on her shoulder.

“...Stacy,” he breathed. And he wasn’t sure if it was relief or dread he felt in his stomach.

* * * * * * * * * *

The road Stacy walked down led all the way to the end of town, where it met a paved circle, a few brick buildings lining its circumference. Beyond that, there was only darkness, the ground slowly forming a hill that led up to the forest... Cait Coill’s forest, with all its fog inside. “keep going,” Misery whispered.

“I’m not going into the forest,” Stacy said firmly.

“you don’t have to. just go around the back of these houses. there should be something on a back wall.”

“The back walls...” Stacy repeated in a mutter. Luckily, the houses here didn’t have fences or walls like they did in other cities. The back just faded into the countryside around it. Stacy pointed her flashlight straight ahead and walked around the first house on the left, leaving behind the safety of pavement and streetlights for the darkness behind it.

She walked around these houses, glancing at the back wall of each as she did. Nothing really stood out that much to her... and surely Misery would tell her if she missed something. So she just kept going—

Until she looked ahead and saw a figure stumble out from a door in the back of a house.

It took her a second to realize he was familiar.

“John! Is that you?!” she shouted, running closer to meet him.

He turned to look at her, an expression of absolute shock on his haggard face. He looked... awful. His clothes were stained reddish brown, though the harshness of it all had faded away into just clouds of shapes, and his hair and beard had gotten longer, more gray streaks lining the brown. The green eye had been hidden beneath bandages, but a strange greenish-black cloud colored the spot where the eye was, like ink was seeping through. His normal blue eye was bloodshot and had bags under it. And the clothes—the bloodstained clothes—hung strangely on his frame in a way she couldn’t quite place. His hands were also bound, a belt of some kind wrapped around his wrists and lower forearms.

“...Stacy,” he said quietly.

“John! It is you!” She hurried over... but then slowed a bit. The last time the two of them had been face-to-face... it hadn’t ended well. “Are you... alright?”

“I’m... I-I’m...” John seemed to struggle with putting it into words.

A second figure stepped out of the doorway—which then disappeared the next time Stacy blinked. “He’s in control of himself for now, but we all think that won’t be for much longer.”

“You!” Stacy gasped. “Jaq—Sangria!”

Sangria bowed. “Always good to see you again. And you too, Stacy.”

“good to see you,” Misery whispered.

“Stacy, I...” John swallowed a lump in his throat... and Stacy could hear a sound. Like liquid pattering against metal protrusions, but muffled by some sort of padding. “I... I’m happy to see you, but... I’m... Th-they didn’t... say you’d be here...”

Stacy laughed drily. “They don’t really tell us much, do they? At least I knew I was... coming to see you.” Her eyes flicked up and down as she looked him over once again. “I... don’t need to tell you how bad you look, do I?”

John laughed. It sounded... different than it had before. As if someone had played with the settings of a recording, then tried to set them back to normal, but couldn’t quite remember where all the sliders went. “No... and I feel just as bad, let me tell you.” His face fell as he spoke in a hushed voice. “There’s... changes... i-inside me... I can feel them. It wants... it wants to become me... or... it wants me to become it? And it... I don’t...” His eye welled with tears. “Nobody knows what will happen to me if it succeeds.”

Stacy felt tears threaten her eyes as well. “Oh, John...” She stepped closer, even as Misery tightened its grip on her shoulder.

“I... I can’t live with this anymore,” John whispered. “This whole time, I’ve just been... existing with it. Dealing with it. Surviving, but nothing more. But... not anymore. I want... I want to do something.” He laughed. “It’s like I’m treading water, but now I’m looking around, and I’m realizing that there’s stuff floating all around that I can grab onto. That can help me look for... look for land or something. If I can just figure out where land would be.”

Stacy nodded. “I’m going to help you, I promise,” she said firmly. “These things, they... you know they don’t like that glitchy one, I don’t have to tell you that. And they have a plan!”

John looked up, surprised. “You know the plan? What is it?”

“I know about the plan,” Stacy said. “But they won’t tell me much more!” She glared at Sangria, but it just shrugged. “It... it involves me, I... I-I can do something. I think because we know each other.”

“Do... what?” John asked.

“I... I-I don’t know!” Now that she was saying it out loud, it felt... foolish, that she didn’t know more. That she didn’t ask more questions or demand more answers. “These guys are so stubborn.”

“Your main goal is to get close,” Sangria said, stepping in.

“What, like... physically close?” Stacy took another hesitant step towards John.

“Yes... but not yet,” Sangria said. “We need to wait.”

John flinched. “I-it keeps... it keeps saying it’s close,” he whispered. “That it’s... it’s going to be... soon.” He shuddered. “I-I can move around on my own for now, but who knows when it’ll try to take control again?”

“it will be soon,” Misery whispered. “we can all sense you changing. like an eclipse. the moon is covering the sun, and soon, there will be total coverage. and at that moment, we’ll strike.”

Stacy went pale. “Wait... we’re waiting until right before John gets fully taken over? L-l-like... permanently?!”

John’s legs wobbled, and he almost fell over before he managed to take control of them. “Wh-what?”

“It’s a very small moment of opportunity,” Sangria said. “But it’s coming. And for it to work... you need to be a bit closer to the forest.”

“I’m not going in the forest!” Stacy squeaked. “I promised Roisin!”

“Of course, of course,” Sangria nodded. “I wouldn’t want to go in there, either. But you need to be close enough for the cat to react in case things go wrong. If ČæŽ°Ţ tries to make John run away, or if it tries to hurt you, for example.”

John looked towards the distant forest. He took a shaky breath. “It’s okay, Stacy. I don’t... I don’t think these things would hurt you... not while you’ve got that thing of your own. What’s its name, again?”

“Uh, it’s calling itself Misery...” Stacy said slowly.

“you will be safe,” Misery promised.

“I’m not just worried about me, though!” Stacy protested. “What about John?”

“He’ll be fine, too,” Sangria said. “I promise. Swear on my long, long, long life.”

Stacy pressed her lips together. There was still a seed a doubt, a distant scream of distrust. “We... won’t get too close...” she said slowly. “Y-you promise that John will be okay?”

“If the cat tries anything prematurely, I’ll be glad to step in,” Sangria said.

“...alright.” Stacy nodded. She reached out to John. “Do you... need help? I think it’s hard to walk up a hill without your arms. Balance and stuff.”

John smiled slightly. “That’d be great.” He walked closer to Stacy—only for his body to suddenly jerk to the side stumbling back. The smile on his face faded to horror. Again, he tried to take a step, but the second he raised his foot, it was like something suddenly shoved him to the side. He cried out, and Sangria caught him before he fell. “N-no!”

“Is that it?!” Stacy gasped.

“I-it doesn’t want me to get close to you!” John cried out. “I can hear it, I can—” His whole body flinched. “I-it knows you’re part of the plan! It won’t let me get close!”

“We have to move,” Sangria announced, and started dragging John towards the forest.

“I-I can w-w-walk!” John gasped. He tried to find purchase, but his own legs were fighting him as he wriggled like a worm on a hook.

“John! Wait!” Stacy ran after them.

“Go up the hill!” Sangria said.

“look, there’s a small rock there!” Misery hissed, and the beam of Stacy’s flashlight caught on a flat, wide rock, pale brown in color. “we can stop there. it’s halfway to the forest!”

“O-okay!” Stacy nodded. She ran up the side of the hill—which wasn’t really a hill, more of a gentle slope that occasionally had spots of more level ground. That rock was smack dab in the middle of one of these level spots. She stopped next to it, panting, and turned around to see Sangria dragging a struggling John up the hill right behind her. It glanced back at her, smiled, and put on a sudden burst of speed, depositing John on the ground about six feet away from her. “John!”

“S-S-S-St-Stacy-y-y,” John gasped, his voice stammering unnaturally, like a CD player with a scratch. “Somethin-thin-thin-thing’s very wro-wro-wrong.”

“It’s really starting now,” Sangria said grimly. It began backing away, moving back down the hill.

A laugh escaped John’s throat. “Do you think you all can stop me?” A voice hissed—a voice that didn’t sound like him, but didn’t not sound like him. “I am doing something never before seen! A creature of the ďÏģ¡ ŧĹ becoming flesh and blood! Walking among them!” John rolled to the side and heaved, though nothing came out. “S-stop it!” he gasped, his voice once again his own.

“John!” Stacy dropped her flashlight in a panic and rushed towards him—

John’s body moved with surprising speed, swiveling in place and lashing out at her, kicking her legs. She cried out as she fell. “You stay the fuck back!” that strange voice hissed. It let out that same laugh from before. It kept going, the peals deforming, disjointing. “It’s almost time. I told you, you wouldn’t be able to fight me! I was saving my strength for this, and now you can do nothing! Because you are nothing, Jack!”

Stacy froze in the middle of getting up. “Wh-what...? J...Jack...?”

“You can hear that now?” The voice laughed. “The person I ČØŋ§µ¶Êđ... As I become flesh, I suppose my property becomes more digestible. Relish that name, it’s the last time you’ll hear it!”

She stared at the grin on John’s face—no, on Jack’s face. She stared... and realized something. His blue eye... there was a hint of green in the corner, near the tear duct. And it was slowly staining the white sclera. Ink in water. Blood in water. Her heart jolted. “No! No! John!” She began crawling across the ground. “Fight it! You have to fight him!”

The voice growled. It lashed out again, kicking her in the collarbone, and she fell backwards, gasping.

“the time is coming,” Misery said in her ear. “hurry.”

Stacy gritted her teeth. She clambered up, despite the pain in her chest and neck—and leapt forward, landing on top of Jack’s legs. They started to flail immediately, but she wrapped her arms around them, pinning them together. “You have to fight, Jack!” she shouted. “F-for as long as you can! I know it’s hard! You have to try!” She stretched out one hand, grabbing onto the ground, pulling herself even closer. “Even if you’re just treading water—let me be there! Let me help you!”

“S-S-St-Stacy-cy-cy.” Jack’s voice gasped out, his eyelid fluttering. The green had reached the edge of his iris, infecting it as well, turning it dark. “I-I-I-I won’t let i-it...” His whole body spasmed, and he coughed violently. Blood came out of his mouth in spurts, along with bits of metal. Wires dangled from the edge of his lips, disappearing down his throat. She could hear them in his breathing.

“You’re doing great,” she said through gritted teeth. Jack’s body was momentarily still, so she crawled her way closer, wrapping her arms around his torso. “I got you. Jack. I got you.”

“Th-th-thanks...” Jack gasped, choking on the single word. His eye was rolling back, staring at nothing. The bandage was thoroughly soaked through with strange green-black liquid that dripped down the side of his face. And... the ones around his neck were the same way. His visible eye was half green, and the green was quickly gaining ground.

“It’s almost time,” Sangria called. “I can feel it from here. Misery!”

“you’ll need this.” Misery gently grabbed her right wrist. “open your hand.” She did so, and felt something press into her palm, which she wrapped her fingers around. The area grew brighter slightly. The flashlight.

“Wh-what do I do with it?” Stacy stammered.

“The corruption originates from his throat wound,” Sangria said. “Shine the light there.”

“Uh... okay...”

Jack made a gargling, choking sound, and then the voice laughed again. “Really? What’s a flashlight going to do?” it asked mockingly.

“it will help,” Misery said. “you just have to trust me.”

Stacy swallowed nervously and nodded. “Did you add some... special qualities to this flashlight?”

“Yep!” Sangria said. “Thanks for dropping it. You didn’t see the bit of fog reach out towards it? That flashlight is now imbued with the power of many souls... many more than it has.”

The voice just scoffed. “Sure. Fine. Shine a light in my face.”

Jack was still struggling, though it seemed like he was trying to fight back the force controlling him, as the struggles kept getting weaker, even as the green in his eye took over more and more. Stacy kept moving around, trying to find a good angle where she could shine the light on Jack’s throat wound while also keeping him secure. She ended up kneeling on his chest, pressing his head down with her left hand while she held the flashlight in her other. The creature made his face smile at her. The iris of his eye was almost fully black, just a rim of blue near the edge.

“It’s almost over!” Sangria shouted. “Hurry!”

“I-I’m shining it!” Stacy gasped. “It’s not... not that bright!”

“You have to get it closer, then,” Sangria said. “And faster, too! Jab it downwards.”

“...what?!” Stacy blinked in confusion.

“like you’re punching him in the throat,” Misery asked. “remember those self-defense classes? do that with what you’re holding.”

“And... that will... fix it?!” Stacy stammered in confusion.

“a fast and close motion will, yes.”

“D-d-d-do it, S-Stacy,” Jack stammered. “G-g-g-get rid o-of it-t.”

“I... I don’t want to hurt you, Jack!” She shouted.

“he’ll be better after this,” Misery whispered. “it will all be over. it’s so easy. there will be no more misery for him anymore.”

Stacy tightened her grip on the flashlight. A coil of doubt was settling in her stomach. This felt... wrong. But they were right, there was no time to act! Wasn’t there? Maybe if she just turned up the brightness on the flashlight. Roisin mentioned there was a dial on the handle to do that! Her thumb moved upwards to try and find where that dial was...

...

Wait a second.

This... wasn’t the same flashlight.

She wasn’t... holding it the same way. The one Roisin gave her had a handle, and you held onto it... horizontally. This one... she was holding onto... vertically. Like a classic flashlight.

“don’t.”

Misery knew what she was going to do. It didn’t want her to do it. But she did anyway, as she turned to look at the flashlight in her hand...

It wasn’t a flashlight at all.

It was a knife.

Gleaming in the moonlight—and in the beam of light still being created by the true flashlight, six feet to the side.

Stacy gaped at it. “Wh-what the—”

“do it stacy!” Misery shouted. “put him out of his misery!”

Jack’s eye widened. His iris also locked onto the knife. Shocked disbelief took over his expression—before the voice started to laugh.

“SHE KNOWS!” Sangria shouted.

Stacy started to drop the knife—but another hand shot out, leaving a dusty mark on hers as it wrapped her fingers more securely over the grip.

And then the fog surged down the hill. It moved rapidly, more like water barreling down a river than mist. Stacy cried out in shock—since when could the fog leave the forest?!—and that was all the time she had to do before her vision was completely grayed out. She couldn’t see anything! She coughed, choking on the mist.

“She’s all yours,” said a familiar voice... one they hadn’t heard in a while. Cait Coill. “Again, I mean. But be quick!”

Stacy shouted “What’s happening?! Stop!”... but her words didn’t leave her mouth. An unnatural silence had fallen over the area. And she felt something wrap around her wrist and her neck.

The Ragdoll was here too. They hadn’t told her that. They hadn’t told her anything.

And as that realization started to sink in, her arm moved on its own, plunging the knife downwards, towards the faint form of Jack’s neck through the fog.

Time seemed to slow for her as she went into panic mode. All this time, she’d been trying to save John! To save Jack! But that wasn’t their goal at all, was it? They only wanted to stop ÅŊŧ¦, and they didn’t care what humans they hurt in the process.

She was going to stab him, no matter what. But maybe—maybe she could shift the blade off course. For Jack. For the only one who’d stood by her, the only one who knew what this was like! He’d gone through enough hell. She wouldn’t let him go through some more... especially not by her own hand. He was her friend.

She gritted her teeth and poured all her thought and will into moving that downward plunge.

The blade didn’t go in. Not where it was supposed to. It hit bone, not throat.

Jack screamed. Despite the silence, he screamed.

The fog blew back in a circle around them. Stacy felt those strings around her wrist and neck disappear, as if they’d been pulled off. She looked down at Jack and saw the knife had hit his collarbone. In a panic, she tried to pull it out, but it was... stuck?! Had the point been that deeply embedded in the bone?!

She gave up. No time to keep trying! She could see figures moving about in the fog, which started to creep closer. They had to get out of here! Both of them! Stacy looked down at Jack, and wrapped her arms around him, lifting him up—! Adrenaline pumped her full of strength and she was able to throw him back over her shoulder. Glancing around, she spotted the flashlight and ran that way, scooping it up before turning and running down the hill, moving so fast that she felt she’d topple forward at any time.

“stacy, stop!”

No, she wasn’t going to listen to that voice anymore! She kept running forward, through the fog.

“Stop her already!”

“I’m doing it!”

The mist wrapped around her legs, grabbing them, holding them. She yelped as she almost tripped, but managed to stumble to a halt. Bits of fog began clinging onto her like cotton. “Get back!” She screeched, waving the flashlight beam around wildly like that would do something. Maybe it did, maybe her flailing around shook them off, either way, the second she felt them loosen she kept running forward. She couldn’t stop! The second she stopped, the fog would take them again! So she kept running, barreling down the hill.

Until the ground suddenly leveled, sending a jolt up her leg, and she burst out of the fog. She was behind the houses again. Her lungs were starting to tear at her ribcage, but she couldn’t stop now! Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the fog back up, then surge forward again like a tidal wave. So she let out a cry as she put on another burst of speed.

“She’s so fast! One of you get her!”

As she ran around the house, stepping from grass onto the pavement, she realized she couldn’t hear her footsteps. She staggered to a stop, trying to catch her breath, and her eyes darted around wildly. Looking for any sign of it. Because it was following her! She saw no sign of it around her, though, so—wait. She looked upwards, towards to sky... and saw a pair of spiral eyes looking down at her from the edge of a rooftop.

She instantly began running again, letting out a yell as she did—though no one would know, not even her, as the area stayed silent. Silent except for some discordant music, playing from behind her. Getting closer.

Fuck. She wasn’t sure she could outrun this one. It crawled across the rooftops as easily as she walked through the streets. But... it couldn’t attack her from above if she didn’t walk under anything.

She was running on the sidewalk next to the street, but now she turned and stepped off the curb and into the middle of the road. It was probably safe enough to do so, given how most people in the small town preferred to walk anyway. And the main streets were wide. As long as she stayed in the middle, she’d be far away from the houses and even out of reach of the street lamps.

Behind her, the fog was swirling at the edges of the houses.

Stacy’s legs were burning, but she put on a burst of speed. It was almost a straight shot from here to the Iontachs’ house! If she got there, she could at least put some walls between her and some of these creatures!

The discordant music kept coming from somewhere. She squinted ahead—occasionally seeing something glint in the lamplight. Like a spiderweb. No matter what else was ahead of her, she avoided those glints, staying in the middle of the road. It wouldn’t trap her. They wouldn’t take her. They wouldn’t kill Jack!

Sooner than she thought, she turned a corner onto the Iontachs’ street. She could almost see the house—

“Stacy!” A figure gasped, standing on the sidewalk around the corner. “What are you doing?!”

“C-Colleen?!” Stacy gaped. “What are you... doing out here?! It’s not safe! There’s... creatures!”

“I-I can see that, Stacy, I see the fog.” Colleen nodded, glancing around nervously. She stepped out into the street. “Are you okay? Who’s that man you’re carrying? Oh my god he’s injured!”

“Y-yeah, he is.” Stacy paused for a moment, gasping for air.

“Here, I-I can help.” Colleen walked closer. “I’m a nurse.”

“No!” Stacy backed away. “Nobody get close! I-it can be dangerous!” Even though Jack’s been limp for a while, he could lash out at any second.

Colleen blinked, then smiled. “Stacy, you know I’m a friend.”

“Y-yeah, I...” Stacy hesitated. She narrowed her eyes. Colleen... she was wearing... a red shirt.

“...Stacy?” the figure who looked like Colleen asked quietly.

Stacy didn’t answer, bursting into a run. She spun around—and almost walked right into a triangle of glinting air that extended outwards from a street lamp, like a flap of canvas in the wind. Quickly, she course-corrected, and began a dead sprint down the street. The house was so close!

“Damn it!” The figure in red cursed. “Get back here, Stacy! You don’t understand what’s at risk!”

“I do!” Stacy screeched, the word cracking from the strength of her yell.

“Come baaaack here, Stacy!” The figure in red drawled, the voice echoing behind her. It sounded... sweet. Enticing. “Everything will just be okay if you turn around and come back to ussss.”

She stumbled for a moment, then shook her head. Just keep going!

“Staaaacy,” the figure called. A beautiful sound... like the peal of a bell wrapping around her. “Staaaacyyyy.”

Stacy took a deep breath. “One plus one is two!” she gasped out. “One plus two is three! Two plus three is five! Three plus five is eight!” As long as she listened only to her words, paid attention only to the math needed for them to come out in a timely manner, that voice meant nothing!

And there was the house on the side of the road. She’d been running for so long, was so out of breath, that her vision was actually starting to waver and blue. It was a miracle she’d lasted this long, honestly. Now just... one... last... push! It was right in front of her! Feet away! She just had to open the door—

The discordant music came from up above.

She glanced upwards, and saw it waiting there. On the roof of the Iontachs’ house. Perched and waiting with strings already starting to dangle.

It would get her the second she paused to open the door.

But she couldn’t stop now. The fog was behind her, the figure in red was behind her. If she hesitated, one of them would get her. But she couldn’t—she couldn’t go to the house. She had to keep running, she had to go somewhere else—

And then the upstairs window of the house opened up, and out shot—something. She couldn’t really see what it was. Or maybe it didn’t really process, because it was actually absurd what she saw. A small, green... grabber... thing. With the head... of a dinosaur. It reached out and bit onto the strings dangling above the door and yanked. The discordant music played a few sudden notes, like someone banging on a piano.

The front door opened. “Inside! Now!” Framed in the yellow light from inside was Roisin.

Stacy gritted her teeth. With one final scream she ran forward. Roisin stepped to the side. As she approached the door, the small grabber clattered to the ground, the window slammed shut, the music rapidly approached as something fell from above—

And then she made it inside and Roisin slammed the door closed behind her. Something thudded against it, hard, but Roisin quickly locked the door. “Into the livin’ room, now!” she said.

Stacy stumbled to the side into said living room. She set Jack down in the first armchair she saw... and then promptly collapsed on the sofa, gasping for air. Her whole body felt like jelly. Especially her arms and legs, with her arms being practically numb. Her throat was dry, but it also seemed to be coated in thick mucus at the same time. Her body was uncomfortably hot, and her vision was all fuzzy and blurry. Even so, she only rested for a minute before trying to sit up. “Outside... creatures...”

“I’d be surprised if they can get in,” Roisin said. She looked at Stacy, a hard light in her eyes that wasn’t there before. “T’is whole town has buildin’s warded against t’ese creatures. Or at least... the oldest ones are warded. Which we are in.”

“...warded?” Stacy asked. “That’s... possible?”

“Yes... t’ough I’ll admit I don’ know how. T’ose spells date back to the magicians of old. They casted the spells to protect the town ages ago.”

“I... okay... then.” Stacy leaned her head back against the sofa.

Footsteps rushed down the hall. “Mom!” “Mom!” “Miss Stacy!”

Stacy turned her head and saw Mathew and Larkin rushing towards her. Behind them was Nick, who stopped next to Roisin and looked up at her. Stacy’s sons, meanwhile, stopped right in front of her, staring at her worriedly, hovering like they wanted to get closer but not actually. “Are you... a-are you okay, Mom?” Mathew asked.

“Really tired...” Stacy said, giving them a faint smile. “Ran here... but... okay.”

Larkin smiled. “Yay!”

“What happened? Why did you run back here?” Mathew asked. “There was that weird fog rolling down the street a-and that thing with the strings was outside the window—!”

“Did you two... distract it? With... the little...” Stacy lifted her hand and made a bitey motion, opening and closing it.

“I had a bad dream,” Larkin said. “And when I woke up, I looked out the window and saw it! S-so, uh, Mathew remembered there were those things, so I woke up Nick by going into the room for one—did we help? Miss Roisin told us she also had a bad dream and that we needed to do something!”

“So... you put this plan together... once you saw the fog outside?” Stacy asked.

“Indeed,” Roisin confirmed, patting Nick’s head. “It wasn’ a coincidence that both I and young lad Lark had th’ same dream to wake us up. We... sensed it. T’at they were comin’.”

By her side, Nick nodded. And then his eyes wandered. “Um... who’s that?”

Mathew and Larkin turned to the side. “Holy shit, is that John?!” Mathew gasped.

John—Jack’s eye was closed, but he opened it at the sound of the question. The green in it had retreated, and it was once again normal blue. He smiled faintly, despite the strange green-black liquid soaking through the bandages, despite the way his hands were still bound tight, despite the knife sticking out of the left side of his collarbone. “Yeah... that’s me,” he said faintly.

“His real name is Jack,” Stacy said.

Jack started. “You... you heard that? You... remember that?”

Stacy nodded.

“I... don’t know if that’s a good sign... or a bad sign...” Jack muttered.

“Are you... you?” Stacy asked quietly.

“I’m back... to how I was... a couple hours ago, I think,” Jack said slowly. “It’s... still there. I can still... h-hear it in my head. But... when you stabbed me, it... pushed it back slightly?” He chuckled. “I think it felt the pain and got scared... realizing that it was actually also in danger. That’s the price you pay for being physical, bitch.”

“Wait... did you say Mom stabbed you?!” Larkin’s eyes went wide.

“It wasn’t really me,” Stacy said quietly. “It was Ragdoll. Well... it was almost me, but only because they were tricking me. I-I thought...” She shook her head. “Nevermind. I-I can tell you all about it later. Right now... I just want to be sure they can’t get in.” She turned around in her seat, looking at the window... which was completely covered in white fog.

“No, none of the ones outside can get in,” Roisin confirmed. “Sure, we’ll be stuck in here for a bit, but at least we’re all together. An’ the city’s been prepared for somet’ing like t’is for decades. Ev’ryone will know not to go outside, and ev’ryone has food stockpiled.”

Stacy let out a long breath of relief. “Good... that’s good...”

Larkin frowned, though. His eyes were looking... behind Stacy. And Mathew glanced at Roisin worriedly. “Uh... you emphasized ‘the ones outside can’t get in’. Does that mean... there are some in here...?”

Roisin nodded. “Can’ be helped bringin’ them in.” She looked at Jack and Stacy. “But I do hope they’ll be on their best behave—”

A shadow suddenly moved behind Stacy. She started in surprise—then cried out as a heavy weight pressed down on her shoulders. The weight grabbed onto her throat, not making it hard to breathe, but impossible to ignore, and something moved into her field of vision. A... a face. It was upside-down, eyes peering into her own as it leaned over her from behind. Despite being upside-down, tears continued to flow down its cheeks as it stared at her, and dust filled the room, blocking out Stacy’s vision of everything except that face.

She tried to speak, but found it impossible. All she could do was stare at the face of Misery.

Stacy hesitated, casting her mind back over the conversations she’d had with Misery. Ever since she showed up back in that house, with it there, and nothing else. Misery told her that it and its friends had a way to stop ľ¿ĿŰé... and that they needed her for it. To help him! Except... did they ever say they wanted to help him? To help... Jack? “You... you must have...” Stacy said slowly. “No, wait—yeah, S-Sangria promised he’d be alright!”

“well, Sangria lies. it’s your fault for taking it at its word. but I never lied to you, Stacy.”

“I...” Stacy hesitated. Maybe... maybe Misery hadn’t lied to her... but isn’t twisting the truth essentially the same thing? It never told her Jack would be fine, it never promised she wouldn’t have to hurt him. But it... led her on, in a sense. It made her think they would banish the creature possessing Jack. Not... kill him to get rid of it.

The face backed away from her, but she still couldn’t look away from the dark figure standing before her. In her periphery, the landscape had changed. She was no longer in the Iontachs’ house, instead in some... gray, endless plane, the sky barely lighter than the flat ground. All the people around her—her sons, the Iontachs, Jack—had disappeared as well. It was only her... and Misery. “if anything, YOU were the one who lied to ME, Stacy.”

“What?!” she gasped.

“you said you didn’t dislike me.”

“I... I did say that,” Stacy admitted.

“but now you hate me. you lied.”

“No, I—i-it was the truth at the time!” Stacy explained. “But things change! Opinions change, if you get more information! Like... the information that you guys wanted me to kill my friend! Or—w-whatever you’re doing now!” She tried to look around, but she couldn’t move her head. “Where are we?!”

“we’re still where we were, but things have changed,” Misery said.

“Changed...? This is—this is more than changed!” Stacy growled. Alright, if she couldn’t look away from Misery, maybe she could walk away? She tried to stand up... only to realize she was already standing up. When had that happened?

Now that she was paying attention, her body felt... strange. In how it didn’t feel like... anything at all. The closest thing she could compare it to was the weightlessness of being underwater. But even that wasn’t quite right. She wiggled her fingers, and though she knew she was doing it, she couldn’t... feel the movement. Her fingers didn’t rub against each other, or whoosh through the air. She heard the slight patter of her fingertips against her legs, but didn’t feel the contact. What was going on?

“it doesn’t matter,” Misery dismissed.

“Fine,” Stacy grumbled. “But... y-you’d better understand. I’m allowed to change my mind! Especially when you lead me to try and kill the only friend I have right now! The first one who really understood, who—who helped me! With you!” She felt Misery’s attention narrow. “I told you before, you... you’ve hurt me. I-I grew to tolerate you, but... something like this... M-manipulating me... to do one of the worst things I could imagine, one of the last things I’d ever want to do...” Her voice cracked. “C-can’t you see how that would... change how I feel about you?”

Misery tilted its head... and the world seemed to tilt with it. Stacy felt gravity shift, pulling her to the side, like she’s standing on a hill. “can’t YOU see how much that hurts? I’ve only ever wanted to give you what you want.”

“And what I want... just happens to be what you need?” Stacy asked quietly.

Its face tilted even further, and Stacy yelped as things started to slide. And slide—and slide until it flipped and she started falling into gray nothingness. “Wait—wait!” She stared upwards, her eyes locked onto Misery’s face. Its face was locked towards her in turn, even as the ground became more and more distant, and its form faded into the gray that surrounded her.

“we want the same things, Stacy. that’s why I was drawn to you. that’s why I sought you out, even after you left the house and the city behind. I’ve never felt like this before, not in all the centuries I’ve existed. others have gotten close, but you... you’re perfect for me. and isn’t that wonderful? isn’t it an amazing feeling, to know there is something out there that understands you so well?”

Beneath her, a darker gray surface was rushing towards her. No, wait. She was rushing towards it. She was falling! The thought took a moment to register in her brain, as she didn’t feel the pull of air against her skin. But the second she realized she was falling, her stomach dropped, and she began to flail about. “Wait! Wait! Oh god! Help!”

“do you want my help or not?”

“Not you!” Stacy blurted out without thinking. “But—someone! Help! Please!”

In response, she just seemed to fall faster, the dark gray surface taking up her whole vision. She screamed—

And then splashed.

The dark gray surface was not solid, but liquid. Later, she would recall the fact that hitting liquid from such a height still should have splattered her like concrete. But in the moment, she only felt confusion. Followed by panic as the darkness pressed around her. She was still falling—sinking! The weight of it dragging her down. She tried to tread water, recalling some faint muscle memories from times she’d swam in pools with her family, but whatever this dark substance was, it wasn’t water. She did not float on it. Her treading motions weren’t strong enough to push against it.

The panic climbed, and she made wilder motions, sweeping wide with her arms and kicking frantically with her legs. Up, up! She needed air! She needed light! And yet, all she received for her efforts was more sinking.

“let go.”

Misery’s voice gave her pause, and she looked around for the source of it. Though... it didn’t sound like it came from a specific location. Maybe Misery didn’t actually speak? Maybe its words were just in her head?

And then she paused. Was she... breathing?

She didn’t know if she was. If breath was passing through her nose, she couldn’t feel it. Only a faint... stinging. The same stinging was in her eyes. But that pain wasn’t the same as the pain from opening your eyes underwater. Whatever this substance was... it wasn’t water. And she... could breathe through it? Or at least, if she wasn’t breathing, the lack of air didn’t harm her.

“H... hello...?” Stacy called, testing out her voice. Opening her mouth brought a stinging, warm pain to the back of her neck. But her words could still be heard.

“hello.” Again, Misery’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Where am I?” Stacy looked around, but all she could see was dark gray in every direction. Even when she looked down, her own body seemed to be covered in faded gray, the faint pattern of rippling light dancing across it, like sun on the ocean floor.

“like I said, you’re still where you were before.”

“Oh that’s bullshit!” Stacy flailed wildly, trying to swim through this liquid. It was hard to tell if she was making any progress.

“you’re very smart, Stacy, why haven’t you figured it out by now?” Misery asked.

“Because you’re not being clear!” Stacy shouted in frustration. She glared in all directions, just in case Misery was watching her from any angle.

And as she looked down, she caught a glimpse of something light—or, well, lighter gray, at least. She stared downwards. The light gray thing grew closer... oh! It was... a bubble? A few of them, gently floating upwards one at a time. As they got closer to her, she felt a strange compulsion to reach out and touch them. And though she probably should have questioned that compulsion more, she found her hand moving on its own, reaching to the first bubble.

The second her hand touched it, the bubble expanded, taking up her entire vision. Reflected on its surface, made of the blocks of rainbow color that usually danced on top of bubbles, was a scene. A bedroom. A familiar bedroom. She froze, realizing what this was. Their old house, back in America, before they moved to Brionaise. This was her bedroom.

The scene on the bubble became more and more detailed, matching her memory of this place. She saw... herself, lying in bed. Eyes fixed forward on the TV in her room. And as the current her watched her past self, another figure came into the room. Mathew, two or three years younger than he was now. He opened his mouth, and the words he spoke resonated through the bubble, echoing slightly. “Hey, Mom.”

Her past self glanced over at him, then sat up straight suddenly. “Mathew?! What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be in school!”

“Yeah, I was,” Mathew said. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?! What do you—” Her past self stopped talking, and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Her eyes widened. “Oh...”

“Larkin and I walked home,” Mathew said. “But I... I thought you were gonna pick us up?”

“No, of course I was, sweets, I just... I-I lost track of time...” Her past self trailed off. “Um, did it go... well?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t wait for too long, did you?”

“No, we left after like, ten minutes.” Mathew’s tone wasn’t exactly blunt on purpose... but his honesty was stated simply.

“You... did, huh?” Her past self whispered. Stacy felt her heart sink, much like it had on that day. Weighed down by the realization that her children expected her to be late... or forget altogether. “Um, well, I-I’ll start dinner, then.” Her past self stood up. “How does, um, mac ‘n’ cheese sound, sweets?”

“Sounds good, Mom,” Mathew said, and didn’t say much more.

The bubble popped, and Stacy instinctively blinked, expecting the suds from it to get in her eyes. They didn’t, though. The same way this dark gray liquid wasn’t getting in her eyes. Seeing this memory... she realized what was going on. “This is... all in my head, isn’t it?” She whispered. “Th-this isn’t real.”

“of course it’s real. that memory really happened. forgetting it won’t change that. burying it won’t change that.”

More bubbles floated towards her. In their surfaces, Stacy saw the reflections of her past a hundred times over. That compulsion to touch them washed over her again, but she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to let them pass by. She didn’t need to see what they contained. She was very familiar with them. They popped into her mind enough already. Even so, she had to put all her will into keeping her hands still. She folded her arms, tucking her hands into her armpits, and tried not to let her eyes dwell on the bubbles as they floated upwards, towards whatever distant surface there was.

“you have such good kids, Stacy,” Misery said quietly. “they’re so good for still loving you.”

Stacy tried to take a deep breath. It didn’t happen, of course. “Are you trying to make me feel like I’m the worst person ever? Because... I know I’ve... made mistakes. But... I’m not... the worst.”

One last bubble floated past her. As it did, it gave off a faint sound... Breen-breen-breen! Breen-breen-breen! Electronic ringing.

Her eyes locked onto it.

And without even thinking about it, her hand was already outstretched.

“No!” She shouted, forcibly withdrawing her arm. She spun away, trying to look away—but just like before, with Misery’s face, the bubble remained in front of her. Breen-breen-breen! Breen-breen-breen! It continued to ring as it rose upwards.

“that’s the source of it all, isn’t it?” Misery asked. “that phone call, when the loss became solid. that’s what changed everything. that night... when you became just a mother, no longer a wife.”

“Don’t rub it in my face!” Stacy shrieked. She tried to close her eyes—but this was all in her mind, so she had no eyes to close. “Why are you doing this?! You said you didn’t want to hurt me, didn’t you?! So why?! Why do you keep bringing this up?!”

“aren’t these the things you want to think about?” Misery’s voice echoed around her. “there are tracks in the soft gray of your mind, well-worn paths that you tread down often. these memories are there, often.”

“That... that doesn’t mean... I-I want to keep going down the same paths!” Stacy’s voice shook slightly. “Do you not understand that?” As soon as she asked, she laughed. “No... maybe you don’t understand that at all. You’re not human. You probably don’t change. People change. I-I want to change. I want to move on from this! Haven’t I said this before? Why haven’t you listened to me? A-and besides, what does this have to do with what happened tonight?! My past—it doesn’t change the present, because those were your actions. Not mine!”

“I thought you would be calmed by these things,” Misery said. “calmed by these familiar memories.”

“What?!”

“whenever you do something new, you’re scared. I don’t want to scare you. I want to be there for you.” In the distance of the dark gray nothing, she could almost make out a face. “I’ll always be there for you, Stacy. you can’t change that. so I don’t think you should push so hard. you’re not going to get me to leave. which is what you want, isn’t it?”

“I...” Stacy hesitated. If she could be free of Misery... wouldn’t she want that? If Misery suddenly disappeared one day, would she be happy? The answer was, of course, ‘yes.’ But how would someone even go about doing that? She didn’t think it was possible. That didn’t change things, though. Especially now. After what Misery and its friends had done, she would be happy to never see it again.

That... wasn’t going to happen, though... was it?

Her heart began to sink and she shook her head to try and be free of these feelings. It didn’t work. The dark gray around her seemed to press the emotions back in, and they felt even heavier once they were there again.

“do you know what it’s like to never be wanted?” Misery whispered.

“You—you can’t make me feel bad for you,” Stacy stammered. “Don’t you kill people? Or... drive them to... E-even if you’re not the one who actively does it, it’s still your fault! Is that why you wanted me to kill him?! So that I’d feel so bad about it, that I would—I would—” She couldn’t say the words.

“we really DO need to get rid of Êʼnŵ²¢. you know that. it came after jack, it came after mathew, it’s too powerful for what it is. too dangerous. this was the easiest solution.”

“Well... the good things are never easy,” Stacy muttered. She looked upwards. The dark gray above was the same as the dark gray below, and indeed, the dark gray all around. But she could sense where ‘up’ was. And so, despite the heavy weight of the liquid around her, she started kicking again. Started trying to paddle.

“what are you doing?”

“Trying to get away from this place!” Stacy said through her teeth.

“you can’t escape your own mind.”

“This isn’t my whole mind! It’s just—the part of it—you like!” She reached up high above and swept her arms downwards. She couldn’t tell if she was doing anything. But didn’t she have to try?

Misery fell silent, but she knew it was still there. It was watching her as she struggled against the weight of this stinging liquid. Which is why she didn’t give up. This was hard. This was tiring—if not physically, then mentally. But she had to keep going. She had to get out of here!

Even if nothing was changing. She wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

It felt like ages passed.

Like each second was a century of its own.

But she kept going. She kept trying to get out. Hadn’t she fallen into this place? That meant there was a surface somewhere. And besides, it was her mind. She was in control of it! Forget what Misery said! She could do it, she could change things—she could wake herself up, and back in the outside world, they could talk about what to do next to help Jack—and after that, what to do to help her. She and the kids could settle down somewhere. Ideally, somewhere far from these horrors. And Jack could live with them once he was free. It wouldn’t be a perfect life, that was for sure, but it would be theirs. And they would be happy.

And then she broke the surface. Gasping for air—despite the lack of air to breathe—she fumbled about until she eventually stood. The ocean she’d fought so hard to swim to the top of... was now only to her hips. The space above her was still gray, but in varying shades. Shapes were moving up above. Crackles and dots and shapeless clouds, shifting rapidly against a near-black background. She stared for a moment. Then looked forward and tried to walk—

But something held her back. Something... was pulling on her wrist. Stacy turned to look. Her right hand was still in the liquid, and something beneath it was holding on. She jerked her arm away. Only for it to yank her back.

“Let... go,” she said through gritted teeth. She gripped her right arm with her left hand and pulled. “I said... let... go!” This wasn’t working. She spread out her legs for a better support, leaning back as she tried to get free. “Misery! Let me go!”

“don’t LEAVE me!”

“I don’t want to be with you!” Stacy snapped. “Accept it!”

“why can’t YOU accept it?!”

“Because you’re not giving me a choice!” Stacy heaved against the thing holding her back. “You say you care about me! You say you don’t want to hurt me! But if I can’t choose what I want—if you won’t let me do anything on my own—then none of it is real!”

She pushed forward, then jerked back hard. Something snapped and she fell backwards, going through the surface of the liquid again. Everything went black for a moment.

And then she was falling, like before. Not sinking through this liquid, but free-falling, the sound of wind accompanying her as she tumbled through pale air. Streaks of tall, dark structures appeared around her, having no bottom, just fading into a gray fog as she fell endlessly.

“Stop this!” Stacy shouted, the air snatching her words away. “I know you’re here, Misery! I know you can hear me! This is getting us nowhere! I’m not even afraid!”

No answer, as she continued to fall. Her view pitched this way and that, but with this numb feeling in her body, she couldn’t connect to the image before her. It was less like she was rolling down a hill, and more like she was watching a poorly filmed movie.

“What do you want from me?!” She cried. “Do you want me to die?! Is that it?! Why am I here?! Why did you bring me here?!” Why—”

And then her vision rotated, and she saw the ground rushing at her—

SLAM!

...

...

It didn’t hurt, when she landed. But she felt the jolt. For half a second, she saw the living room again, saw the others looking at her with worry.

And then she was back here. Wherever ‘here’ was. This... hallucination? No. It didn’t feel like a hallucination. But it didn’t feel real, either. The ground she was lying on... she could feel its rough asphalt-like texture, but it didn’t dig into her skin.

Stacy raised her head. The new space she was in was dark. Except... for a line of lights. Cones of white casting circles on the ground, like street lamps at midnight. In front of her, extending forward into eternity.

She climbed to her feet, looking to either side, then behind her. It was completely dark in all other directions. And when she turned back around... in the distance, beneath one of the lights, there was a figure. Watching her.

Dust drifted through the air. Neither of them moved.

“do you know what I am, Stacy?”

Slowly, Stacy shook her head. “Not... really. You’re... Misery. You’re... a creature. A-a monster? A—”

“a horror.”

Stacy blinked. “Is that what... is that what you guys are called?”

“it’s what all of you have always called us. you all gave the name first. that’s how it’s always been. we have always been born of you. especially me.” The figure tilted its head. “do you understand, Stacy? I have always been of your kind. I have always been connected to you. I guess escape isn’t completely impossible, but... it’s hard. and we tend to linger.”

“What... are you saying?” Stacy asked slowly.

“I can’t... not be... what I am.” The head continued to tilt, the neck bending crooked. “do you understand that?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?!” She couldn’t hide the frustration in her voice. “What do you want?!”

“what I’ve always wanted. I want others.”

“Why, though?” Stacy swallowed a lump in her throat. “Just because you’re a horror? It’s driven into you to... want people? To want to hurt them?”

“I don’t want to—”

“But you do!” Stacy interrupted. “It doesn’t matter how often you say you don’t want to hurt people, if you end up doing it anyway. I know I’m not the first person who ever lived in your house. In fact, I think that’s a whole thing for you, isn’t it? You’ve said before you move around. All those people... for... centuries, you said? You hurt them. Even i-if you wanted something else from them! They were still hurt by your hand!”

A crunching, crackling noise drifted through the air. Then, with an audible crack, the figure’s head snapped downwards, its head resting on its chest while its face was still directed towards Stacy. A backwards head, a twisted neck. She shrieked as the figure’s body collapsed.

The lights went out. And then came back. And the figure was standing up again, head back to normal, standing under a different light. One that was farther down the endless trail. “what if... I was helping? what if I was giving them what they wanted?”

Stacy swallowed her fear. “They only wanted that... because you pushed them to want that.”

“and yet, I am born of you.” The figure’s head began tilting again, moving to the other side. “all of you. how can you want something that hurts you?”

Stacy laughed drily. “It... it’s really common, actually. Humans want things they can’t have all the time. They want... they want things that hurt them. Maybe they don’t understand how much it will hurt, or maybe... maybe they do. But... I don’t know. Maybe they think hurting is easier... less scary... than facing the world. Or maybe... they think they deserve it. When really, they... they rarely do. That doesn’t mean that... if they hurt, then they’ll be fulfilled. I-I’ve heard of plenty of stories, both fictional and in real life, of people getting what they wanted, only to regret it later. Or... only to realize they really wanted something else.” Her eyes were stinging again. “Pain is not good. It’s never good, no matter what we tell ourselves.”

“what if the pain they had before was worse?” Misery asked. “what if I offered them a lesser pain?”

“The pain you offer is... debilitating,” Stacy said slowly. “At best. And at worst, it’s... final. When people are under your misery, Misery, they... they can’t get better. Not alone. A-and it is so hard... to not be alone. When you’re feeling like that. It’s so hard to... reach out. And accept other people reaching out. You’re only ever hurting them. You’re... stopping them from... what they could be. They could be happy.”

“some people are happy in misery.”

“No, they’re not.” Stacy shook her head. “They only think they are. Because... it’s all they’ve known. It’s all they have. It’s all... they can... think of themselves as being.” She pressed her hand to her chest, curling her fingers into a fist. “But everyone can be so much more. If they just... had a chance.” She blinked wildly, and looked at the figure across from her, its head still tilted. She took a hesitant step forward. “That’s why... I couldn’t let you do that to Jack.” Another step, more confidently. “H-he deserves so much more than what he’s gotten.” And more steps, walking up to the edge of the light circle she was in. “If he dies... then there’s no chance he can have that! If he dies... If I killed him... I would slip so far down, that... th-the only thing I’d know would be misery. A-and I don’t want that... anymore. For him, either.”

The head tilted farther to the side, the neck crooked again. “you don’t... want me anymore, either, then... but you can’t... you can’t...” The voice didn’t finish what it was saying.

“Can’t what? Can’t leave you?” Stacy paused, then stepped out of her circle of light and into the next one. “Maybe... maybe you’re right. I mean, it’s not like... I can get a restraining order on you or something.” She laughed drily. “You’re not human. I don’t even know if... if you’re understanding... what I’m saying. But... if you’re going to keep doing stuff like that... I-if you’re going to keep tricking me, and pulling me into these weird dream worlds, a-and all that...” She also didn’t finish. “What... do you want? Why... do you want people? Do you really think you’re helping?”

The figure paused... and its head tilted back the opposite direction, the neck straightening out slightly. “it’s what they want.”

“And what do you want?” Stacy asked. “Do you want to ‘help’? Do you want...” She remembered something, faintly. “Do you want... company? Do you feel... H-how do you feel? Do you even have emotions?”

Again, the head straightened out, only slightly tilted. “not like yours.”

“But... you have them?” Stacy asked, reading between the lines. “Wh-what are they? How do you feel when... when you do these things to someone?”

The figure considered this. Its eyes closed, then grew long, trailing down its face like liquid. “it feels... complete. when I am doing it, it feels... like work. but not a chore. and when it is over, I feel... complete. but not for long. then I feel... like nothing. I feel... empty.”

“...empty, huh?” Stacy muttered. “Like... this is your purpose? You’re... fulfilled? By doing this?”

“close enough, I guess... but that’s... too strong. it’s like... putting in the last piece of a puzzle and looking at the finished picture.”

“Okay...” Stacy said slowly. “And... why do you want company? Besides this? Are you... lonely?”

“people make the empty go away for longer. like you. I haven’t felt empty since I saw you... except when you’re not there. otherwise... it’s like... something is missing.”

Stacy winced. Unfortunately... she understood that feeling. In a way, at least. It seemed like whatever Misery felt wasn’t a one-to-one for human emotions, but... maybe it was close enough to make some comparisons. “Well... sometimes I feel like I’m missing something too. It’s a... a lack of understanding. You want to be known, right?"

The figure leaned back. “no. no, don’t want to be known.”

“And that’s why you hide, isn’t it?” Stacy reasoned. “Because whenever someone looks at you... there’s a chance they’ll... understand you. And you don’t like that—a-at least, not in that way, right? You want to... you want to do it on your own terms. I mean...” She gestured at the figure. “You’re standing in front of me right now.”

After a second, the figure leaned forward again. “it’s different when it’s you, Stacy. we are the same.”

“...maybe so,” Stacy admitted. “But you’re not the only thing out there that... I’m similar to. Like I said, I’ve felt like something’s missing, too. I’ve felt like... like there’s this part of me, these experiences, that I want someone to understand so much, but it’s... scary to do that. And... what I’m talking about... I-I’m talking about you, Misery. My experiences with you and all your friends. There are so few humans out there that have gone through the things I have. And one of them—the first one I met—is Jack.”

Misery’s eyes blinked. The lights above flickered, and when they turned on again, it was in a different circle of light. The next one. It was getting closer to her. “Jack?”

“Yeah.” Stacy nodded. “He and I... we’ve been through so much together. We have this—this understanding, this connection. The same way you feel about me. And... you don’t want me to disappear, do you? You don’t want me to leave and suddenly you can’t see me, right?”

“no, never.”

“Well... I don’t want Jack to die for the same reasons,” Stacy said quietly. “I-I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to lose him. And the trick you pulled—because it was a trick, i-it doesn’t matter if you never outright lied or not—it would make me lose him! So... do you know why I’m so upset, now? Imagine if someone tricked you into... pushing me away.”

The figure went very still. For a second, Stacy doubted that it was even there at all, if it was just an image on a screen, despite how little sense it made. And then the lights flickered, and once again, it was even closer to her. There were only two light circles between them. “I... I understand,” Misery said slowly. “I understand why you... wouldn’t want to do that.”

Stacy nodded, a bit relieved. It took a lot, but they got there eventually. Horrors clearly weren’t made with empathy in mind. “And do you understand how that affected my feelings about you? Do you understand why I-I don’t know if I can tolerate you, if you’re going to do things like this?”

“...yes.” Misery nodded. Its eyes disappeared from its face, and she got the feeling that it was thinking. “but Stacy... I wasn’t lying when I said we can’t leave each other that easily. once made, a claim is almost impossible to break. you are a home for me. like the houses I’ve haunted before. even if I was to leave you, I would still... sense you. you are part of my nature now. I made that choice... and now I can’t change it.” For the first time, there was a twinge of... regret in its voice.

“...I see...” Stacy whispered. She felt a lump in her throat... or was it in her chest? There was a hard knot of feelings somewhere within her, and it brought tears to her eyes for reasons she couldn’t untangle.

“and... we can’t think how to stop Ő®æ»ś without Jack dying,” Misery continued. “what I just said about claims being almost impossible to break... it’s true for him, too. even if it wanted to move away from him, it couldn’t... especially not at this stage, with what it’s trying to do.”

“What would killing him have even done...?” Stacy whispered idly, the question simply falling from her voice.

“at that moment, ķÿÇ¿ŵ had almost become Jack,” Misery explained. “if the plan worked, you would have—the knife would have been driven in exactly when the sŒbsßmºng was complete. żĚêµÇ would have been entirely contained within a physical body for just a moment, before it managed to adjust and figure out how to use it. it was weak in that moment... destroying its physical form would have set it back. killed it entirely, if we were lucky, but I doubt it would have been gone for good. just... no longer a threat to us, and less of a threat to humans. do you understand this?”

“I guess...” Stacy muttered. “But... back to what we were saying before...”

“you can’t get rid of me,” Misery whispered. “should I say sorry for that?”

Stacy took a deep breath... though the motion still made no difference in this dreamlike place. “I’d appreciate it, but... I doubt you’d actually mean it. You’re not... capable of that, I think. I mean, if you were, you wouldn’t... do all those things to people.”

“what do you mean?” Misery seemed confused.

“Never mind.” Stacy shook her head. She looked back at the figure across from her. “Maybe... maybe I knew I could never get rid of you. I mean... you’re not... I-I don’t even know how much of you is ‘real’ and how much is ‘in my head.’”

“they’re not so different, you know. isn’t everything in your head? your brain interprets the information it gets from your senses and its own chemicals. when you think about it, what’s in your head is the only thing you know is real at all.”

“I don’t want to think about that,” Stacy muttered. “Besides, it doesn’t change the fact that there’s stuff out there.” She looked around, imagining this dark space as a dome enclosed around her. “There’s stuff that’s providing the information from the senses in the first place. When I’m in my bedroom, it doesn’t mean that the bathroom or the kitchen have suddenly disappeared. They’re still there. What I mean is... I don’t know how much of you interacts directly with my thoughts, and how much of you interacts with the world.”

“maybe it would help to think of me as something... in between.”

She faced the figure again. “We’re getting off topic. My point is... how do you get rid of something in your thoughts? I know... I know there are ways. I know there are plenty of things you can work through a-and they won’t trouble you anymore. But... are you even one of those things?” She stared. The figure seemed darker than the blackness outside the light.

Misery stared back at her. Simply waiting.

“I... don’t think... fighting you will be all that helpful...” Stacy said slowly. “Not... constantly, at least.”

“I don’t want to fight you. I never have. I want to help. and... I want... to not feel nothing.” The lights flickered, and the figure moved forward again, leaving now only one light circle between the two.

“Yeah...” Stacy muttered. “And I want...” She paused, thinking. “I want... to be able to spend time with my kids. I want to be able to help Jack. A-and once he’s alright, I want to be able to see him and talk to him. I want to go to work, and come home to a nice house, a nice house where I live with Mathew and Larkin. I want the two of them to go to school and spend time with friends and I want to help them follow their dreams. I want them to have dreams. And... I want that for me, too. I want... to be able... to want.”

“you want... to have a life to live,” Misery whispered, a dawning in its tone.

“A-and I can’t do that if I’m fighting you all the time,” Stacy said slowly. “But I can’t get rid of you, either. So... I can work with you. If you can work with me. If we can... be clear with each other. A-and try to understand. We won’t always want the same thing... and in those cases, you can’t push at me o-or mislead me like you did with Jack. Do you understand?”

Misery was silent for a moment. Then the figure nodded. “...I think so. Stacy, I won’t... it’s hard for us to change. it’s hard for us to be anything other than what we are. but... I don’t want to lose you. so... tell me. tell me if I make you feel empty.”

Stacy nodded back. She took a step forward into the next light circle. “I will.”

This was a start. She never expected that she’d be here, making an agreement with this thing that tormented her and her family, and did the same to so many others, ending lives like it was nothing. But how else was she going to get out of this situation? How else was she going to... have a life to live? Some part of her was deeply sad, and another part of her shouted that she should have kept fighting this horror until she couldn’t. But ‘until she couldn’t’ probably meant the end for her. And she couldn’t do that. She had a family. She had friends. And she had so much more she wanted to do and see and experience. This was the best way. Maybe it was the only way. So, no, she wouldn’t hold onto her anger and her spite at this thing that made her life so difficult. She would try to work around it.

But there were still some things that had to be addressed sooner or later. Eventually, maybe Stacy could try to make Misery... not so dangerous to others. Maybe she could convince it to take away its ‘gift’ of special sight for her. Maybe neither of those things could happen, and in that case, maybe she needed to find out more about the horrors in this world, to learn how to protect herself and others.

For now, though... there was one thing that needed urgent attention.

“What do we do about Jack?” Stacy asked. “And... the creature? And... a-all your friends? They’re outside, and they’re definitely not happy that I ruined this plan.”

“I can talk to them,” Misery promised. “they won’t bother any of you after that. but I’m not sure what to do about ¾Ľŏާ... that really was our best chance against it. and Stacy... I don’t know what to do about Jack, either. I don’t know if he can escape it now, not with how much its done to him.”

“...okay,” Stacy whispered. “Okay. We can... can figure it out. Maybe the others will know what to do. Roisin seems... smart.” She looked up towards the black sky, imagining there was something beyond it. “But to talk to them, I have to ‘wake up’. And... so do you, I guess.”

“yes.”

Stacy looked back down. “How do we do that?”

Misery tilted its head to the side. Behind it, the cones of light started to disappear, winking out one by one. Stacy looked behind her, and saw that the light circles she’d been standing in were already gone. When she faced forward again, she caught a glimpse of Misery’s face before the light it was standing in went out. And then... the one around her did, too.

She was left in darkness. Left in blankness. And that was all there was, since she still couldn’t feel her own body.

Except... wait a second. She could feel it. Faintly. And beneath her legs, and against her back, she felt something else. She heard... something else.

Stacy felt nerves twist in her stomach. This thing—Misery—said the same thing she felt, putting words to what had been unexplained sensations and emotions. That... made her feel uneasy. It probably wasn’t a good idea that Misery wanted her to rest. But at the same time, part of her didn’t care.

The hand on her shoulder moved, leaving a trail of dust behind. Dust that the hand then tried to gently sweep away, but every motion just left more dust behind, catching the hand in a loop. The floor creaked as a weight shifted on it. Misery was probably sitting on the ground next to her. Close by.

She continued to stare at the wall. She knew where she was now. This was the first home they’d moved to, back in Bronainise. The house that Misery originally dwelt in. The house where they’d found it for the first time. Though, strangely... if Misery was misery, had she known it long before? Was that why the creature had gotten so attached to her so quickly?

“oh, where are you going?” The voice rose from speaking to singing. Quiet, but in the silence of the dust-filled air, it was the only thing to hear. “to scarborough fair? savory, sage, rosmary and thyme.”

This was an old folk song, wasn’t it? She vaguely remembered singing it in school, when they were little and had a visiting teacher come every week to lead them in music.

“remember me to a lass who lives there, for she was once a true love of mine.”

Okay... that gave her chills. Was this supposed to be a metaphor or something? Was she the ‘true love’? That... didn’t make her feel good. She probably shouldn’t just sit here listening, then.

Misery was a good singer, though.

“and tell her to make me a cambric shirt. savory, sage, rosmary and thyme. without any seam or needlework, and then she shall be a true love of mine.”

She remembered never really understanding this song as a kid. But she remembered that repeating line. Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. All a bunch of plants. It caused her to look up the meaning of them, where she found out they were all a bunch of herbs. That got her curious about how they were used, which got her curious about how food was made, which made her want to be a chef. She never really became one. She was a baker. But she didn’t like that as much, because she had to wake up pretty early. It was also a lot easier to mess up baked goods than a lot of other foods.

“and tell her to wash it in yonder dry well. savory, sage, rosmary and thyme. where no water spuing nor a drop of rain fell, and then she shall be a true love of mine.”

Hm... now that she was listening to the lyrics, they were pretty demanding, weren’t they? Make me a shirt without sewing it, wash it in a dry well, and then you can date me. What was the point of that? The demands left a sour taste in her mouth. Or maybe that was the dryness. Either way, the more she thought about the lyrics, the less she liked them. The less she liked that Misery was singing them.

“and tell her to dry it on yonder thorn. savory, sage, rosmary and thyme. which never bore blossom since adam was born, and then she shall be a true love of mine.”

Stacy sat up, giving in to the sudden urge of action. The hand yanked backwards, the dust from its sweeping dancing down her arm. The floor creaked some more as someone moved backwards across it. “Can you... stop?” she muttered.

“you didn’t like the song?”

“No, it’s a fine song,” Stacy said. “I just... gotta get up now.” She stretched her legs, her knees creaking, causing her to wince.

“why? it’s easier to rest.”

“Yeah... but...” Stacy swallowed. Her throat was dry. She could imagine the skin of her esophagus sticking to itself, the front rubbing against the back. “I’m... thirsty. I need a drink.”

“oh. okay.” The floor creaked again, and she glanced behind her. As she suspected, Misery was gone.

Stacy sighed. She looked around the room some more. She’d done so when she arrived here, but she’d been concerned with other things—

An image of John flashed in her mind. Grinning madly in a way that wasn’t him.

She winced, and tried to push that to the back of her brain as she continued to look around. This was the front room, and it was completely empty of furniture. Even so, she’d recognized this place when she first arrived here... however that happened. Huh. How did she get here?

Again, something flashed in her mind. A green eye.

Another wince. She took a deep breath and walked over to the front door, grabbing the doorknob... which thunked gently and refused to turn. It was locked. If she remembered, something like this happened when she and her kids tried to leave the house the first time. She needed to find the keys. Though, now that she thought about it... she glanced down at the doorknob. She could’ve sworn that there was a way to unlock this door from the inside, a deadbolt that could be turned. But it wasn’t there now. There wasn’t even a keyhole.

She could try to force the door open. She could try to pry open the windows or scream for help. But she had the feeling that wouldn’t work anyway. And though a part of her said she should probably try the windows anyway... it was easier to just turn away.

Maybe there was something in the kitchen. Even though she knew she’d taken all her cups and glasses with her when she left, the sink would still be there. She doubted the water was turned off. So she could take care of her dry mouth, at least.

But upon walking into the kitchen, she stopped shortly after passing through the doorway. There were bottles on the counter, sitting in a puddle of clear liquid. It could be mistaken for water, if it wasn’t for the sharp smell in the air. The sharp, familiar smell.

She stared for a moment. Then, swallowing a lump in her throat, she walked around the counter peninsula, turning so she was always facing the bottles as she went.

“you don’t like it?”

“Wah!” Stacy jumped in surprise at the voice, somehow behind her—always behind her. She instinctively glanced over her shoulder, catching the faintest hint of its tearstained face before it disappeared. “I... what? Wh-why would I like this?”

“why wouldn’t you?” Now Misery’s voice was in front of her. She turned back, and a figure ducked through the archway leading to the dining room. “you said you needed a drink.”

“I... I meant water...” Stacy said slowly. “And you know that, don’t you? I mean... you seem to know what I’m thinking a lot.”

“this is better.”

Stacy shivered. Truthfully, there was a time in her life when she would’ve agreed with that statement. And she felt that same feeling tugging at her again. She’s all alone. At the mercy of a strange creature. Images of her possessed friend flashing in her mind, reminding her how he’d relentlessly pursued her, Mark, and the other four. Reminding her of what happened to those three young adults who’d just... gotten caught up in this. All that blood. There was probably no way out of this house. And she didn’t even have her phone. She’d dropped it back there, and now she was halfway across the world from it.

With all that in mind, why not take a drink?

After a bit of staring, she turned around, looking at the kitchen sink. She reached out and twisted the faucet. Water spilled out, turning the metal basin darker as it washed away the dust covering it. She held out a cupped hand and caught some of the water, quickly gulping it down. Again and again as her dry mouth soaked it up. The front of her shirt got soaked, but she didn’t care.

A straight minute of drinking later, and she finally leaned back, gasping for breath. Alright. Good. Basic needs taken care of. Great. Now... what?

Stacy stared out the kitchen window above the sink. Or she tried to, at least. The glass was too dusty to see anything other than vague colors. So much dust in here... it wasn’t like that before, was it? It couldn’t have gotten so dusty in the years they’d been gone, could it?

Idly, she reached out to swipe her hand through the dust. She managed to get through the surface layer, but there was a deeper layer beneath it that remained unnaturally stuck to the glass. She grabbed the edge of the windowsill and tried to pull and push it, but it wouldn’t budge at all. So. She was trapped. She couldn’t even have a good view.

...

She turned around and looked at the bottles on the counter again.

...

...

Then she lunged forward and grabbed the nearest one, unscrewing the top. Without giving herself time to think about what she’s doing she leaned back and chugged the drink inside. She didn’t care what it was, she knew what it was made of, and that was what was important. The burn in her throat confirmed it.

At first, she coughed, not used to the intensity. Droplets of liquid splattered across the counter. She turned back to the sink, which was still running, and scooped up some more water, gulping it down. Once the heat in her throat had died down, she lifted up the bottle and drank again, going slower this time. Continuing despite the bitter taste. Continuing despite that part of her brain telling her this was a bad idea. Continuing despite everything. Continuing until the bottle was empty.

“you’re welcome.”

Stacy put the bottle down hard, clinking it against the counter. She gasped for breath, the inside of her mouth tingling from the heat and the taste. “Are you happy about that?” she muttered. “I gave in. Is that what you wanted?”

“it’s what you wanted.”

Chills ran down her spine. She looked up, blinking, her vision wavering. “N...no it isn’t.”

“then why’d you do it?”

“That’s not how it works!” Her voice cracked as she screeched. “That’s not how it works at all! Your body—sometimes it wants things you can’t have!”

“you didn’t have to give it what it wanted, not unless your mind also wanted it.”

“That’s not how it works!” Stacy repeated insistently. “Sh-shut up! You don’t know me! Wh-what the hell do you know about me?! You think that you know everything about me, do you?! Just because you lived with me for a bit?!”

“not everything. just enough. the parts of yourself you pretend aren’t there. the parts of yourself that lurk beneath your surface. the parts you are ashamed that you feel.”

Tears sprung to Stacy’s eyes. She snatched up the bottle again and threw it in the voice’s direction. It shattered into pieces that flew in every direction.

“you’re mad,” the voice continued calmly. “you’re mad because you know it, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” she said, her voice choked up.

“i just want to help.”

“Help?! Help?!” She would’ve thrown another bottle if there was one within arm’s reach. “Help with what?! You think—do you think that I want to be miserable?! Nobody wants to be miserable! If I’m ‘ashamed’ of these parts of me, th-the parts of me that you know about, then you should know I don’t want to be like this! I’m supposed to be better! Nobody likes it, I don’t, Mathew and Larkin don’t, nobody likes me when I’m like this! I can’t do this! I—I-I—”

“it’s easier, though, isn’t it?” Misery interrupted.

Her breath hitched. Her vision began to blur. She ran around the counter, stumbling back into the living room, rushing for the door. She grabbed the doorknob again and tried pulling, tried pushing, tried banging her fist against it and screaming. It didn’t work, but she kept hitting the door, kept slamming against it, screaming incoherently, bruising her knuckles, warm tears streaming down her face.

And yet, even through her yelling, she still heard it.

“it’s okay. it’s okay. i’ll still be here when you’re done. i’ll always be here. you know that.”

Soon, her voice grew hoarse, and her arms ached too much to continue. She slumped down to the floor, curling up at the base of the door, crying quietly. Misery hummed gently, and she heard the lyrics in her head. Savory, sage, rosemary, and thyme... Why was it singing that? Why? Why was it doing anything?

Why... couldn’t she stop listening?

After a bit, she drifted off.

* * * * * * * * * *

A door opened in the side of a house, and out walked two boys. The door had not been there before, and once they leave, it is no longer there once again.

Mathew looked around. “Huh. Hey, where are we?” He turned around. “Hey—” His question died in his throat upon seeing that the door had vanished. “What the hell?”

“What?” Larkin turned around, too. “Oh.”

“It’s fine,” Mathew said, despite thinking the opposite. Sure, it was probably good that they spent less time with that freaky stitched-up thing, but he had questions and he wanted them answered! Even though... he didn’t speak German... so he wouldn’t be able to understand anything it said, anyway... ugh. “Let’s just, uh... find somewhere to stay, or something?”

The door had dropped them off in an alleyway between two buildings, near a pair of trash cans on wheels. Mathew and Larkin scooted around them and out into the street. “Huh... does this place look familiar to you?” Larkin asked.

“Yeah, a little,” Mathew muttered.

The street was a bit old-fashioned, made of stone instead of asphalt. But the streetlamps were clearly electrical, and there were modern-looking ads plastered on the side of a bus stop bench. When they’d left Mark and Amy’s house, it had been night. But now it was about midmorning instead., the sky bright except for a few clouds. They must’ve traveled very far. A few people walked past, some of them looking at the kids with mild concern (“where are their parents?”) or suspicion (“are those two up to trouble?”). “Uh... excuse me?” Mathew walked up to the nearest person, a woman standing outside the front door of a shop, looking at her phone. “We’re new in town, and we’re a bit lost. We’re looking for, uh... the hotel where our mom is.”

The woman looked at him, confused. But thankfully, she fell into the ‘concerned’ category instead of the ‘suspicious’ category. “We don’ really have a hotel here in town. I t’ink t’ere’s an old bed and breakfast near the city center, over t’at way.” She pointed to the left.

“O-oh! Yeah, uh, that’s what I meant.” Mathew nodded. “Lark? C’mon.” He reached out, grabbing Larkin’s hand, and the two of them hurried down the street.

“Did you hear her accent?” Larkin asked quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” Mathew mumbled.

“Do you think we’re... back there, then?”

“You mean in Foraois Hollow, the place with the freaky fog cat smile monster? Yeah, I think so. Makes sense, doesn’t it? These guys all seem to know each other.” Mathew groaned. “Why can’t this be simple?”

“They told us it wouldn’t be, remember?” Larkin pointed out. “Those two things in our dream? It literally just happened.”

“Yeah... I know.” Mathew sighed. “I’m ready to deal with it. But it doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it. In fact, I should get to complain more. So I can vent all my feelings and leave behind only the ready-to-deal-with-it part.”

Larkin nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, course it does.” Mathew hitched his backpack further up onto his shoulders and looked up at the sky. “Okay. So. We could try to find that bed and breakfast, or... maybe we could look for that family we stayed with?”

“Yeah, Nick’s family!” Larkin brightened at the possibility. “That’d be great! They were great!”

Mathew laughed. “And I think I left my Switch there. I wonder if they’ve been using it in the meantime.” He paused. “I don’t... really know where we are, though...”

“Maybe we could ask for directions?” Larkin suggested. “Like we did with that lady?”

“We could, but... do you remember Nick’s last name? Cause, uh... I don’t,” Mathew admitted.

Larkin trailed off. His expression dropped into sadness. “Well... uh, maybe we could describe them? O-or, uh, if we get close to their house I’m sure I’d recognize the street or something.”

“Yeah... maybe...” Mathew nodded slowly. He wasn’t so sure about that, but then again, he spent most of the time they were staying here inside playing video games. Man, is this why people always said you should get out of the house? “I guess we can go to the town center area to see if there’s anything familiar.”

“Sounds good.” Larkin reached out and grabbed Mathew’s hand, squeezing it slightly. “Let’s go.”

They hurried through the streets, looking around, taking in everything they were seeing. Mathew really didn’t recognize any of this. But he thought the town looked the same as it had before. It was... what was the word he’d used? Quaint. Yeah, that was it. It was a nice, quiet place. You wouldn’t be able to guess that there was a murderous Cheshire Cat monster lurking in the woods around the town.

Mathew’s skin tingled. People kept staring at him and Larkin. Well... if he remembered correctly, people didn’t show up in Foraois Hollow often. So strangers, like them, were sure to attract attention. Especially because they didn’t have any grown-ups with them. Mathew understood this, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He hated being stared at. He really hoped that people left them alone.

Soon, they reached the town square at the city center (why was it called a square if it was circular?). Mathew remembered when they first arrived here with Mom and John. There had been booths selling food and trinkets back then, but there was no sign of those now. Just benches and small bushes trimmed into conical shapes, a few people passing back and forth or stopping to chat with others. Everyone was very friendly with each other. But they kept glancing at him and Larkin. Mathew’s shoulders instinctively raised defensively. “Okay, uh, let’s sit down for a bit,” he said to Larkin.

“Yeah.” Larkin nodded.

The two of them headed to the nearest empty bench and sat down. Mathew glanced around. “Uh... it really sucks that there aren’t any booths here right now,” he said. “Didn’t Nick’s mom run one?”

“Yeah, with a bunch of yarn.” Larkin smiled.

“I never got why they had that. I mean, I’d get it if they were selling new yarn crafts or something, but it was just yarn. You can get that at a store. So like... were they reselling the yarn they bought somewhere else?”

“No, Nick’s grandma made the yarn,” Larkin said. “Don’t you remember that room in their house with all the big wood things in it? Those were for making yarn. Like, traditionally.”

“Ohhhh. You know, I did think one looked like the wheel from Sleeping Beauty. I never asked about it, though. Huh.” They sat there in silence for a moment. Mathew looked around. “So... do you recognize how to get to their house now?”

“No, not really,” Larkin said. “Uhhh... maybe... that way?” He pointed down one of the streets.

“Should we go there, then?”

Larkin hesitated. “No... I think we should wait. I have this... prickly feeling.”

“Huh?”

“You know, like that feeling when a teacher is standing behind you checking your work,” Larkin explained.

“Oh. The feeling of being watched.” Mathew nodded. “I’ve been feeling that too. It’s cause everyone is staring at us.”

“Really?” Larkin tilted his head. “Why’s everyone staring?”

“Probably because we’re strange unsupervised kids wandering around. People tend to do that, you know. You’ve probably just never realized cause we’ve always... had Mom with us... except for a few times recently. And even then, when we were alone together, we were like... not alone in a crowd, you know?” Mathew paused. “Do you... do you think Mom is here?”

“I dunno, maybe?” Larkin said. “I don’t know why she’d be here... She disappeared, right? But she had that gray thing with her. Would it, like, be able to take her here? I don’t... think so.”

“Yeah, I guess it might want to take her to... wherever it lives. Which... isn’t here.” Mathew glanced around. “Even if it’s friends with the weird forest thing, I think... I think it... it really likes her. It would... go home.” He trailed off. “I hope she’s alright... I... I-I really hope she’s alright.” His eyes got warm. “What... what’s going to happen if... if she’s not? I guess since we’re here, we’ll just... try to find somewhere to stay here? Maybe with Nick and his mom and grandma. They seemed nice. But... I-I don’t know if I want to live here. This place is nice, but... there’s that... fog in the forest. I-I would always be... thinking about it, now that we’re here. And I don’t want to always think about this stuff.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “But those guys in our dreams said that things would get tough now, didn’t they? Maybe they meant that? I... I could do it if I needed. But I don’t want to do that. Life sucks enough. I mean, uh—I mean life is great, but—you know what I mean, right?” He looked over at Larkin.

Larkin... was not looking at him. He was scanning the town square. He even turned around where he was sitting to look behind him.

“Uh... Lark?” Mathew prompted. “Larkin?”

“Huh? Sorry, I was looking around,” Larkin said. “What were you saying?”

“Uh... nothing. Just rambling to myself.” Mathew wasn’t sure if it was relieved to know that Larkin hadn’t been listening. Now that he thought about it, he was a bit embarrassed that he said such personal stuff. “Are you, like, looking for something?”

“I’m trying to figure something out,” Larkin said. “You said that the prickly feeling was us being watched. But... I don’t see anyone looking at us right now. But I still have that feeling.”

“Huh?” Mathew also looked around. Now that he was really paying attention, Larkin was right. No one was actively looking at him. The flow of people going through the square had slowed down, so there were no new people staring at them. And the others sitting down and hanging out must’ve gotten used to them and stopped looking. “Uhhh... huh.”

“I think it’s behind us,” Larkin whispered. “But I think it’s hiding when we go to look.”

“What’s... ‘it’?” Mathew asked quietly. He felt goosebumps pop up on his arms.

“I don’t know...” Larkin admitted. “Something.”

“Hm.” Mathew stared forward for a moment. Then, suddenly, he whipped around, scanning the area. He didn’t try to take in many details, eyes darting around in broad strokes. And in the process, he saw movement on top of one of the building roofs. Something too big to be a bird or even a stray pet. He inhaled sharply as his stomach began to sink. “Hey... last time we were here... the fog thing wasn’t the only creature here, right?”

Larkin nodded slowly.

“There was that thing that controlled Mom... and I wonder... if it’s still here right now.”

“Why do you think that?” Larkin whispered.

“Cause it really liked high places,” Mathew muttered. “Should we... go over there?”

Larkin turned around to look again. “I don’t know. Probably not—oh there’s a guy coming!”

“Huh?” Mathew blinked. Suddenly, a man in an apron was walking out of the door of the building, heading straight for them, his eyes locked on their bench. “Shit! It’s—it’s like with Mom!”

“Do we run?” Larkin hissed.

“I-I don’t know? I mean—we just walked through that crazy doctor’s maze, and it didn’t do anything to us. But—I-I don’t know!” Every bone in his body was telling him to bolt. Even if the thing didn’t mean them any harm, he couldn’t help but remember the strange way their mom acted while it controlled her—it controlled her! Like how it was controlling this strange man now! What if it wanted to control them next?! “Y-yeah, let’s go. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” Larkin stood up. Mathew did as well, grabbing Larkin’s hand, and started backing away, not wanting to take his eyes off the strange man.

The man slowly stopped, tilting his head. He reached into his apron pocket and took out a notepad and a pent. Mathew watched as the stranger wrote something down, tore off the page, and folded it up. He stopped backing up just out of confusion. And that confusion just grew as the stranger looked back up at them and tossed the paper towards them. It glided through the air—it was a paper airplane! In Mathew’s experience, those never flew as far as you intended them to. But this one soared right through the air and landed perfectly—unnaturally—at their feet.

Without hesitating, Larkin leaned down and scooped it up. And as soon as he did that, the stranger turned around and went back into the building. “...fucking weird,” Mathew said bluntly.

“I think it didn’t want to scare us,” Larkin said.

“Well it did a great job,” Mathew drawled sarcastically. His heart was still pounding, his chest rising and falling even as he pretended to be fine.

Larkin shrugged and unfolded the paper airplane. “I thought the airplane was kinda cool... even if those creatures are freaky. Huh. Hey, it’s an address.”

“It is?” Mathew glanced down at the paper. It wasn’t just an address, but a series of directions, with street names and arrows indicating turns, all of it in neat, precise handwriting. “...huh. Should we... go there?”

Larkin paused, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but... I have a feeling about it,” Larkin said slowly. “I recognize this street name here, Bedford Ah-vay.”

“A-V-E, it’s short for avenue,” Mathew said idly. Come to think of it, he vaguely recognized it too now... “Is this... Nick’s house?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Larkin nodded. “So... I’m gonna go. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”

“Oh there’s no way I’m leaving you,” Mathew said fiercely. “Come on, let’s go. We gotta go. The first street is Birde Street.” He looked around. “There.” He took Larkin’s hand and headed there, going quickly so he didn’t have to think.

And not that long later, things started to look familiar. Mathew knew this area. Even after so long, he knew this area. This was definitely where the family lived. Larkin recognized it too, and sped up, hurrying down the lines of identical houses before stopping in front of a specific one. There was a new-looking bike leaning against the front steps. “This is it!” Larkin said excitedly. “I know it is!”

“Hah... cool. Nice.” Mathew smiled hesitantly.

“Come on.” Larkin hurried up to the front door, ringing the doorbell.

Mathew followed him slowly. He should be glad that they’ve found a familiar, probably safe place. He should be happy that they won’t have to worry about finding somewhere to sleep for the night, or getting food to eat. But he couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. After all, that quiet creature sent them here. Even if it didn’t want to hurt them, was it really a good idea to do what it said and go where it wanted? What if it was only herding them here so it knew where they were? So that it could get to them easier? It had gotten to Mom pretty easily when they were staying here.

But... what else could they do?

The front door opened, and an older woman peered out. Looking slightly upwards at first, expecting someone who was the same height or taller than her... then her head tilted down and she looked at Mathew and Larkin. “Oh! Wait, I remember ye lads.”

“You’re Nick’s grandma!” Larkin said. “Right?”

“Yeah, uh, Roisin?” Mathew asked.

The woman nodded. “Aye, t’at’s me. What’re ye doin’ here? An’... where’s your mother and her friend gone?” Her brows drew close in worry. “Ye all left so suddenly... we were afraid you’d gone into th’ woods.”

“Uh... well... kinda? But not like... we didn’t get hurt or anything,” Mathew said slowly.

Roisin’s worry grew. “Did ye make any promises?”

“What? Uh... no?” Mathew blinked.

“Hm...” Roisin hummed.

“We’re alright,” Larkin said. “But... Mom... we don’t... know where she is. A-and John... s-something happened to him... W-we don’t kn-know where he is, either.” His lip trembled a little, but he stood up straight. “Uh, but... we got back here, somehow, so... can we... stay here?”

“Of course.” Roisin’s voice was gentle. “Oh, ye poor t’ings... you look so worn-down. I can see you’ve been t’rough much. Here, come in, come in.” She shuffled to the side.

Larkin headed in, glancing back to make sure Mathew was following him. But Mathew... hesitated. Why had they been brought here? Why had two different things teamed up to guide them to the house? Was there something special about this family, about the... Iontachs? Right, that was their name. Roisin could see things like how Larkin could; Mom had told them as much. Maybe that was important? Or maybe... maybe they were just a convenient place to keep the kids.

Again, though, Mathew wondered what else they could do. They were alone in this town, surrounded by a forest with a malevolent entity living in it. This... was the best option.

Well, at least they had wifi.

Mathew swallowed the lump in his throat and followed Larkin into the house.

* * * * * * * * * *

Stacy woke up with her body aching, her mouth open and once again dry. She groaned and untangled herself from the awkward, clumped position she’d fallen into. One side of her face was cold from where it had been resting against the house’s front door, which felt cool to the touch. She blinked, leaning back. She could see out the windows at this angle, could see clumps of snowflakes drifting down from the sky. Snowflakes, huh? She hadn’t realized the weather had shifted so much.

“welcome back.”

She flinched at the sound of the voice, but took a deep breath. Her head was pounding. She couldn’t let it provoke her or tempt her or... whatever. That would only get herself hurt, and do nothing to it. She had to keep her wits about her. She had to figure out why they were here... and where to go next. “So... this is the same house, right? Your house?”

“one of them. i change every so often.”

“Huh.” Stacy stretched, raising her hands into the air and arching her back. Her spine cracked. You know, she should probably stretch out her legs, too, she couldn’t remember the last time she did that. She turned around, resting her back against the door, staring out at the seemingly empty living room. Her eyes scanned the area instinctively, but she didn’t see anything. She stretched her legs out flat on the floor in front of her and leaned down, fingers reaching for the tips of her shoes. Left, then right. It hurt a little. “So... you just... brought me here for the nostalgia?”

“i wanted to help.”

“And you thought—” She grunted as she stretched again. “—you thought I’d want to be here?”

“it’s a safe place.” Misery’s voice seemed to be coming from the doorway leading into the hallway. “familiar. and while i’m here, nothing can hurt you. not even Ņ¶Ùó£Ă.”

“I guess you did get really... violent when I talked to John the first time,” Stacy muttered. She hesitated. “Is... is he alright?”

“no.”

Stacy flinched. “Okay... obvious question, I guess. But... is he alive? Unharmed?”

“alive, yes. it won’t kill him. he is its connection to this world. unharmed... is subjective.”

“Yeah... there was that... wire...” Stacy shivered. “Wh-what is it doing to him?”

“changing him.”

“Well... yeah, but how? And why?”

“IJ÷ŝçđ is not part of this world like we are. it wants to be, because that would make everything easier. so it is changing him. like... a video game.”

“Huh?”

“when you make the character you play. you need the character to interact with the world. because you are somewhere very different.”

“O...kay... I guess...” Stacy said slowly. “I think I understand that. You... didn’t answer the ‘how’ part of my question, though.”

“the details are hard to explain. Ŋõ©ėĠ is ŖļŶÜŀ to john, îŻÕÑē³Ş his body and alsoČĮŠËĥĽÈŁç, įŗÛġŚª replacing èŴŎù with æåÓŽó, while it øĀĚãĖ ŨŅţĞýê and ØĵŋŝčĪņé«—”

“Okay okay stop!” Stacy pressed her hands to her ears, wincing. Those words she couldn’t understand were making her headache worse. And... she didn’t think she wanted to understand them, anyway. “All I really got from that was ‘his body’ and ‘replacing’, and that... that’s not good. I get that much.”

“maybe it’s less like replacing? and more like... Æļċ÷²ÿ weaving ĎųÖĿđ and ĤĵŽŻĨ¯ůĝŵÙ—”

“I said stop!” Her voice cracked.

“...sorry.” Misery’s voice dropped past a whisper to something so quiet it existed on the edge of hearing and thinking. “i don’t want to hurt you.”

Stacy scoffed. “What are you talking about? Of course you do. Do you think what just happened just now wasn’t a form of hurt?”

“you didn’t have to punch the door.”

“I meant with the drinks. You can’t just... ugh.” Stacy shook her head. “Nevermind. You’re not human, you don’t understand.”

“is it hurting if you want it?”

“...yes,” Stacy whispered. “Yes, it can be.” She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. The door was cold behind her, the chill seeping into her back. “Why do you guys want me? That... friend of yours. San—Sangria. It said something about you guys... needing me? I think? You... want me to help John, or something. Because you’re all scared of the thing that’s claimed him. Because it’s ‘too powerful.’” She rubbed her eyes. “Is that everything?”

“more or less.”

“Then why are we here? Why’d you bring me here? Was it really because this place is safe?”

“more or less.”

Stacy sighed. “Can you please explain some more? I’m really not in the mood for cryptic bullshit.”

Misery paused. Was it... thinking? Considering its options, maybe? “we are... going to bring john somewhere,” it finally said slowly. “then we are going to send you there to meet him. the kids will be there too.”

“The kids?” Stacy straightened. “Matt and Lark? They’re going to be in the middle of this?!”

“not in the middle of this. i just... asked that they be nearby. you don’t want to be away from them. it’s not fair that they’re so far away from you. they love you.”

“So... what, you’re bringing my kids somewhere dangerous as a favor to me?” Stacy asked.

“they’ll be safe, but nearby.”

Stacy stared into the darkness, shocked. She could almost see a face there, but she chose not to focus on it. “I don’t... I want... I’d rather they be... safe. For sure. Than... somewhere that’s... dangerous.”

“but you want them.”

“I... yeah, but...” She shook her head. “Just leave them at Mark and Amy’s house, I’d be fine with that. It’s fine.”

Misery went quiet at that.

The silence stretched on. It made her uneasy, as she shifted position, moving back and forth to try and find the warmest place to sit. “Uh... anyway. What am I supposed to do when John and I are in the same place? He’s... he doesn’t act like himself anymore. I can’t fight back against him! Like, physically. He’s... vicious now.”

“we’ll help with that. we’ll explain more when you’re both together. it’ll be easier that way.”

“Why do people always say that?” Stacy muttered. “I’d be a lot more willing to help you guys if you just told me stuff.”

“...would you?”

“Yes!”

“i don’t believe you.”

Stacy felt all the breath leave her body suddenly. That blunt statement... why did it seem harsh to her? “You don’t believe me?”

“that’s what i said.”

“That’s... what? Why?”

“because you know what i am. you don’t like me. no matter how much explanation we give, you don’t want to help us. none of you would. so it’s easier to stay quiet.”

“I...” Stacy blinked. “Are you... upset?”

“upset?” Misery repeated the question curiously, like it was a new word from a foreign language.

“I... I don’t know. It just... that’s the sort of stuff people would say if they’re upset. And I guess you’re not... a person, exactly. But... I don’t know.” Stacy rested her chin on her knees. “I’m not going to tell you that I like you, because... it’s fucking complicated. You’ve hurt me, and my kids, and you’ve sicced your friends on me and my kids, and it’s all been fucking awful. But... somehow, I... I think you’re telling me the truth, when you say you don’t want to hurt me. But you don’t... understand things, I think. I... I-I don’t like you, but I don’t... dislike you, either. Not... anymore, at least.” She surprised herself as she said that. She wasn’t sure at what point her feelings had changed. When had she stopped being afraid of Misery? Was it... a bad thing, that she’d stopped being afraid of it? After all, even if it didn’t want to hurt her, it still did. Very much, all the time. But... well, she was stuck with it, wasn’t she? It had latched onto her and didn’t want to go away. And maybe, maybe one day she’d figure out a way to get rid of it forever. But today was not that day. And that day probably wasn’t approaching anytime soon, either. “You’re just... there,” she finished lamely. “And I guess I can... deal with you. I guess I can help you. Especially if this will help John in the end.”

Misery was quiet again, for a long time. And just as she was about to say something to fill the silence, it spoke once more. “thank you.”

“I don’t want John to be subjected to that thing,” Stacy muttered. “That’s—that’s my goal. If I can help him, I want to. And besides, that glitchy thing seems... extra bad. So if you guys want to stop it and help John in the process, I’m... fine, I guess.” She paused. “But that doesn’t mean I’m happy that you dragged me back here, or fine with the lack of explanation, either.”

“you’re back here because it’s a shorter trip from here to where we want you to be,” Misery said quietly.

“Okay. Okay. See, that’s a good explanation.” Stacy uncurled, clumsily getting to her feet, wincing as the motion made her headache worse. “And where is that? Where’s this super special place?”

“you’ve been there before. the forest.”

“The...?” She inhaled sharply, her heart leaping into her throat. “You mean... with the fog? A-and the... thing that controlled Colleen? A-a-and... me?”

“it’s not always there. but... it will be there, yes.”

“O-oh.” Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Being controlled like that, unable to move her own body under the presence of that... suffocating will... It was so terrible that she’d blocked it out of her memory.

“the ragdoll won’t bother you. that’s not what it’s there for.”

“The... Ragdoll...” Stacy repeated slowly. “O...okay, then.” She swallowed, trying to push back the fear that made her hands shake. “And... so... wh-when are we leaving for there? Am I supposed to... drive there? Or something?”

“no. it would be easier to take the maze.”

“The... maze. Is...” Another swallow. “Is that the place where the... In Germany, the weird dimension where..."

"yes."

"...okay." Her hands were still shaking. Even more than before. “So... I have to... take that pocket dimension thing. To Foraois Hollow. Where the Ragdoll and the cat thing are waiting.”

“would you prefer to stay here? i can try to convince the others that we don’t have to have you there. they won’t be happy. but all of them like me, so it would work out, i think.”

Stacy was quiet for a while. The idea of the horrors waiting for her... they were enough to make her freeze up. To have her mind wander back to the kitchen, wondering if those bottles are still there. But the thought of staying in this house... Misery here, too... sinking into that hole she’d spent so long climbing out of...

A few moments passed in silence. Then... there was a door on the side of the hallway. Stacy didn’t know how she didn’t see it before, but she saw it now, as it opened. “Verzeihen Sie mir, dass ich versucht habe, es Ihnen leichter zu machen.”

Stacy stiffened slightly as she saw it leave the door. It was taller than she remembered it being, almost unnaturally so. Actually, what was she thinking? Everything about this creature was unnatural, it didn’t just end at the height. She tried not to let her uneasiness show, though, as it peered down at her, single blue eye scanning her appearance. “Ist es das, was du wolltest?”

“don’t be so upset about it,” Misery muttered. “she’s nervous. don’t hold it against her.”

The creature—Notarzt—huffed and folded its arms. “Beeil dich einfach.”

Stacy could guess at what it was saying just from its impatience. She nodded and hurried through the unnatural door. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as she set foot in this maze for the first time in a while. Memories of the last time she was here flashed through her mind. Waking up, finding John again, realizing that her kids had followed her in, fighting that weird... thing made of metal and meat, and then Notarzt kicking John out with the rest of them following. A lot had happened.

Notarzt nodded, satisfied once she’d entered, and went back into the room it came from, closing the door. Stacy tensed as she walked past that door, her stomach crawling with nerves that screamed at her to turn around. But she kept heading forward.

“sorry about that,” Misery whispered. “it’s a bit grumpy that the maze is being used for transportation.”

“...grumpy,” Stacy repeated.

“yes. it’s not used to things like us being in its home. it’s not happy about it, either. the last time one of us was here, it was ÚĊ²É. and things did not go well for notarzt with it here.”

“That glitchy thing... was in here?” Stacy glanced around.

“yes. and it was... hostile to notarzt. which is why notarzt contains the øú÷þĀ it finds.”

“The... huh?” Stacy stopped walking for a bit. “I couldn’t really understand the word you said, but... do you mean that... that metal thing? W-with the green eyes? That we saw last time? Are those... like, pets to the glitchy thing?”

“more like...” Misery paused. “there are no words that i can use that you would understand. the best i can think of is... hands?”

Stacy was quiet at that, just continuing to walk forward. She didn’t really want to continue asking questions; there was this feeling in her gut that she wouldn’t like the answers she found. But, after what felt like ages of walking down this white hallway, through its stained walls, a question bubbled to the surface of her lips. “Is... is that what... it wants to do to John?”

“no,” Misery whispered. “we thought that for a bit. but it has bigger plans for him.”

Her stomach sank further. She didn’t want to look directly at any of the implications that answer left her with. So she simply... would not think at all. She would just keep walking forward. Towards that foggy forest.

The hallway began to curve slightly to the left. Subtly at first, but as they kept going the curve became more and more pronounced, until it felt like she was walking around a very large pillar. Reasonably, the hallway probably should’ve started to close in on itself at one point, and she should have arrived back near where she started. But it did not. It just continued to curve, until finally straightening out for a short length. At the end of this straightaway, there was a door... and Notarzt, waiting. “Ich sagte ‘beeil dich.’”

“it’ll be fine,” Misery whispered from behind Stacy, where it had been this whole time. “don’t worry. this is one of the last things you have to do... and then it will be gone, and everything will be fine. you can be free.”

“What else do I have to do?” Stacy muttered, confused.

“oh, sorry, stacy, i actually wasn’t talking to you.”

Notarzt turned to the side, looking away... almost... embarrassed? “Nur... gehen,” it muttered. It reached over to open the door at the end of the hallway, gesturing for Stacy to go through.

Stacy stared at it for a moment, then turned her attention to the doorway. It opened up onto a small-town street. A place that wouldn’t have looked out of place 200 years ago, if not for the addition of electric street lamps and telephone wires that crossed the sky. For a moment, she felt slightly relieved. She had really, genuinely thought she was going to be dropped off right in the middle of that forest. But in retrospect, that didn’t really make sense. Notarzt’s domain felt like cities, not nature. Of course it wouldn’t manifest a doorway there... where would a doorway fit? She walked forward, then paused a moment, and nodded at Notzarzt. It glanced at her, and jerked its head towards the doorway. So she took a deep breath and stepped through.

The sky above was a bit cloudy, strips of cotton white drifting over the blue. She heard birds singing, and the distant sound of footsteps and bicycle tires on these old cobblestone streets. When she turned around to look at the doorway behind her, naturally, it had disappeared.

There was a hand on her shoulder. “are you okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Stacy nodded slowly. “Uh... what did you mean? When you said ‘you can be free’ to it?”

“notarzt is afraid. fear is a cage.”

Stacy laughed darkly. “Well... I get that, at least.” Hard to think of something so horrifying as being afraid itself. But maybe that just meant the glitchy creature was far worse. And... that creature had her friend in its clutches. The thought of that made her sick, so she put it out of her head. “This is, uh, Foraois Hollow, huh? It... looks like it, at least.”

“yes,” Misery said. “there’s a place for you to stay while you’re here.”

“Huh?”

“the same place you stayed before.”

Stacy’s stomach sank. “You... want me to go back to the Iontachs? But...” She didn’t want to put them in danger.

“you should at least check on them, right?” Misery whispered. “make sure that they’re okay.”

She really didn’t like the implication of that suggestion. Her stomach clenched, and she simply nodded. It was probably a good idea to do that anyway. She would’ve done that anyway. Probably. “Right... I remember where they live. I just... have to... reorient myself.”

Walking out further into the street, she glanced to the left and the right. Foraois Hollow was not a big town, it was pretty easy to get around here. But as she glanced to the left, she encountered an obstacle. She briefly made eye contact with a man as he drove past on his bicycle, and a memory flashed through her mind, a memory that wasn’t hers, but his—of him standing by his father’s bed and saying a tearful goodbye as he passed. Oh. Right. Misery’s “gift.” It had been a minute since she ran into anyone new and had it activated, so she’d nearly forgotten about it.

She took a deep breath, and looked upwards towards the sky, angling her vision so that most people wouldn’t enter her gaze. It was fine. She could navigate like this.

Between her half-remembered knowledge of the town’s layout and her unwillingness to risk looking at anyone too closely, it took her an hour to make her way to familiar sights. What was the Iontachs’ address again? She was pretty sure this was the street, but... did they have anything outside their house to make them identifiable?

After a bit of walking, she stopped, vaguely recognizing one of the houses. Maybe that was it. She walked on over to the door, knocking on the wood. A few moments passed. She danced in place, nervous, until the front door was opened... by an older woman. “Oh!” Stacy gasped as she recognized her. “Roisin!”

“Wah!” Roisin jumped backwards, reflexes surprisingly sharp for her age. She looked shocked as she stared at Stacy’s face.

“Uh... do you... remember me?” Stacy said slowly. A pit began to open up in her stomach. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe the Iontachs didn’t want to see her again. It was her fault, indirectly, that Colleen had been briefly controlled by that Ragdoll thing. Maybe they—

“O’ course I do,” Roisin said, composing herself. “One second.” She turned to the side. “Boys! Your mother! She’s here!”

Stacy blinked, her heart stopping. “Wait what—”

Footsteps rushed towards the door. Roisin stepped to the side, and suddenly Stacy was being tackled. One thing hit her, then a second. “Mooooom!”

“L-Larkin?!” Stacy gasped. “Mathew?!” Her sons—both of them—were wrapping their arms around her, squeezing her tight. Once she processed what she was seeing, she returned the favor, embracing the two of them. “Larkin! Mathew!”

“Moooom!” Larkin whined, keeping his face buried against Stacy. “Mooooom!”

“It’s so good to see you!” Mathew looked up at her. Huh, when did he get so tall? She barely had to glance down to look down into his teary eyes. “We were—we were—w-worried. So worried.”

“We miiiiissed youuuu,” Larkin sobbed.

Stacy’s eyes began to water as well. “I-I missed you a lot. So... so much. A-a lot has happened since I last saw you guys.” She laughed. “But it wasn’t really that long, was it?”

“It’s been aaaagessss!” Larkin said.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Stacy pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m here now. Though... I-I didn’t expect to see you guys here.” She paused. “Especially after I told a certain being that I wanted you to stay safe with Amy.” Her eyes darted to the side, towards Misery’s presence.

“well... by the time you said that, it was too late,” Misery whispered.

“It seems a lot has changed since we las’ saw you, Miss Stacy,” Roisin said. She glanced towards Misery’s direction as well. “Your sons here tried t’ fill me in on t’ings, but we haven’ had much time to talk abou’ it... not to mention, it’s strange how you got here as well, when they said you were in th’ States.”

“Yeah... so much has happened,” Stacy sighed.

“Why don’ you all come in?” Roisin said. “It’s jus’ me in th’ house righ’ now, but I say you can make yourself at home.”

Stacy nodded. “Thanks, Roisin. That would be lovely.”

Though she was relieved and joyful upon seeing her kids again, worry was already starting to climb up from within her. Surely, something dangerous was about to happen here. After all, nothing good could come from the horrors gathering. But for now, she decided to put that out of her mind and enjoy the moment, finally reunited with her family.

* * * * * * * * * *

John ran as far as he could before his legs went limp. And even then, he kept going, pulling himself down the street until he was too exhausted to do so. He barely managed to pull himself into a small side alley between buildings before his body gave up, and he laid there on the cement, staring up at the dark night sky between the gap in the roofs.

There was a gnashing in his brain. Like teeth trying to dig into the matter of his mind. Puncturing occasionally. He winced, and he felt blood trickle down his cheek from his eye. The creature was doing fucking psychic damage to him, retaliating for taking them away from Phoebe and the others. But he didn’t care. Despite how exhausted he was, he still felt in high spirits—or, well, relatively high spirits, considering his situation. He’d actually managed to... stop it. Something that he’d... never been able to do. Sure, it was a small victory, the creature was still in his body, determined to... take it over... But hopefully it wouldn’t go back to that group.

“Nothing to say?” he muttered, continuing to stare upwards.

Silence.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He chuckled a little, then coughed as the motion irritated his dry, breathless throat. “Fuck you.”

“You’ve accomplished nothing.”

He winced. Each syllable felt like the spike of a migraine. “Not true.”

“When I become you, I will make sure to find them,” the voice whispered. “And I will make them suffer. And if you are still here, still watching, you will suffer too.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” John repeated again. “You’re not gonna do that. Because... I’m going to... find some way to stop you.”

The voice giggled. He felt electricity crackle down his spine, and his back arched at the feeling for a second. “Sure you will. How are you going to do that when I felt that fear grip your heart at my threat?”

“I don’t... know,” John said quietly. “But... I can’t just... hold the line forever. I’m going to have to push you back.”

“You’re right. But are you able to do that?”

He didn’t say anything to that. Engaging in this conversation was probably pointless. It was just going to keep needling him like this. Instead, he needed to try and... think of... a plan of action of some kind.

The scope of this task was daunting. It seemed impossible; that was why he’d never bothered to try before. How, exactly, do you become un-possessed? His first thought was some sort of exorcism, but did those actually work? It didn’t feel like they would. Not to mention that if he walked up to a church, looking like he did, and said “you need to exorcise me, I’m possessed,” they probably wouldn’t believe him. If he was lucky, they would just turn him away, and if he was unlucky, he’d get arrested. No, there had to be something else.

What about Mark and Amy? They’d clearly had experience with the unnatural. As painful as it was, thinking about going to see them again when they wouldn’t recognize him, maybe it was a shot? But he was... pretty far away by now. He wasn’t sure... where he was, not really, he had been hopping trains and buses randomly without paying any attention to state lines. But it had taken him ages to get here, so it would probably take him ages to get back. Maybe he could keep that idea on the backburner. Come back to it if he didn’t think of anything else. Though... if Mark and Amy knew about these things, knew about how to fight them, maybe there were other people like them. Other people like—

The scene of bloody bodies flashed through his mind again. He cried out in response.

That group... those people... they were so young. So... in over their heads, when it came to him, and to this creature.

No... he had to be careful with this. If he asked for help from the wrong people, the same thing would just happen again. Maybe... he could... try to do something by himself? That seemed difficult, though, when he wasn’t even fully in control of his own body. He could try—he had to try, if it came down to just him. But was there anyone out there who could help him with this?

Whoever it was, they’d need to be experienced in these matters. Ideally, experienced with ò¢čĎŻ, too. But the only people he could think of who fit those qualifications were Stacy and her kids. And there was no way he was bringing Łà§¨ů close to Mathew again after it had already targeted him once. But besides those two, the only ones who had experience with this creature... were other creatures.

...ages ago, that red-hooded thing had found him, out in the middle of nowhere. It said that they all really wanted to see Ķб¾å get its due. “We’ll have to talk,” it said. “All of us. I’ll be back.” And then... it left, and he hadn’t seen it again since.

...

...no. No, that was a really stupid idea.

He was not having that idea. He was ignoring it.

But... could he think of another one?

Lying in place, he continued to stare towards the sky and think, trying to come up with something he could do about all this.

* * * * * * * * * *

“It sounds like all of ye ‘ve been t’rough a lot since we last saw ye. The boys have been tellin’ Colleen an’ me a lot, but it’s diff’rent hearin’ it from you.”

Stacy blew on the surface of the teacup, then took a sip. Roisin had insisted on setting her down for a cup, and though Stacy didn’t really drink tea that often, she just couldn’t refuse. “It’s probably different seeing it too, for you, right?” she said “I mean... you’re like Larkin, and Mark. You can, uh... see stuff, right? I-I know that I look pretty different... through their eyes. Not to mention...” She trailed off. She could feel Misery beside her, leaning onto the back of the armchair she was sitting in.

“It is a bit o’ a shock,” Roisin acknowledged. “T’is Misery creature looks right hauntin’. But I’ve lived t’rough a lot meself, you know. I may not ‘ve seen somet’ing like it before, but I’ve learned not t’ let t’is stuff bother me.”

Larkin and Mathew were in the room too, both of them sharing the sofa. Roisin had poured tea for them too, but neither of them had touched it. They just kept looking at Stacy, like they co’ldn't believe they were seeing her. Mathew had the faintest smile on his face, despite everything they’ve been through. It really messed with his ‘brooding teen’ image, so he must not have been aware he was doing it. And Larkin kept kicking his feet excitedly.

Roisin took a sip of her own tea. “Now... d’you know why you’ve been called back here? You’re sure you didn’ make any promises to anyt’ing in the woods?”

“I’m sure,” Stacy said. “I didn’t... have time to.” She shuddered, remembering the feeling of being controlled by that... Ragdoll creature. Apparently that’s what it was called. “I know why we’re back... sort of. These things won’t give us any explanations.”

“Yeah, they’re real annoying that way,” Mathew muttered.

“Yeah! Hear that?” Larkin glanced at Misery as he said that. Stacy felt its presence shift, and imagined it was ducking out of sight. Even a child’s gaze was apparently too much for it.

“But, um, basically... apparently, I’m here to help John,” Stacy said slowly. “Somehow. Those details still aren’t being shared. Do you remember John? Apparently... people tend to forget him. I think it’s a whole... thing about him.”

“I remember him,” Roisin agreed. “T’ough as ye know, I’m a bit special. You’d better be served askin’ Colleen t’at question, if you want t’ understand how t’is forgettin’ t’ing works.”

“When’s she going to be back from work, anyway?” Stacy asked.

“Oh, it’ll be a minute. She’s been workin’ long shifts lately. Barely any time to run the yarn booth. But she likes to walk Nick back from school, so she’ll be here for t’at, even if jus’ for a moment.” Roisin takes another sip of tea. “Hmm... you have t’is Misery here wit’ you now. And t’ings are calm for a moment. T’is seems as good a time as any to ask for details abou’ your purpose here.”

“...right. Good idea.” Stacy nodded slowly. “Um... well...” It felt awkward to speak to midair, but she knew Misery would disappear if she turned to look at it. “You heard her. Can you finally explain what I need to do to help John? Why I’m here... at all?”

Misery was silent for a while. Then it responded in a voice on the edge of sound and thought. “that man... cares a lot for you. and you care a lot for him. maybe... you could get close to him. and maybe he would let you.”

“Get... close to him?” Stacy repeated. “You... you want me to... what, convince him not to be possessed?”

“You’re supposed to... power of friendship this?” Mathew raised an eyebrow, looking doubtful. “No way. These things don’t care about stuff like friendship.”

“i like having friends a lot, actually,” Misery whispered.

A shiver crept down Stacy’s spine, and she shivered. “I-I don’t know if I can... I want to believe that I can help John, but the last time I tried to talk to him through this possession, it... went really badly. How will this be any different?”

“because we’ll be there, too,” Misery said. “you just have to get close enough. we can grab ĿÐ¯è¦ from there, and take care of everything.”

Stacy drummed her fingers on the ceramic of the teacup. She wasn’t sure about all this. Or... was it that she wasn’t sure in herself?

“You can do it, Mom,” Larkin whispered.

She looked over at him and Mathew, and took a deep breath. “I guess I can try.” She turned very slightly towards Misery. “If you and those... others are going to get rid of that glitchy thing... I guess I can try. To help John.”

“we’ll stop it,” Misery said. “i promise.”

“So... now what are your plans, t’en?” Roisin asked.

“I think... we just have to wait for the right moment now,” Stacy said. “Right?” Beside her, Misery whispered an “mmhm” in confirmation.

“Well...” Roisin smiled. “Until t’en, our house can be open for ye. Assumin’ Colleen agrees. At the very least, ye can stay until she comes back.”

“Thank you so much, Roisin.” Stacy smiled.

The enormity of the task stretching before her seemed daunting. Could she, of all people, really pull John out of this mess? How? And what are the other creatures going to do to the glitchy one once it was free of John? Could they even do anything to each other? It would be useless if John fell right back into its clutches once he was free.

“we’ll explain more later,” Misery whispered. “get settled in first. spend some time with them. i know you missed them.”

Stacy looked at Mathew and Larkin. Well... it was right about that, at least. “So... what have you guys been up to while I’ve been doing all this?”

* * * * * * * * * *

At some point, John must’ve fallen asleep, because he opened his eye to a watery blue sky, streaked with white clouds like someone had dragged a paintbrush across a canvas. There was a muscle twitching in his arms, sending strange zaps through his nerve. Not painful, but they made him wince anyway. He turned his head to the side, looking at his right arm extending away from him and across the ground. His thumb was moving slightly. He tried to get it to stop... but it didn’t.

Fear surged through him, waking him back up. This didn’t feel like something normal. It felt like... like it was trying to control him again.

He sat up, glanced around, and grabbed onto a nearby drain pipe to help haul himself to his feet. His legs wobbled, and for a moment, a few more of those strange zaps traveled up through them and into his spine. He gasped in response. What is this? This is new!

Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t good. He had to do something! But... in all the time he’d spent lying there, he hadn’t come up with a clear, good idea. He couldn’t think of any allies to reach to, or any places to go that might have information or tools that could help him. He briefly considered going back to that library where he’d first run into those young people, trying to find some research there, but would that be suspicious? After all, the last time he’d been there, he’d caused a scene in the computer lab. His second-best thought was to go to another, larger library that might have more information. But even then, would he really find anything about this creature written in books?

It felt... like he was in a dead end. Like no matter where he looked, there was nothing to help him. And when his own body was turning against him, it seemed impossible to merely fight off this creature under his own power.

But... if he didn’t try something, if he merely held the line, how much longer until his strength gave out? Even if he didn’t discover anything, even if he lost... he’d much rather lose on the offense than lose on the defense. He owed it to everyone to do that. To Stacy and the boys, to Mark and Amy, to the four young people, to Phoebe and her friends.

Slowly, he walked out onto the street, looking back and forth. It was dark last night, so he had no idea where he ended up. But hopefully, that meant it was just as disoriented. He decided to head left impulsively, walking down the street in a lurching manner. It was really hard to adjust to those strange zaps in his legs.

If he couldn’t figure out a long-term goal, he could at least figure out a short-term goal. He needed food. And he doubted he would find any in this area. No money, so he might have to ask for someone to spot him, or try getting food from less-than-sanitary locations—

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

John yelped, staggering to a stop.

“While you were sleeping, I’ve been working, you know. Have you felt any changes?”

The strange nerve zaps. He knew that was because of the voice, but... the way it said it had been working... it felt sinister. Even more so than usual.

“It won’t be long now, you know,” the voice whispered. “I will be you soon. You’re moving freely now because it’s the calm before the storm. When I’ve got everything in place, you won’t be able to stand against me anymore. One day, your struggles will simply cease. I wonder if you will blink out like a lightbulb being flipped off. Or if you will run in the background, observing what I do as you. I hope it is the latter. I hope you see what I do to those you care about, if only for a little bit.”

His hands were shaking, and his body suddenly felt very hot as his heart began to pound. Those words rattled him. But he tried to continue forward, moving in that same lurching way. He was going to stop this voice. He had to.

“How? You don’t have any ideas how to stop me. Only the seed of one, and you refuse to water that to let it grow.”

Panic so sharp it felt like a stab.

John stopped walking again. He hadn’t said anything. But it had responded to... responded to his...

“That’s right,” the voice said quietly. It didn’t sound like it was coming from outside. It sounded like it was within his mind... coming from the same place his thoughts did. “You can’t hide anything from me anymore. I can see now. And why shouldn’t I be able to? Your brain is running electrical currents. Some of them are yours, and some of them are mine. We exist in the same space now.” It giggled. “It won’t be long now.”

“Shut up,” John muttered, and pushed himself to start stumbling along once more.

“You’re afraid,” the voice said. “I don’t need to taste your thoughts to know that.”

“I’m going to stop you,” John said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care what happens to me. I’m going to stop you. Y-you won’t control me any longer.”

“How far will you go for that, then?” the voice asked. “What if you can’t find a normal way to stop me? I don’t think there’s a way to unentangle us by now... I’ve been very careful, after all.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” John whispered. “The world is a big place. There’s going to be a way.”

“What if there isn’t?”

“That doesn’t matter!” John snapped. “I’m still going to stop you!”

“Even if you have to die for it?”

He froze. He didn’t want to, but the voice kept saying things that shocked him into stillness. “...what?” he whispered.

“What if you have to die?” the voice asked quietly. “What if that’s the only way to stop me? Would you go through with that?”

John opened his mouth, but he no words came out. His heart was pounding, and he could feel it in his neck, the pulse sending warm pain through the injury there. “I don’t... I-I don’t... want... to...”

“It’s never mattered what you’ve wanted.”

John’s limbs tensed, the muscles bunching and shifting from a mind not his own.

“And it never f͡uck̡ìng̸ ̀w̢il̷l̡.”

His body threw itself forward, and he cried out as he fell to the ground, landing hard as his arms didn’t bother to try and catch himself. Pain burst in his nose, and he tasted copper. His chin and jaw ached from being snapped upwards.

“So what if that’s the only way?” the voice asked. “Would you leave this world if it meant taking me with you? Or are you too scared?”

John lifted his head, wiping his face on his sleeve. More red joined the brown stains already crusted on there. He didn’t say anything in response... because he knew that it was already watching as his mind worked out the possibilities.

He didn’t believe that was the only way to stop the voice for good. Maybe he would, one day, if he exhausted all options. But right now? No. He wouldn’t do that. Yet, some part of him still dwelled on the possibility that he might one day realize there was no other way. If that was the case... would he go through with that? After all, this creature would use his body to hurt as many people as it could. If he somehow rendered it unusable... But then, that would still be the end for him, wouldn’t it? An ending even more final than that. He’d seen a lot in his wanderings, but found nothing that would reverse death.

...it wasn’t fear keeping him from going through with that. Far from it. He didn’t believe that doing that would be a victory for anyone. It would just mean that the voice had driven him to his lowest point. If anything, that would be it getting the last laugh.

“So you’d stay alive to spite me?” the voice asked. “Even if you being alive means harm for everyone else?”

“...no,” John muttered. It wasn’t just spite.

It was...

Hope, wasn’t it?

Because as long as he was moving, as long as he was breathing, there was a chance that everything would turn out alright. And that chance was what kept him going.

But part of him still really wanted to spite this thing. And if it knew about his thoughts, if it knew about that idea he’d had and then stopped wanting to look at... how would it react if he actually went through with that?

John clambered to his feet. He looked around him. This street was pretty empty, even though it was prime business hours. The shops and offices here clearly weren’t busy, if any of them were even open at all. It felt crazy to do what he was about to do.

“...you’re not actually serious, are you?” the voice asked. It didn’t sound afraid, but it sounded... doubtful. And that made John want to do this even more.

“Hey!” he suddenly shouted. “Hey, you red hooded bastard! Are you here?!”

“Are you crazy?!” the voice hissed. “There’s no way it will just happen to be in the same area as you! Do you know how low those odds are?!”

“I don’t care!” John snapped. He stumbled forward, almost stepping into the street before he stopped, wrapping his arm around the pole of a speed limit sign. “You said we’d meet again, didn’t you?! Well I haven’t seen you in ages! Where the fuck are you?!” He glared up at the sky, then looked around the street. “You’d think you’d be keeping an eye on this asshole, even if you don’t care about me! Do you know what it’s doing?! If you do, why the hell aren’t you here?! This is bad for you too! Right?!”

His words bounced against his concrete and brick surroundings, seemingly dying in the air.

“You’re desperate,” the voice commented. “Fine. This might be fun to watch.”

“You shut up!” John shuddered. “And you!” He looked down the street, to the left first, then to the right. “If you’re fucking here, say something! I don’t believe you’d just let this thing run around freely! Well, if it gets me, that’s what it’s going to do! You have to know that! Neither of us want that to happen! So guess what?! If you show up right now, maybe you can fucking do something! Maybe we can do something together! But if you try to fucking kill me—which you might not, because you’re a coward—you should know I’ll fight back! I hit you in the face with a shovel before! I’ll do it again!”

Something laughed behind him. “Usually, you don’t want to threaten people to get them to show themselves to you. That tends to do the opposite effect, especially when you don’t have anything to fulfill that threat with.”

John spun around, staggering, leaning against the sign post for support.

There. A figure in a red hood. It was all too familiar in its unfamiliarity. The hidden face, the unnatural, angular shape of its body. It had its arms folded in a mockery of a casual pose, but it was standing straight up at attention. And somehow, that seemed... tense.

The second he saw it, he felt an unexpected rush of emotion in his chest. Not anything positive, not by a long shot. But instead, it was a wet anger, rage tinged by a deeper, heavier feeling. “Is this what you knew my claim was?” he whispered. “Did you know this was happening to me, even back then, the last time we talked?”

“...yes,” it said.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!” John screeched.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He couldn’t see its eyes, but he felt its gaze narrow in on him. “You weren’t in a fit state to hear that. Knowing its plans would’ve just sank you farther into despair. And that would’ve made it easier for «őŶãŴµ.”

John clenched his jaw in anger—then winced as that caused pain to shoot through the bone. Some of it from the fall, some of it... feeling like something else. “Well... I don’t want to sink into despair now. So can you, and those others... do something about this?”

“We already are,” the figure said. “In fact, I’ve been sent to find you.”

“...so you weren’t watching me this whole time, then?” John asked quietly.

It shook its head.

John’s shoulders slumped. Somehow, that felt both like a relief and a betrayal. “Well... you found me now. How... did you do that? Did you just wander around America until you found me?”

“No, I was in the area for other reasons,” it said vaguely.

“What reasons?” John narrowed his eye.

“Reasons having to do with your friend Stacy,” it said, and it smiled. “I was told you were in the area told.”

“...was told...” John repeated slowly. “You mean... by... that thing that attached itself to her now?”

It nodded. “We have ways of reaching out to each other that you tiny ones don’t. Not that you’ll be a tiny one for much longer, in all likelihood.”

He felt the back of his mind... stretch. Like a soda can expanding from the pressure of what was inside. He shuddered, feeling nauseous and queasy from the sensation. “What... are you doing... here, then?” he whispered, trying to ignore that sensation. “Why did you come to get me?”

“We have a plan to get rid of Ï٤¥Ĥ, and as you can probably guess, that involves you,” it said. “Now that you’re so connected. I’d tell you more, but I know it can hear me now, can’t it? Best to keep the details a secret.”

“Fair,” John mumbled. For once, he agreed with its reasoning.

“Are you ready to follow me?” it asked.

John narrowed his eye. “What if... it tries to attack you? Are you... prepared for that?”

“I don’t think it could hurt me too badly right now,” it said. “Not until you’re no longer... tiny. Is that all? Are you ready to follow me? You’re the one who called out to me, you know. I’d be surprised if you changed your mind.”

He hesitated. “N...no, I... didn’t change my mind.” He pushed away from the sign post. It was hard to stand up straight. His spine didn’t feel like it supported that anymore. So he ended up hunching forward for a moment, before readjusting to a posture that leaned to the side. “Where are we going?”

“This way.” It started walking away, but kept looking towards John as it moved. He didn’t perceive its neck moving in anyway, it just... kept... looking towards him. Even as its body turned. But its head did not twist. John shivered a bit, but tried to put this out of his mind as he slowly followed it down the street.

“...how do you know Sangria can be trusted?” the voice whispered in his mind.

He started slightly at the sound of it speaking once again. Surprise passed through his mind; he didn’t know that was the red hooded one’s name. But then it was overtaken by anger.

“I’m not trying to stop you from following it,” the voice said. “I don’t think whatever plan it has is going to be enough to stop me. So I won’t waste my effort on that.”

He didn’t believe the voice. Why would he?

“Fine, but how do you know it’ll be trusted to help you?” the voice continued. “I know it well. It doesn’t care about you ‘tiny ones’. There is no greater source of enjoyment for it than taking one human and ruining their life. Something like that... it doesn’t have your best interests in heart. There’s no way it can. How do you know it’s not just leading you to your death?”

He hesitated, doubt creeping into his heart at that. But... that was probably what the voice wanted. It wanted him to doubt what he was doing, because then it could worm its way in. And if this thing, this Sangria, really had a plan to stop it, he doubted that it would really take the risk of letting that happen. So he had to keep going. He couldn’t hesitate.

“Fine,” it hissed. “But you’re taking your life into your own hands, you know. I thought you said you didn’t want to die.”

For a second, he stumbled. Anger flared again, but he breathed through it. That was... actually a good point. He wasn’t going to listen to the voice, but he was going to... be cautious. Not reckless.

Sangria paused, and ducked to the side, opening a door in the side of a building. “Here, we’ll take a shortcut.”

John just stared at it as it held the door open. Suspicion crept around his heart. “You... go in first.”

“Hm?” Sangria tilted its head. “Well... okay, I suppose.” It walked through the door into the building, still holding the door open for him, and stopped on the other side. “I just want to make sure you’re coming. All this will be for nothing if ċ¼×Æţ suddenly takes over and you run away.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just reached out and grabbed the door, holding it open. Sangria stepped backwards so there was room for him to walk into the space beyond, which he did. But he kept his hand out, keeping the door ajar behind him, just in case. And he looked around...

...this hallway was familiar.

The white stained walls, illuminated by sick yellow lighting.

He had been here before... and the fact that he was here again... it confused him. And that confusion scared him. “...what?” he whispered.

“Shortcut,” Sangria said, and he perceived a grin on its face.

“Not a good shortcut,” John said. “Wherever we’re going, we can get there some other way. This thing doesn’t want me here.” He turned around, pushing the door further open—

There was no door.

His thoughts stalled, grinding against each other at the confusion. He... he’d held it open on purpose, to prevent something like this from happening. He could still feel the wood of the door beneath his palm. Maybe it was an illusion? He took a few steps forward, but he didn’t walk back out onto the street.

“Sorry, we’re short on time,” Sangria said. “This is the only option.”

John turned back to look at it. “I know you have different ways of traveling besides this! You can’t use one of those?!”

“None of them would work on you right now,” Sangria said, still grinning.

“Well—” John started to protest, but then stopped, hearing something.

Footsteps rushed towards him from behind.

He started to spin around, but he wasn’t fast enough. Something hit him on the back of his head, and his vision flashed white as he staggered forward, falling onto his knees. Words half-formed in his throat, but they couldn’t be completed.

“I don’t know!” Larkin threw his hands in the air, still lying down on his bed. “I just have a weird feeling! I’ve never felt this feeling before, I think. It’s like... like how spiders sitting on a web can feel vibrations in the web strands.”

“...they can do that?” Mathew blinked.

“Yeah, it was in a book Dad read to me,” Larkin said. “All the characters were bugs.” He smiled slightly. “It was a good book. But I’m probably too old for it now.”

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe.” Mathew looked back at the tablet, trying to tamp down the feelings that rose up within him whenever he thought about their dad and their life before moving to England. Sure, life now was scary, but sometimes he preferred it to how he felt before. Only sometimes, though. He stared at the screen blankly, then put it down and stood up from the chair where he was sitting. “I’m gonna go get a snack.”

“I’m coming with you!” Larkin rolled off the be and got to his feet.

The two of them head down the hallway to the living room—and planning to go to the kitchen from there. But instead, they both slowed to a stop, hearing Amy’s voice coming from the living room. At first, Mathew was ready to just walk past her into the kitchen, but the tone of her voice stopped him, and Larkin stopped when he did. Neither of them intended to eavesdrop. It just sort of happened.

“Well that doesn’t just happen, really, even in the world we live in!” Amy was on the phone, pacing back and forth. “Something must’ve done that to her. Maybe that thing with her took her away?” She paused. “Well we don’t really know the full extent of its powers, only what she knew—knows.” Another pause. “I... I-I don’t know. We don’t have any way to track her down, do we? There’s that necklace you two had, but...” A long stint of quiet. “No, you’re right. I-I wasn’t saying we give up. But... I don’t know anything we could do right now. I guess... I could look at our stuff?”

Mathew got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He glanced at Larkin in wide-eyed alarm, but Larkin just looked confused. He wasn’t drawing the same conclusions he brother was. Suddenly feeling a need to not listen to this, Mathew grabbed Larkin and pulled him backwards into the nearby bathroom. “Hey wait what—?!” Larkin gasped.

Quickly shutting the door, Mathew looked at Larkin. “I think she was talking about Mom!” he hissed.

“Mom?” Larkin blinked.

“Yeah! I think—I-I think something happened to her. Did you hear what Amy was saying? Maybe that gray thing took her away!”

“Oh!” Larkin gasped. “Are... a-are you sure?” He grabbed onto Mathew’s arm and squeezed.

“I... I-I guess not,” Mathew admitted. “But that’s what it sounded like. She even mentioned the necklace Mom and Mark took to find John with.”

Larkin was quiet for a moment. He looked down, his eyes flicking back and forth. “I... Was my... was that what the feeling meant...?” he whispered. “Did I... figure it out?”

“I don’t know... maybe?” Mathew said. “You already know a bunch of weird shit.” He instinctively glanced around for adults that might scold him for swearing.

“But... if something happened to Mom...” Larkin trailed off, his voice trembling a little.

Mathew also felt his stomach start to sink. Sink right into a pool of dread, soaking up all the dread like a bucket lowered into a well. But he shook his head. “Mom is... great. She’s done a lot of hard things. A-and it’s all worked out in the past. She even managed to get past that one monster that controlled her, right? In Ireland? Remember?”

Even as he said that, Mathew remembered that they’d only really gotten out of that because of John, who was now hurting and probably in the hands of that glitchy horror. But Larkin’s posture softened, and he nodded, reassured. “Y-yeah. That was... bad. But we’re still here. So... I-I guess it’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah, it is.” Mathew grabbed Larkin by the shoulders and squeezed them. “It’s gonna be okay. Whatever happened to Mom, she can get through it. And she’ll be back before you know it.”

“Mm-hm.” Larkin nodded. “But... you know, it might be a while.” He paused. “Should we... go look for her or something?”

“I...uh...” Mathew paused. “I think we should wait to find out what happened. Amy’s probably gonna tell us all about it soon. We can come up with something then.”

“Good idea.” Larkin nodded again. “Uh... snack?”

“Snack, right.” Mathew wasn’t actually that hungry anymore. But it would be good to think about something else for a bit. And Larkin seemed to want it. “But, uh, let’s wait for Amy to go or something. It’d just be weird if we ran into her right away.”

They stuck their heads out of the bathroom door, peering down the hallway towards the living room. Amy continued to pace for a while, even after hanging up. Her expression was drawn and worried. After a bit, she sighed, whispered “Fuck,” under her breath, and retreated to her bedroom.

The two boys snuck out after she went back there, heading over to the kitchen. Mark and Amy didn’t have too many sweets—apparently Mark had beef with artificial food coloring—so they helped themselves to some oranges from the fruit drawer in the fridge. They ate silently.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock in the kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Amy asked Mathew and Larkin what they wanted to order for dinner. “I don’t really feel like cooking,” she explained with a slight smile, but Mathew couldn’t help but be a bit suspicious. He felt like she was trying to get them in a good mood. After all, that night, Stacy had done the same thing. She’d ordered pizza, sat them down, and explained why their dad didn’t come home. Larkin had cried, and so had Stacy, but Mathew remembered just sitting there, staring at the kitchen floor. He tried to make himself cry. Like they were. But he couldn’t/

With that in mind, even though Larkin asked for pizza, Mathew vehemently rejected that. So they settled for Chinese food. And once the food arrived... Mathew’s suspicions were proven right. Amy sat down, and told the boys that she’d gotten a call from Mark. The two of them had found John, but it all went wrong, and he’d run away. Shortly after that, Stacy vanished into thin air. Mark had no idea where she was.

Mathew didn’t cry. Larkin didn’t either. They just sat and listened diligently, taking it in. Mom would be alright. She had to be alright.

“So... Mark’s going to stay over there for a little while longer,” Amy said quietly. “He’ll do some more searching around. I’ll see if we have... anything to help here.” She paused. “Are you two... How do you two feel?”

“I mean... fine, I guess,” Mathew mumbled.

“Mom’s done a lot of hard things, but it all worked out before,” Larkin said. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna keep thinking that she’ll be alright.” He kicked his feet. “And also, uh, if it was the thing that’s with her that made her disappear, I don’t think it’ll do anything to her. It likes her, and us, too.” He paused. “I think... I think it killed my teacher.”

Amy choked in surprise.

“Huh?” Mathew looked confused.

“Yeah, there was one teacher who was really mean to me back in, uhhh... I don’t remember the name of it, but the first city we lived in,” Larkin said.

“Oh yeah... you complained about her,” Mathew said. “In Bronainise. Something happened to her?”

“Mm-hmm.” Larkin nodded. “It was weird, they didn’t really tell us what happened. But I heard other kids talking about it cause they found out, and that’s how I found out.” He paused. “I dunno how I really feel about that... but I think the gray thing did it. Somehow. Because she was being mean to me.” He paused, then shrugged. “So I don’t think it’d hurt Mom.”

“...o-okay,” Amy said slowly. “But, uh... if you two need anything, let me know, right? Even if I can’t do it myself, I can call Ethan to come over and help.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” Mathew nodded slowly. He liked Ethan, he was funny—though he’d never tell him that to his face. “Anyway, uh...” He picked up one of the dumplings he ordered and shoved it in his mouth.

“Right, right.” Amy got the message. “Let’s just... eat up.” She smiled awkwardly and returned to her noodles. For a moment, all that they heard was the rustling of paper dishes and the ticking of the clock in the dining room. Then she looked up again. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

“Yeah, we know!” Mathew snapped. “Shut up!”

“Oh. O-okay, yeah, uh... yeah. Sorry.” Amy looked back down.

Mathew felt a bit bad for that. But most of him didn’t have room to care with all the anger filling up inside him. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so annoyed, he just was. That happened a lot with him. It happened all the time, even.

Once he finished his food, he mumbled, “Sorry,” and stood up, dropping his trash in the garbage and hurrying back to their room.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day, he woke up, but he didn’t actually get up, just laid in bed with his eyes closed. Larkin did get up, and he heard him moving around idly. He watched a couple YouTube videos on low volume on the tablet for a while, probably assuming that Mathew was asleep and not wanting to wake him up. Then he gave up on that. Mathew peeked out from the blankets and saw him drawing for a while, humming to himself. Then Larkin got up and left, leaving Mathew alone in the room.

He was pretty hungry. He should probably get up and go get some breakfast. Even just grabbing a Pop-Tart or something—wait, no, Mark and Amy didn’t have Pop-Tarts. Apparently they didn’t like them. So he’d have to make some toast instead. But that was a lot of work... maybe he could just eat some cereal straight from the box? Or... he could just keep lying here. Yeah. That was easiest.

His mind began to wander. He remembered that he acted this way a lot after what happened to their dad. He wanted to lie in bed all the time. But he couldn’t always do it, since he had school and stuff. And sometimes, Stacy didn’t even make food. She spent a lot of time lying in her bed, too. Larkin didn’t, though. Larkin was always up, always doing stuff... except for using the stove, which he couldn’t figure out. Except for going to school, which he couldn’t do on his own. So, back then, Mathew got up even though he didn’t want to, to make food and make sure that Larkin took the bus to school, and a bunch of other stuff, too.

After a while, Stacy got up and started doing all that stuff again, meaning that Mathew could safely return to bed. He could stay there, playing games, trying not to feel that weird feeling in his stomach. He got up to dye his hair, eventually. He saw a video game character with a dark streak in their hair, and it just felt... right, in a way. And from then on, he started getting up more and more. Until they moved, and things started feeling weird again—and then they got caught up in all this horrible, terrifying stuff, and that was different, but... it didn’t give him time to lay in bed.

Was that a bad thing? Or a good thing? He wasn’t sure. And he didn’t want to think about it right now. He just wanted to lie here, listening to the faint ticking of the clock...

The... ticking. Of the clock.

Mathew frowned, pulling the covers down. He looked at the only clock in the room, the one on the nearby nightstand... a digital clock.

Where was the ticking coming from...?

Slowly, Mathew got out of bed, turning his head and listening to try and find the source of the ticking. After a bit of twirling and walking, he figured out that the ticking was coming from the wall. Up high, about maybe six feet off the ground? Leaving only a foot and a half remaining before the ceiling. That seemed like the perfect height to hang a clock, actually.

Mathew stared at the spot for a while. He raised his hand, reaching out to touch the spot on the wall... but then he stopped. That probably wasn’t a good idea. Interacting with the weird stuff was what caused that glitchy creature to come after him. It would probably be better to just ignore it.

But he didn’t like being in the room with the weird ticking. So he got up, and finally left the room. Maybe he’d watch TV or something.

He walked down the hall to the living room, and found Larkin already there. “Hi Mat!” he said, smiling as he looked up from the coloring book he was working on. “Look what Amy bought me. It has even tinier drawings.” He held up the book to show off how intricate the coloring designs were in this one. “I told her I got bored of kiddie ones a long time ago so she gave me a grown-up coloring book. Did you know those were a thing?”

“Uh, no, I didn’t, Lark.” Mathew sat down on the sofa.

“Are you hungry?” Larkin asked. “Do you want lunch? I can make a sandwich, Amy said I could use a spoon to spread the peanut butter and jelly.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mathew said idly.

“Alright! I’ll be right back.” Larkin got up and walked over to the kitchen, leaving Mathew alone.

Alone in silence.

Except... for a ticking sound.

Mathew inhaled sharply once he realized what he was hearing. He’d been reaching for the remote, but now he froze, listening. Maybe there was a clock in here. There had to be a clock in here, right? He got up, once again looking around. Yeah, there was a clock on the wall right there! Relieved, Mathew walked towards it, wondering if he had some way to muffle the ticking.

...but the ticking didn’t get louder as he approached the clock.

Mathew slowed down. No, he was mistaken. He should just—just check. He hurried forward to the clock, reaching up and taking it off the wall. It was a modern design, with the second hand moving smoothly instead of one number at a time. Though there weren’t any numbers on the face, either, just lines. And... now that he was holding it in his hands, he had to admit it. The ticking wasn’t coming from this clock.

It was coming from behind him.

He stiffened, staring down at the clock face. Should he turn around? Should he try to find the source of the ticking? He probably should know where it’s coming from, at least. So he could avoid it.

But he couldn’t move. His feet were cemented to the ground, his eyes locked to the clock face. He knew he probably wouldn’t see anything when he turned around, since he didn’t see anything weird in the bedroom when he investigated where the ticking was coming from in there. And yet, his mind couldn’t help but dwell on images of horrible things. That glitchy creature, the way it looked like him—was that behind him? Was that what was causing this?

“Mat?”

Mathew yelped and spun around instinctively. The living room was empty, of course, except for Larkin, holding a paper plate with a sandwich on it. He stared at Mathew, blinking in confusion. “Is... everything alright?” he asked.

“Uh...” Mathew hesitated. Maybe he shouldn’t tell Larkin—but then again, not telling Mom about the glitchy creature only led to bad things. He wasn’t sure what Larkin could do, since he was younger than him, but... maybe? “I... I heard a weird ticking noise,” Mathew said haltingly. “Like a clock, but... it wasn’t coming from here.” He held up the clock. “I know, it’s dumb, I was probably just hearing things, or uh... not hearing it come from here.” He laughed a little. “But... I heard it in our bedroom, too. So I’m on edge, cause of all the... the horrible things we’ve been through.”

Larkin’s eyes widened. He walked over to Mathew, pausing for only a moment to put the plate down. Then, once he was right up next to Mathew, he whispered, “I’ve been hearing that too.”

“...what?” Mathew inhaled sharply. His heart was instantly racing, a sharp feeling shooting through his stomach.

“I’ve told you about it!” Larkin insisted quietly. “I’ve been hearing this weird ticking noise ever since we came here!”

“What? I don’t remember that!” Mathew made sure to keep his voice quiet despite how he wanted to shout. Larkin was whispering, and Larkin was smart about this stuff. He should follow his lead.

“Yeah, well, I definitely said it.” Larkin folded his arms. “But since nothing bad was happening, I thought it was fine. And I told Mark about it since we left, he said he’d been hearing it too. But he thought that it was fine cause nothing bad was happening, too.”

“Uh...” Mathew blinked. “So... Mark said to ignore it cause it wasn’t doing anything?” he summed up.

“Yeah.”

“Right.” Mathew nodded. “I didn’t understand you at first. Uh, okay, I guess Mark knows more about this stuff than we do.”

“Yeah, but now that you can hear the ticking too, I think we might need to get worried,” Larkin said. “Cause maybe it’s bad that the, uh, normal people are hearing it. Maybe it’s starting to do stuff.”

“...normal people?” Mathew repeated, feeling vaguely offended.

“Yeah, you’re not normal, but you know what I mean.” Larkin grinned.

“Hey! Little shi—jerk.” Mathew lightly shoved him. “Anyway. What do we do? Should we ask Amy about it?”

“First I think you should put the clock back,” Larkin said.

“Oh. Right.” Mathew hung the clock back up on the wall.

“And, uh... I dunno, I don’t want to worry Miss Amy,” Larkin said. “She and Mark are worried about Mom. I don’t want to make her worried more.”

“That’s a good point,” Mathew said slowly. “But also... I think she’d want us to tell her. Something like this seems pretty important. And what if she’s already hearing the ticking, too? It might reassure her to know we hear it too. Then she’ll know she’s not crazy.”

“Ohhhh good point.” Larkin nodded. “Okay, let’s go tell her.” And with that, he turned and hurried off. “Come on, I think she’s in her bedroom!”

“Larkin!” Mathew ran after him, grabbing his arm once he caught up. “I didn’t mean now!”

Larkin blinked. “Well why not?”

“I... need more time to prepare!” Mathew said. “You know me, I can’t just do stuff without thinking.”

“Sure, I guess,” Larkin said. “Then... I’ll go by myself!” He shook out of Mathew’s grip and continued down the hall.

“Wait no don’t go without me, either!” Mathew gasped, running after him. Clearly, there was no stopping Larkin now, so might as well join him.

Amy was indeed in her bedroom, sitting on the bed. Papers were spread across the covers, and her laptop was sitting near the foot. She was sorting these papers and comparing them to an image displayed on the laptop, but she glanced up right away when the two boys walked in. “Oh, morning, Mathew.”

“Uh, morning,” Mathew said. He paused, trying to think of what to say. “Uh—”

“Have you heard any weird ticking sounds around the house?” Larkin interrupted.

“Larkin!” Mathew hissed.

Amy put down the paper she was looking at, giving the boys her full attention. “What do you mean, weird ticking sounds?”

Mathew sighed. “They sound like... like clocks, except they’re coming from places where there aren’t any clocks. Or, uh, there are clocks, but they’re digital or don’t tick.”

“I’ve been hearing it for a while,” Larkin added. “Ever since Mom and us came to stay with you! But Mathew’s hearing it just now.”

“I... haven’t heard anything like that, no,” Amy said slowly. “Is there ticking in this room right now?”

“Mm-hm, probably.” Larkin nodded.

“Let’s check,” Mathew said. “Everyone, go quiet.”

The three of them fell silent, listening to the sound of the room. It took a minute for Mathew’s ears to adjust, but once they did, he heard it. Slightly muffled, like it was behind a wall or something. But the ticking was there. He looked at Larkin, who nodded. “Yeah, I hear it here. But it’s quieter.”

“I don’t hear anything...” Amy said. Her brows drew together in thought. Then she stood up. “Alright, I know you two wouldn’t lie about this, you’re not those kind of kids. Larkin hearing things makes sense, we know that you have special senses, like Mark. But Mathew... hm.” She looked worried, but she quickly tried to hide it, turning away to look around at some stuff on the nightstand. She opened up a drawer and took out what looked like a tape measure, a marker, and a knife. “Alright. Guide me to the source of the noises. Let’s figure out where they are.”

They spent the rest of the day doing just that. Together, they would walk into a room and go quiet, Mathew and Larkin listening for the ticking and narrowing down where it came from. Then, Amy would tap the wall with the end of the tape measure. When Mathew asked if this was a weird, cursed object, like the necklace Stacy had used to track down John, Amy explained that it was just a normal measuring tape. “We use this to touch a lot of weird things because if something grabs onto the end of the tape, it’ll keep extending, and we’ll have time to react and let go,” she said.

None of the ticking spots reacted to the tape measure at all, though. They seemed... normal. All of the ticking sounds came from the wall, fairly high-up in a spot where a clock might be hung, perfectly eye-level with the average adult. Some of the ticking sounds were quieter, like the true source of them was actually inside the wall. But other than the weird noises they made, they didn’t seem to have any special properties. After discovering each one, Amy drew an X on the wall at the epicenter of the ticking, though she sighed about making a mess every time.

Before it got too dark, they also checked outside. But there was no ticking out there. Only inside the house—though Larkin said that if he stood really close to the outer walls, he could hear the ticking from inside. That didn’t count, though.

“I’ll call Mark about this,” Amy said once they were done. “We’ll talk about what to do next. It’s probably safe to stay inside the house?” She stared at the boys, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, probably safe. If we decide it’s not, we can all go stay with Ethan or another friend who knows about this stuff.”

“Sounds good.” Mathew gave her a thumbs up, and Larkin nodded.

They went back inside, and Mathew borrowed a pair of headphones to block out the sound of the ticking.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later, Amy relayed what Mark had said when she called them. He agreed with her that nothing seemed urgent with the ticking sound, but that they should be on guard just in case it got worse. So, the three of them all went to bed that night, feeling slightly uneasy. Mathew slept in his pair of borrowed headphones, but Larkin was able to fall asleep easily enough even without anything like that. Then again, he had been hearing the ticking for much longer than Mathew had. He’d probably gotten used to it.

The headphones, however, took a lot of getting used to. It was awkward to lay on his side with them—his preferred sleeping method—so he had to lie on his back or risk the headphones digging into his ear. He tossed and turned that night, trying to get comfortable, before exhaustion took over and dragged him down.

And then, late in the night, he woke up again, his heartrate suddenly skyrocketing. Confused, at first—but then he realized it. The ticking. It was louder. Much louder, easily piercing through the headphones. “Larkin!” he shouted, sitting up straight.

Larkin sat up as well, eyes wide. “I hear it!” he said. It must’ve woken him up as well.

The two of them both turned to look at the spot on the wall where the ticking was coming from. The X that Amy had drawn was still there... no. Wait. It was... different. Bigger. And... curved? The lines were wobbly, like someone had grabbed the middle of the X and twisted it while the four ends remained in place. “Uh... that’s not... normal, is it?” Mathew said.

“We gotta get out of here!” Larkin threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, bolting for the bedroom door. Mathew hurried to follow him. But they were both stopped. Because when Larkin tried to open the door, it wouldn’t open. He tried again, grabbing onto the knob with both hands. But it wouldn’t turn. “It’s locked!”

“That’s impossible, there’s no lock on this door!” Mathew said.

“Well it’s locked now!” Larkin insisted.

“Here, let me try.” Mathew nudged him out of the way and grabbed the doorknob himself. But it didn’t even jiggle when he tried to turn it. The handle might as well have been decorative. “What the hell?”

“Uhhh we should be worried now,” Larkin said, bouncing in place.

“Yeah we should!” Mathew spun around. “The window!”

They both ran for the window, knowing it was supposed to slide open. But as the grabbed the edge and pulled in unison, it also stayed frozen in place. Mathew braced his foot against the wall and tried to pull harder, grunting with exertion. But still it remained stuck in place. He gave up, gasping. “Do we... break the glass?” Larkin asked. “They say ‘break glass in case of emergency’ all the time.”

“The message on fire extinguishers?” Mathew muttered.

“But also that’s what you’re supposed to do if you’re stuck in a car in the water. Mom told us, remember?”

Mathew flinched at the idea of a car crash. “Uh... y-yeah. Do we... do we have anything heavy in here?”

The two turned around to search the room. But then Larkin gasped, grabbing onto Mathew. He pointed at the wall where the ticking noise was coming from. The X was even bigger now, and even more twisted. It was now clear that it was starting to form a spiral. “Shit,” Mathew whispered.

“It... maybe it can’t change while we look at it?” Larkin muttered.

“Maybe,” Mathew said. “There’s two of us, we can take turns looking at it. And while one person looks, the other should look around the room. If we can’t find something to break the window with, we should grab a phone and try to call... uh, someone.” He realized after he suggested it that they didn’t know Mark or Amy’s numbers. But maybe it was in the phone’s contact list.

“Good idea!” Larkin nodded, apparently not realizing the same thing about the numbers that Mathew did. “I’ll stare first, you look around.”

“Yeah.” Mathew tore his eyes from the spiral on the wall and started looking around the room. He found the tablet Amy had lent them, but no phone. “Oh!” Mathew shouted out loud and hit his forehead. He was so dumb!

“Mathew I gotta blink!” Larkin shouted.

“Right.” Mathew turned his attention back to the spiral on the wall. “Go.”

Larkin looked away and began his own search of the room. “Do you think we could break the window with a lamp? Or this clock?”

“Uh, maybe,” Mathew said, distracted. “Lark, I just remembered. Mom took the phone with her when she left. She’s been video calling us with this.” He held up the tablet. “There’s not gonna be a phone in here at all.”

“...huh.” Larkin paused. “I mean, you’re right, but then... what’s this?” He held up a black rectangle. Mathew was busy looking at the spiral, but he realized what it was out of the corner of his vision. “There’s a phone in here.”

“What? That can’t be any of ours.” Mathew frowned. “That’s weird...” He continued to look at the wall, even as his mind wanted to wander and his eyes wanted to water.

...wait a minute. The pattern on the wall... was it... moving?

Mathew stared. No way. The water in his eyes was probably just making it look like it was starting to swirl. “Larkin, I gotta blink.”

“Okay!” Larkin diligently turned his attention to the spiral—and gasped. “Mathew! I think—I think it’s moving!”

“Shit!” Mathew blinked furiously, even wiping his eyes. And when his vision was clear, he saw there was no mistaking it. The spiral on the wall was moving, gently spinning, faint enough for them to deny the movement at first. But it seemed to be getting faster—or was that just a trick of the mind?

It was also getting bigger. And the ticking was getting louder. Piercing their ears.

“Maybe we—we have to look away from it, actually!” Mathew suggested. “Turn away!” He spun around, staring at the window instead.

“Uh, o-okay!” Larkin turned around as well. “I guess, uh, in the meantime, we can look at this?” He held up the phone. “It looks like Mom’s, I think. But you said she took it with her. And, like, of course she did, otherwise she couldn’t talk with us every night! But then why’s it here?”

“Uh... I don’t know.” Mathew paused for a moment. The ticking was getting louder and louder, demanding to be acknowledged. “Do you know her password? Try it.”

“Yeah, it’s our birthday dates,” Larkin said, opening up the phone. “Look, it has a picture of us as the background! That’s like Mom’s, too! But, uh.... I think Mom’s has a different picture?”

Mathew inhaled sharply. No, that picture—it was the background of Stacy’s phone at one point. But from... before... with the four of them.

The ticking sounded like gunshots.

And then—it stopped.

Larkin and Mathew glanced at each other. The silence now hung heavy, inviting them to look. But Mathew didn’t want to look. That would just make things worse, wouldn’t it? Instead, he reached out and gently took the phone from Larkin’s hand, quickly opening up the contacts list so he didn’t have to look at the picture. But the list was empty. Mathew almost cursed, but the silence pressed him to be quiet. He remembered Stacy’s number, but she had disappeared. Would she pick up?

“...Mat?” Larkin whispered. “What do we do?”

Mathew swallowed a lump in his throat. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up. The window was in front of them, but they couldn’t go through it. They could only stare. To do anything else, they would need to turn around. But that would just make things worse.

"Mat?” Larkin said again, his voice a breath. He reached out and grabbed Mathew’s hand. “What... what are we gonna do?”

“I... I don’t know,” Mathew whispered back. “We can’t do anything right now, I think. But...”

“Yeah...” Larkin nodded. “I... I’m scared, too.”

“Scared? Yeah.” Mathew didn’t know if ‘scared’ was the right word here. The glitchy thing had scared him. This was different. This was... dreadful. A pit in his stomach. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to face it.

“Can you...” Larkin squeezed Mathew’s hand. “Can you... I-I don’t know. You’re... with me. We’re standing next to each other. R-right?”

Mathew looked at him. He took a deep breath, and squeezed his hand back. “Yeah. We’re right next to each other. I’m with you.” He paused. “Let’s... let’s turn around together.” The thought of turning around at all made his voice tremble, though. He didn’t really want to look.

Larkin looked up at him. He smiled. “Y-yeah... you can do it, Mathew. A-a-and I can do it if you do it.”

Tears sprang to Mathew’s eyes. He nodded. “Yeah. O-okay.”

“On three,” Larkin said. “One... two... three!”

Mathew didn’t want to do it, but Larkin was there, helping him. So he took a deep breath. Together, the two of them spun around—

The room behind them was gone.

The spiral on the wall had grown, and it was looming closer, a tunnel that had consumed the beds, the dressers, all of the furniture except for the single nightstand closest to the window. The darkness was inches from them, shadows like a waiting maw. And inside the darkness... in the distance, down this tunnel, this gullet, there were figures. Indistinct figures, with wide, dark eyes and twisted limbs and bodies, grotesque sculptures... that were staring at them.

Mathew screamed and scrambled back. Larkin didn’t scream, but only because he was frozen in place. Mathew had to lean forward despite his fear and grab him, yanking him backwards until the two of them were pressed against the smooth glass of the window.

The figures moved closer. The edges of the spiral tunnel began to spin. “S-stay back!” Mathew shouted. He jabbed his elbow into the window glass behind them, wincing as he hit his funny bone against the solid surface. That did nothing to break it. So he grabbed Larkin, wrapping his arms around him, and braced himself, staring into the tunnel.

But then...

The shadows...

began to fall back.

Mathew and Larkin continued to stare, though more out of confusion than fear now. More of the spiral tunnel was revealed, and without the shadows it looked more like a weird art installation or a carnival attraction than something waiting to swallow them whole. The figures stepped forward... and suddenly they weren’t as twisted and frightening as they were before. In fact, they looked a little familiar—though not entirely. “Um... Mark...?” Mathew asked hesitantly.

“Mr. Ethan?” Larkin added, equally unsure.

“Oh, no sorry.” The man who looked like Mark smiled gently. “We’re just borrowing their faces for a little bit.” He was dressed all in white, but his eyes were pure black... except for the thinnest, spiraling white line.

“This is appropriate, right?” The man who looked like Ethan asks, glancing down at himself. “It’s familiar, isn’t it?” He was dressed in all black, but his eyes were pure white... except for the thinnest, spiraling black line.

“Who... are you?” Mathew asked. “What are you?”

“We don’t have names yet,” said the one dressed in white.

“Technically, we don’t exist yet, so no one can name us!” the one in black added cheerfully.

Larkin nodded like this made perfect sense, but it just confused Mathew. “Wait, you don’t exist yet? That’s impossible! I mean, uh, how are you talking to us if you don’t... exist?”

“The line between the two is more blurred than you might think,” the one in white said, folding his hands together.

“If something exists in your head, but is no longer around, does that thing still exist?” the one in black mused. “If you have an idea that you’ve never said out loud, is it real? It’s real to you, isn’t it?”

“You’re just confusing them, (    ),” the one in white said.

“What? They asked! You were being too vague about it, (     ), how were they supposed to get anything from that?”

“Uhhh...” Mathew coughed. “So... wh-what are you here to do?” He shuffled in front of Larkin protectively.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” the one in black quickly said. “Don’t worry. Though I guess we did want to scare you a bit.”

“Only a bit,” the one in white agreed. “But only to see what you’d do.”

“Why would you wanna scare anyone?” Larkin sounded almost offended at the idea. “Scaring people is bad! Mom says that if you pull a prank, it needs to be one that everyone will laugh at, and not something actually scary or mean.”

The black and white pair glanced at each other, confused. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with being a little scared,” the one in white said. “In fact, sometimes you need to be scared.”

“Because you can’t be brave without any fear,” the one in black agreed.

Mathew tilted his head to the side. “So... were you two... trying to see if we were brave?”

“I mean... I guess you can put it that way,” the one in black said.

“There are things coming up,” the one in white said. “Things that you can’t hide from. Things you can’t escape from.”

“Not just the things out there actively hunting you, either,” the one in black continued. “Big things. The sort of things that you can’t touch, but that are true and exist anyway.”

“...what?” Mathew whispered.

“Can you two see the future?” Larkin asked, mildly excited about that possibility.

“Well, I mean, not exactly,” the one in black said, grinning.

“We just know a lot about the next year or so,” the one in white explained. “After all, that’s going to be our life. It’s sort of like how you know you’ll probably go to school until you’re eighteen. Some stuff might happen to change that, but you know the steps.”

“Okay... I guess...” Mathew said slowly. “Can you be, uh, any more specific?”

The two glanced at each other. “No,” the one in white said bluntly.

“Well, we don’t know everything,” the one in black added. “We just know that something’s happening. And it’s going to be tough for you guys.”

“Even if we could be more specific, we’re on a bit of a time limit,” the one in white continued. “Something’s coming.”

Mathew felt a shiver run across his skin. “What’s coming?”

“Something you’ve seen before,” the one in black said. “Something that scared you.”

“But it won’t hurt you now,” the one in white quickly added. “It’s not here for that. In fact, we think it’s coming here to help you find your mom.”

“Mom?!” Larkin gasped. “Wait wait wait—is it one of the monsters? One of them knows where Mom is?”

“Of course! Shit!” Mathew cursed. “They’re all like, friends and stuff, aren’t they? That red one that was Jaqueline, it was like... getting close to Mom for the thing from the house. A-and so was the thing that controlled her, and—shit, yeah.”

“So you can’t turn away from this,” the one in black said. “You can’t turn away from anything anymore. You have to get through it.”

“Even if it sucks,” the one in white said. “Even if it’s scary. Even if it’s sad.”

Mathew felt something twist in his chest, a lump forming in his throat. “Even if it’s sad?”

“A lot of things are sad,” the one in black said quietly. “But they’re sad because they used to be happy, once. That’s what stuff like grief is. Remembering the happy things, and knowing there won’t be any more.”

“But you can’t avoid it forever,” the one in white said. “Everything has to end eventually.”

“Everything has to end...” Mathew repeated. He nodded slowly. Those words struck him like an arrow, burying deep into his heart. He knew they’d stay there, too. Lodged in his chest. “Okay... yeah. Okay. I-I can... do that.”

“We can do that,” Larkin added, squeezing Mathew’s hand.

“Yeah, uh, we can do that.” Mathew nodded.

“Good,” the pair said simultaneously.

“So... now what?” Larkin asked. “Are you guys gonna just... go? Are you gonna put the room back to the way it was before?”

“We’re going to leave, yes,” the one in white said. “It took a lot of energy to talk to you before we exist.”

“But you guys are so nice, we just had to say something!” the one in black added. “We had to see if you were ready.”

“Uh... thanks,” Mathew said. “It’s nice to have some of you weird guys that aren’t out to hurt us.”

“Well... hurt might happen as a side effect of us, when we exist,” the one in white contemplated. “We don’t know yet.”

“But I don’t think you guys will be around to see that,” the one in black said.

“Oh, don’t forget to leave a note for Amy when you leave,” the one in white quickly added. “She’d be worried otherwise. She’ll probably still be worried anyway, though.”

“Maybe we can bring the tablet she lent us,” Mathew wondered. “So she can video call us.”

“Great idea, Mat!” Larkin grinned. “You’re so smart!”

The pair chuckled. “Well, yes, you do that,” the one in white said.

“Maybe we’ll see you again, but I doubt it,” the one in black said.

“So... goodbye, then?” Mathew said. “Forever?”

The pair nodded.

“Goodbye.” Larkin smiled. “Thanks again!”

As the pair smiled back, bowing a farewell, the world around them began to move, spiraling in a vertigo-inducing way. The ticking sound, previously gone, slowly fades in again, getting louder and louder. Mathew felt dizzy, spots of blackness appearing in his vision. He and Larkin held onto each other as the shadows consumed their vision...

And then Mathew opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom. Lying in bed. Like it was all a dream. He blinked, turning to look at the clock. It was 1:32 am. And... there was no ticking noise to be heard. Just the X on the wall that Amy had drawn, marking where it had once come from.

For a second, Mathew doubted that any of that was real. Maybe it was a really vivid dream. But there was no way. If there was one thing he’d learned recently, it was that things were never just a dream. So... maybe that black and white pair had somehow... been in his head? That, or it was all real, and they just... time traveled back. Or otherwise put everything back the way it was before.

“Psst. Mathew.”

Mathew looked to the side and saw Larkin, lying awake as well. His wide eyes reflected what little light there was in the room. “Hi,” Mathew whispered.

“Did you just have a weird dream?” Larkin asked.

“Yeah. I think it wasn’t a dream.”

“Me neither.” Larkin sat up, flinging back his blankets. “We gotta get ready to go, then.”

“Yeah.” Mathew stood up as well. “Grab anything you want to keep with you.”

The two of them quietly packed up. They didn’t want to turn on the lights for some reason, so they used the flashlight on the tablet to find their way around. Everything they really wanted to take with them fit into the two backpacks Stacy had bought them a while ago. When those were filled, they slung them on their backs and looked at each other silently.

“There’s a notepad and pencil in the little drawer in the weird hallway table,” Larkin said.

“The really thin useless one, yeah,” Mathew chuckled.

Together, they headed out into the hallway, quickly finding the tiny hallway table, which was pretty much only big enough for the drawer with the writing supplies and nothing else. Mathew grabbed the paper and a pen and wrote down a note for Amy while Larkin waited.

 Dear Amy, Don’t worry, we’re okay! But we had a weird encounter with a pair of these people-shaped creatures last night. They told us we needed to go find our mom, and we agreed with them. By the time you read this, we’ll already be long gone. But if you need to check if we’re safe, the tablet you gave us has video calling and we took that with us. Thanks for everything you and Mark have done for us. – Mathew and Larkin

He didn’t mention that they’d be leaving the house with one of the scarier things. He thought that would just make Amy worry more. Part of him thought that he should tell her anyway just in case something went wrong, but he had a feeling that if something went wrong, Amy and Mark wouldn’t be able to do much about it.

“Alright, now we just... wait, I guess?” Mathew said. “Right, Lark?”

Larkin was busy staring at a door in the hallway, though. His brow furrowed. “Uh... Mathew? That door wasn’t there before, was it?”

“Huh?” Mathew looked as well. He blinked, counting the doors in the hallway. There was the bathroom, Mark and Amy’s room, the guest bedroom where they were staying with Stacy... and a fourth door. “I don’t... know.”

They stared at the door for a moment more. Until Mathew slowly stepped forward. He grabbed the doorknob and slowly twisted it. And the door slowly creaked open.

The hallway beyond didn’t belong to the house. It was long, with tiled floors and white walls extending into the distance, covered in faint stains, lit by flickering lights. And standing in the hallway was a tall thing in a white coat, covered in stitches.

It tilted its head. “Irgendetwas ist anders an euch beiden,” it said. “Hast du keine Angst?”

“We still don’t speak German, man,” Mathew muttered.

The thing laughed.

“Someone told us you were coming,” Larkin said, keeping his voice steady. “Y-you’re going to help us find Mom, aren’t you?”

The thing nodded. “Letztlich,” it said. “Wir gehen dorthin, wo sie sein wird.”

Mathew frowned. He didn’t like that he couldn’t understand it. His mind flashed with memories of the last time they were here—hiding from this thing, finding their mom and John stuck here, fighting off that gross, monstrous dog-sized thing with the eyes. Was this really a good idea?

It gestured for them to come forward. “Ich werde dich dorthin bringen. Egal, was. Ich möchte dich nicht verletzen, aber bitte machen Sie es mir leicht.”

Larkin squeezed Mathew’s hand. “W-we can do this,” he whispered.

“Yeah...” Mathew really didn’t want to do this. But their other option was to stay here, just waiting for Amy and Mark to find Stacy the traditional way. They might... never find her. And the thought scared Mathew more than anything there might be in these dark corridors. Which maybe made him a dumbass. Because he could imagine so many terrible things in there. But... he wanted his mom. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The hotel door opened. Stacy lifted her head up—and only now realized that Mark’s bed was empty. Because Mark was walking into the room right now. He saw her looking at him and froze. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“The hell are you doing up?” Stacy muttered.

“I always get up this early,” Mark said, slowly closing the door behind him. “Don’t worry about it. Just go back to sleep.”

“I can’t.” Stacy sat up, rubbing her eyes. “It won’t let me rest.”

Mark’s eyes flicked over her shoulder. “I, uh... I see. Sorry about that, then.” He walked over to the side of the hotel room, where there was a small kitchen area with a microwave, mini fridge, and coffee maker. He set a white paper bag down on the counter. “Well. I got donuts. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Maybe.” Stacy pushed the blankets away and looked around. She hadn’t really been able to take in the details of the hotel room when they arrived last night. Her thoughts had been whirling, circling with worry. These creatures... what did they have planned for her? What did they have planned for John? They wanted to take down the thing that had claimed him, and she had no doubt that they wouldn’t hesitate if John was dragged down with it. Was there anything she could do to keep John from being caught in the crossfire?

She didn’t know. She just didn’t know.

But... she had to try, didn’t she?

She felt a presence behind her, like someone leaning forward. “we have things to do,” a whisper said.

“What?! What do we have to do?!” Stacy demanded, twisting around to look at it—though of course, it disappeared when she saw it.

“go back there,” it whispered.

“Back... huh?” Stacy blinked. “You mean... talk to John again?”

Mark looked over at her. “You want to talk to that thing?”

“That ‘thing’ is my friend!” Stacy snapped. “He’s being controlled by something! Something that’s been haunting him and hunting him for years! It’s not too different from what’s happened to you, is it?!”

Mark flinched. “Alright, that’s fair. I... I understand. It’s just... you’ve been through a lot, you know. And... I’ll be honest, that guy...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s something about him. Something... uncanny.” He paused. “I can’t help but think I know him... but I know I don’t. I... I would remember a guy like that.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Stacy muttered. “But... I have a theory.” She stood up and walked over to the small kitchen area, taking a glazed donut out of the bag Mark brought. “I think... I think a part of his haunting is that people forget him.”

“Hmm.” Mark blinked. “I remember what your friend looks like, though.”

“Y-yeah, I do too, but... it’s not like that.” Stacy shook her head. “I think that after he leaves, if you see him again, you won’t remember that he’s that guy you met before. You think he’s someone new. I-I know something like that has happened to me before, but I remembered once he told me to call him John. Maybe... maybe because of this thing?” She gestured over her shoulder, knowing that Misery was right behind her as always. “Maybe because of my encounters with it and its friends? I-I don’t know for sure, but I... I really do think that’s how it, uh, works.”

Mark tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I’ve uh... I’ve never encountered something like that. But it’s totally possible. Weird, though. Why would something want to do that to him?”

Stacy blinked. “I dunno. I don’t really think about what these things want.”

“Well if they can think, of course they want something,” Mark said. “It’s just... usually bad stuff.”

Stacy frowned. Last night, at the coffee place, that thing in the red hood—Sangria—told her that Misery loves company, living or dead. So... is that what Misery wanted? People to... have around? Then what did the rest of them want? Did their goals align? Is that why they were helping it get him? 

Well, she knew they were all opposed to that glitchy thing, at least.

“did you hear me?” came the whisper. “go back there.”

Stacy shook her shoulder, dislodging the hand there. “Yeah, I heard you,” she muttered. “I have to get ready for the day and stuff. Then I’ll go back to those guys’ house.”

“Whoa, wait, hold on, we got distracted.” Mark shook his head. “You don’t have to go there just because it’s telling you to.”

“No, I... I think there’s some, uh, good to be done... with that,” Stacy said slowly. “I want to help, but I can’t help by staying away from him all the time. I have to confront the problem. I can’t keep running away.” Even though part of her felt sick with fear to think about seeing her friend like that again. She wouldn’t leave him like this. Not after everything.

Mark stared at her, then nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll drive you over there.”

“Great.” Stacy took a bite out of her donut, chewing and swallowing quickly. “Let’s get ready fast. I think this thing is gonna get impatient.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Uh... are you sure?” The four young people stared at her, clear disbelief written on their features. “I mean... didn’t it try to attack you last time you went in there?” Michael continued.

“It definitely bit you, at least,” Rya muttered. “H-how is that, by the way?”

Stacy looked down at her arms. The bite from yesterday was wrapped in bandages. She couldn’t remember when that happened. Not specifically, at least, she vaguely recalled Mark mentioning that he brought medical supplies. He must’ve wrapped it up, but that memory wasn’t clear. “It’s fine,” she said.

“What if there was some—something in the bite, though?” Diane fretted.

“No, I-I don’t think so,” Stacy said. “Maybe. No more than what’s usually in a person’s mouth.” 

“Anyway, back to the point,” Leo said. “Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” Stacy said. “I... I need to know what’s going on. Knowledge is the best weapon in this situation. And... this is the only way to get it, I think.”

The four of them exchanged uneasy looks.

“Look, I know that you’re worried,” Stacy said. “And I really appreciate your concern. After all, you barely know me. It would be so easy for you to say ‘who cares?’ and let me do whatever as long as it didn’t hurt you guys. But you care.”

“We just don’t want people to get hurt,” Michael said, fidgeting with the end of his ponytail.

“Yeah, and you all have done a lot to protect people no matter what,” Stacy said. “And you haven’t... I know you’ve all been through a lot, but you haven’t let it... You haven’t forgotten how to care, you haven’t grown callous. You’ve held onto that. And I think that’s very impressive, and very needed.”

“Well, uh, thank you, Miss Stacy,” Diane stammered. “We’re flattered, but... what’s this have to do with you wanting to talk to that creature?”

“He’s not a creature, he’s a human who’s possessed or something,” Stacy corrected. “And my point is, it’s good that you care, but you have to trust me on this. I know what I’m doing, I’m more prepared than last time, I can take care of myself.” She glanced behind her, where Mark was hovering silently. “Same goes for you, too. I know you’ve dealt with this sort of stuff the most out of any of us, but I have to do this myself. I don’t know how he’ll react to more people being there.”

Mark looked at her. He was clearly reluctant, but if he was going to stop her, he could have just refused to drive her back here. He nodded. “Be careful. Keep that gun close.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Stacy patted her shoulder holster beneath her jacket.

“Why do you have that, by the way?” Leo asked. “Is it to fight the monsters?”

“No, I... I had it before all this,” Stacy said. “For safety. I was moving somewhere new, and I was... very, very nervous... A-anyway.”

“Weren’t you moving to England?” Mark wondered out loud. “Isn’t that illegal over there? How did you—”

“Anyway!” Stacy said again. “Can I go see him now?”

Again, the four exchanged looks. Then, Leo nodded. “Yeah. C’mon. We’ll all wait outside.”

They took her and Mark back down the stairs into the basement, where they all nervously circled around the closed door. Diane unlocked it quickly before backing up, and Stacy stepped forward and grabbed the doorknob. She looked back at the others. “Stay out of sight,” she said. They all nodded and backed up the stairs. She nodded, then took a deep breath and faced forward again. And... she opened the door.

The room beyond was dark. Until she stepped forward. The second her foot landed on the carpet on the other side of the door, the lightbulbs in the ceiling turned on. She glanced up at them as they flickered repeatedly, waiting for them to stop. They didn’t. She felt a hand on her shoulder. “be careful,” something whispered in her ear.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and started walking forward. The carpet... crunched under her feet. She glances down. There were tiny metallic objects on the ground, slipped between the fibers of the carpet. Where did those come from? Other than them, the room was unchanged. How... strange.

She kept walking forward.

He was right where she’d last seen him. Slumped on the ground next to the washing machine, ropes binding his arms and legs, and one more wrapped around his neck, tethering him to a pipe. That one green eye was still open, staring at her from between strands of hair. She stopped walking. Making sure she was well out of his reach. “H-hi again, John.”

He lifted his head to look at her, his other eye opening. A normal blue eye, one that was now bloodshot and tired. “...why did you come back here?” He whispered. “Y-you should’ve run.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you,” Stacy said, crouching down to the ground. Now that she was closer, she could see that the metal objects on the ground were tiny chips. Microchips, so many of them that it reminded her of wood chips covering the area around a playground. 

John laughed. “Y-you should. I... I can... h-handle this myself. I don’t want... you o-or the kids to be...”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want you to suffer, either,” Stacy said.

John suddenly jerked upwards, leaning forward to the limit of the rope. Both his eyes were wide. “The kids,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Th-they’re not—not here, are they?”

Stacy leaned back. “No, they’re not. They’re somewhere safe. I talked to them last night, though, a-and they’re okay.” Though she didn’t remember much of the previous night after the coffee shop, she remembered her call to them clearly. Mathew did most of the talking, saying that everyone was fine. Larkin asked if she was coming back soon. She didn’t know.

He let out a breath of relief. “Good.” His blue eye was tearing up. His green one... was not. It stated at her. Calmly.

“How are you, John?” Stacy whispered.

“How—?” John burst into laughter. Shrieks and peals that sounded like him at first, but as he continued laughing, laughing, laughing, without taking a breath, it stopped sounding like him. It stopped sounding like a living thing at all. Stacy shivered at the artificial-sounding noises. It was like a computer was dying. But soon, they faded, taken over by a rough, choking cough. John bent over, again straining the rope, and coughed for a solid minute. He stopped just as she was starting to wonder if she should do something, and looked up at her. “How do you think?” He asked, voice even scratchier than it was before.

“Not good,” Stacy said plainly.

“Yeah n-no shit.” John leaned backwards again. 

“But I mean... besides the obvious,” Stacy explained. “I-I don’t think these guys were feeding you or anything. Do you... need anything?”

John thought about that. “I... think... I don’t,” he whispered. “I feel hungry. And thirsty. But I’ve been stuck here for longer than three days, and they haven’t given me water. I think... it’s keeping me alive.”

Something squeezed Stacy’s shoulder. She jumped slightly. And she wondered—would this thing, this Misery, do the same for her? Or would it not mind if she died? 

“I know what you’re thiiiinkiiiing.”

Stacy went pale. “Wh-what?”

“It’s on your face,” John whispered. “Do you think it will save you?” He giggled. “It won’t. It says it cares. But it doesn’t. It’s a pretender. I never liked those.”

She fell back, landing on her rear. It was suddenly clear that this wasn’t John talking to her. When had it stopped being him? Before the singsong taunt a few seconds ago—but had it been John at all before that? Or had it always been this one, staring at her with that green, bleeding eye and grinning? 

“Scared?” It asked in John’s voice.

Stacy swallowed a lump in her throat. She folded her legs beneath her and tried to look unworried. “What are you?”

“I am what you’re afraid of,” it said. “I am the whispers in the wires. I am the stories without an origin, the rumors without a source. And I... am... e̡ve̡r̛ywh̡e͟re͟.”

The lights switched off. Stacy couldn’t hold back a shiver. The thing laughed, and though it was John’s voice, it didn’t sound like him at all. She knew something like this would happen. She knew. But that didn’t stop the dread that crept down her spine and pooled in her stomach.

She could see the green eye in the darkness. It didn’t glow, there was no reason she should have been able to see it, but she could see it as it stared and watched her in the darkness—

“breathe.”

She inhaled sharply—and only then realized that she had stopped breathing. The thing with the green eye laughed, a sound which started where John was and then circled around her. It didn’t move. It didn’t move. It was just throwing its voice to freak her out. It—it was working, admittedly. But she wasn’t going to leave. “You—you need something to—be referred to by,” Stacy stammered. “What is it?”

“You mean a name?” It sounded amused. “Well I’m ijõħ®ţ of course.”

Stacy blinked. “Huh?”

It laughed again, and the sound came from right next to her. “That’s the problem with being everywhere. There’s too much of me for you to know, even if I wanted you to.”

That made her head spin. She shook it off. There was a hand on her shoulder. For once, it felt... reassuring. A solid weight to hold onto. “What do you want with John?” she asked.

“Should I tell you? Should I? Are you suuuure?” It laughed again, the sound now coming from her other side. “Oh, you know, I think I will. It will tear into your heart to know, and his, too.”

Stacy felt a twist in her stomach. She didn’t say anything.

The green eye blinked. “I’m going to hollow him out.” 

Another appeared in the darkness. “I’m going to wear down his insides until he doesn’t exist anymore. And then I’m going to take the rest and make it something new. Something fun. Something m̴͞é͠.̵̡ Just like I do with all the others.”

Two more eyes appeared, staring at her in the darkness. “But this one is special. It won’t do to mash him up with other toys. He got away the first time. How persistent. How enduring.” 

Four more eyes appeared.  “I want that. I can do so much with that. Being not just an ephemeral thing, being something that walks this earth... I want that.”

Countless more eyes appeared, surrounding her, pressing against each other. There was no darkness anymore, only the eyes. “That’s what he’ll help me do... once there’s nothing left to play with.”

Stacy couldn’t speak. Even if she wanted to, it was like there was a physical block in her throat. Everywhere she looked there were eyes, eyes, eyes, staring at her—staring into her—

“close your eyes.”

She listened immediately, squeezing them shut.

It laughed. “I’m still here. Even when you can’t see me. I’m still here.”

“breathe,” the whisper in her ear said. “remember why you’re here.”

Why she was here...? She was... here to learn more. So that... she could help John. And... honestly... maybe help herself, too.

She couldn’t break down now. She couldn’t. She had to keep it together for at least a little bit. If this thing could hurt her, it would’ve done so by now. If it could escape, it would’ve done so by now. She was fine. Fine. 

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The eyes were gone. The room was still dark, but the eyes were gone... or at least, most of them were. She could still see one, the original one that John had. She stared directly at it. “Y-you’re a monster... but I’m sure you know that,” she whispered. “Let me talk to John now.”

There was a flash of teeth as it smiled. “Why?”

“Let me talk to John now!” She repeated, voice cracking slightly.

“don’t argue with it,” the voice whispered. “it won’t listen.”

Stacy knew that. But what else could she do? She thought about it, then narrowed her eyes. “Alright... I know you’re in there, John—”

“That’s not his naa-aame,” it taunted.

“You shut up!” She adjusted position, kneeling instead of sitting. “John, I-I know you’re in there. I know you can fight it off.”

The lights overhead flickered again, turning on for a moment. She caught a glimpse of John’s face. His eyes were wide, both of them leaking blood. A pale, terrified mask. He didn’t say anything.

“Y-you probably think you can’t,” Stacy continued. “But... you can. At least just for a moment. Just so I can talk with you. Please.” She started to reach out. But there was a flash of movement, and a hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She jumped in surprise, looking down at it. Its skin was gray, but she wasn’t sure if that was its natural shade or because it was so covered in dust. Holes and indents pockmarked the hand and arm, and she went pale just looking at them.

“don’t get close. leave. now.”

“H-hey.” The word came out strained. Once again, the lightbulbs flickered, lighting up the room. John was leaning forward. His eyes were still wide, but there was something more focused in them now. “Leave... her... alone.”

“John!” Stacy gasped. She yanked her wrist free—though she had a feeling that it let her do that. “John, listen. I-I’m going to find a way to help you.”

“You... you can’t,” John said.

“I’ll figure something out!” Stacy said. “There’s a way to get rid of that glitchy thing, I just know there is. Yesterday, I—”

A hand suddenly covered her mouth. She cried out in surprise. “don’t say anything,” it whispered, the voice harsher than usual. “it will hear you.”

“Heh... i-it’s right... actually.” John smiled sadly for a second. “If... you’re so convinced... don’t tell me. It... would stop you.”

Stacy softened slightly. She nodded... and the hand disappeared. “John,” she said gently. “I... I’m sorry. That... th-this is happening.”

John laughed. This time, it was definitely his laugh, though it had a bit of a hysterical edge to it. “S-sorry? Sorry that I’m going to—going to be—i-it’s going to—to m-make me into s-some sort of v...vessel? F-for itself?” He doubled over, laughing harder. But it soon transitioned to sobbing. Tears cut through the blood on his face. “Stacy, I... I d-don’t want... I-I’m scared, Stacy... I-I don’t know h-how much longer I can... b-but I have to! I w-won’t let it win... but... I’m scared, Stacy. I’m scared... and tired.”

Stacy’s eyes welled with tears. “I am too,” she whispered. “I have been... for so long. B-but the kids are always around, so I have to pretend like everything is okay, a-and I can’t fall to pieces when I have stuff to do, when I have to keep going forward, but I’m so exhausted from pretending.” She took a deep breath. “It’s so... so tiring. I know.”

John sniffled. “What do we do about this, Stacy? It’s... it’s all so much.”

She didn’t know what to say right away. But the truth was, there was only one thing to say. “I have a plan,” she said. “It... it isn’t fully thought-out.” The truth was, she didn’t know what these horrors had in store. She didn’t know much of anything, even after she’d come back here to learn more. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She couldn’t. That was the last thing he needed right now. “I... I know I have some way to help you, though. You just... just have to hold on.”

“I... I-I-I don’t have much else to do,” John said weakly. “I... I won’t let it win. I have to keep holding on.”

“Well you don’t have to keep holding on by yourself,” Stacy said. “I’m here. I’m going to help.” She started to reach out again, but then stopped, remembering how Misery prevented her. “I promise you. I’m going to help. I’m going to f-find some way to beat that glitchy creature.”

Silence filled the room. John’s eyes welled with tears again. He started to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. A sob came out instead. He started crying in earnest. Stacy didn’t know what to say, so she just knelt there, fighting back her own tears. “...th-thank you,” John gasped out. “Thank you, thank you, S-Stacy. I—I-I don’t know what I’d—thank you. Th-thank you.”

Stacy nodded. “Love you, John,” she said, the words barely discernible as she continued to force back the tears. “Y-you’ve been my best friend through all this.”

“Y-you’ve been my—my only friend,” John said.

“I-I’ll do everything I can,” Stacy said. “I promise.”

John didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

“now,” the whisper in her ear said. “leave. we’ve done what we came here to.”

Did they? She felt like they hadn’t done anything while here at all. She’d been  tormented by the glitchy creature and tried to reassure John a bit. That was all. But... it was feeling riskier and riskier the more time she spent in here. “I’ll try to talk to you again later, John,” Stacy said, slowly standing up.

“No... d-don’t,” John said. “I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to—if I’ll be able to—” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Just... go, Stacy. Be safe. I’ll... I-I’ll probably see you... later.”

Stacy nodded. She slowly stood up and walked backwards away from John, not daring to take her eyes off him. He stared at her. One green eye... one normal blue eye with a tear that trickled from it. She kept eye contact with that blue eye until she felt the door behind her. Then she grabbed the doorknob, twisted it open, and stumbled backwards into the stairwell.

The moment she was out in the open, Mark yanked her to the side and Michael slammed the door closed. “Are you alright?” Mark asked, looking her over. “He didn’t bite you again, did you?”

“No, no, I-I’m fine,” Stacy stammered. “I’m fine.”

“Oh thank god.” Mark let out a breath of relief. “How, uh... how did it... go?”

Stacy didn’t answer right away. Her face was still wet with tears.

“Um... Miss Stacy?” Rya asked. “Is there... anything we can do?”

She took a shaky breath. “I just need some time.”

“How about we go upstairs?” Diane suggested delicately.

“You guys go,” Leo said. “I’ll stay. Keep an eye on things. Just in case.”

“Thanks, Leo,” Michael said, reaching over to clap him on the back. “Be careful, okay?” He looked at Stacy. “If you want to lie down, you can borrow one of the girls’ beds, I guess?”

“Don’t volunteer us,” Rya said defensively. “But, uh... yes, you can lie down on my bed if you want.”

Stacy smiled weakly. “Thanks, but I think just sitting on the sofa will be fine.”

“Alright, up to the living room, then,” Mark said. “Let’s go.”

As they headed up the stairs, Stacy couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. But, of course, with the door closed, she couldn’t see anything of note. Leo waved at her, then gestured her onwards. She smiled, and continued up the steps, heading to the living room.

 The light at the bottom of the stairwell flickered.

* * * * * * * * * *

The moment that door slammed, he felt his muscles stiffen against his will. His jaw clenched so hard that he almost felt his teeth crack and his limbs began to shake. He threw his head backwards, slamming it against the pipe. His ears rang with the impact. He tried to let out a shriek of pain but it was like a fist was wrapped around his vocal cords. Slam! Slam! Slam! It happened again and again. The tears caused by sadness were soon joined by tears caused by pain.

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He tried to scream. He tried to scream so hard. The scent of copper filled his nostrils as blood leaked from his eyes down his face.

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And suddenly, he slumped, gasping for air as the sudden control disappeared. His muscles were weak, shivery. The rope around his neck was an uncomfortably tight, impossible to ignore presence. His nerves were singing, singing, singing with tingling static.

He blinked slowly... and for a moment, he wasn’t in his body anymore. He was in front of it, looking at his own face. 

His head lifted up. Both his eyes had green scleras and dark irises, and he smiled. “Let me show you what I mean,” his own voice whispered.

Then he was back in his body again, feeling through his skin and seeing through his eyes. Something scratched at his throat and he coughed. Out came blood... and something else. Something solid. He looked down, seeing something shiny and metallic in the crimson liquid. He felt something on his lips, and spat out a long, thin, flexible thing. Like... like some sort of wire.

Against his will, his mouth moved. He felt his vocal cords being squeezed together to make sounds. “Let... me... show... you... something,” he said. “That... coward... with... the... woman. I... took... something... from... it.”

Before he could wonder what that was about, his whole body seized up once more. And then, slowly... he felt himself collapsing inward. His legs jerked up, knees coming to his chest, and his elbows folded, shoulders popping out. His spine curled, forcing his neck to dig into the rope. Its length dug into the old wound across his throat, the one that never healed, and he couldn’t breathe. Every single muscle in his body contracted and his jaw opened wide, cracking at the joints. His bones shrieked with deep pain.

He felt like he was dissolving. Like he’d drank acid and it was eating away at his insides. Like dynamite had been liquefied and injected into his veins, causing small pops that tore at his flesh. He was unraveling, he was being unmade, his body was shaking so hard that its skin and organs were evaporating—

And then, suddenly, it was over.

He laid on the floor, shuddering and gasping. The pain remained in his veins and nerves, clawing at him from the inside out.

But it wasn’t done yet.

His arms and legs jerked, pushing him upright... Upright. He wasn’t tied down anymore. That confused him so much that he was briefly able to wrest control of his head away from the creature in his body, using it to look around the room. He was suddenly in the middle of the basement room. The rope that he’d been bound with were in a heap on the floor by the washing machine. What... happened?

Then his head snapped forward again and he lunged for the door, stumbling and slamming against it. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open—

Slam.

Someone on the other side of the door pushed it closed again. “No no no no,” a voice said—he recognized it as belonging to the guy named Leo. “Don’t you fucking dare. Guys! Guys!”

A giggle came from his throat. “No one to heeeear you,” his voice rasped. “Don’t bother to call. It won’t go through.”

His body reeled back and slammed forward against the door again. It hurt, but he wasn’t allowed to cry out. He could only scream in silence as it threw his whole weight against the wood over and over and over—

There! A gap! His hand shot out—the door slammed on his palm, crunching the bones inside. Nothing broke, luckily. But that didn’t mean the edge digging into his flesh didn’t hurt. “Dios mio!” Leo gasped. “Guys? Guys?! Help!”

Another laugh came from his throat. The fingers on the hand caught in the door started to wiggle, nails digging into the wood, looking for purchase. His limbs jerked and he shoved his whole body at the gap, forcing more of his hand through. He felt his bones grinding against each other, his skin being pulled as he pushed past even through the pressure.

“Guys!!” Leo shouted. To his credit, he didn’t stop pushing the door closed. “Get down here!!”

“They won’t come, Leo,” his voice whispered. He continued to push—

and then

he felt

his skin

rrrip.

Leo screamed in horror as blood started to leak from his hand. There were so many blood vessels in the hand. So, so many. The wooden edge of the door was quickly stained crimson.

He felt Leo’s strength falter in shock.

And he felt its triumph as it threw his body at the door again.

This time he slammed through, knocking Leo to the ground as the door hit the opposite wall hard enough for the doorknob to dent the plaster. It looked down at Leo and forced his face into a smile as it started to reach down—

No no no no no nobody gets hurt!

He pushes back against the thing, and his body froze for a moment. Just long enough for Leo to scramble to his feet and rush up the stairs. But not long enough to stop his body from running after him, right on his tail. This glitchy creature attached to him—it must have been saving its strength. Because he couldn’t fight it as easily as he thought he could.

This time, Leo wasn’t able to close the door in time. He tried, but hesitated and decided it would be better to run. So he did, shouting as he went. “It’s out it’s out it’s out! Fucking get out!”

He ran after Leo, skidding a bit on the tile floor of the kitchen—even running into a counter, but his body recovered from the blow easily and kept pursuing him into the dining room, and from there into the living room.

Everyone was in here. All of them. The other three who lived in this house, and Mark and Stacy... and that gray-colored thing that had been constantly lurking over Stacy’s shoulder the last two times he’d seen her. Its black, dripping eyes stared right at him as he ran into the room after Leo.

For a split second, Stacy and the three who lived here were frozen. But Mark ran for the front door, yanking it open. “Everyone out!” he shouted, and that caused the others to spring into motion. They all ran for the door.

But they weren’t fast enough. His body lunges forward, hand wrapping around the back of Leo’s shirt and pulling him back. “No!” Diane shouted, and turned back around. She picked up a lamp from a table and lunged at him, swinging wildly. He pulled Leo towards him and the lamp ended up smacking him instead, the lampshade flying off from the force of the impact. “Sorry!” Diane shouted.

“I said get out!” Mark was in the doorway, waiting for them.

“But—”

“I got it!” Leo yelled, recovering from the blow quickly and twisting around to smack him in the side of the head. He hadn’t done much to hold him tight, had he? Even that simple blow was enough to make him let go of his shirt. Diane immediately dropped the lamp and grabbed Leo, pulling him back towards the front door.

A growl leaves his throat, something animalistic. His body bent over and grabbed the lamp Diane had dropped, then stood up straight and whirled around, hitting the lamp against the wall. The now-exposed lightbulb shattered, and he felt its satisfaction in the smile that it made his face form.

Then it spun his body around and ran for the front door.

Leo and Diane were out, but Mark was still in the doorway. His eyes widened and he raised his arms defensively as he jabbed the broken end of the lamp at him—the broken glass dug into his skin, cutting, stabbing—Mark yelled out and kicked him back, then hurried out of the doorway, slamming it behind him.

He climbed to his feet again, strange, strained laughter coming from his throat. And then—then he felt that same thing he felt while in the basement. That feeling of collapsing, of folding up, of dissolving. As the pain wracked his body, a scream was torn out of him—

And suddenly he was outside, lying on the sidewalk, breathing heavily, blinking against the bright sunshine. He wasn’t allowed to recover, though, as his body was pushed back upright.

The six outside all gaped at him in horror. His face was forced into a smile as he lunged forward.

“Car!” Michael shouted, opening the door of the gray van parked in the driveway. Mark grabbed Stacy and ran for a second car parked on the street while the other three headed for the van. His head twitched back and forth between the two of them—no no no don’t hurt anyone don’t hurt anyone—and his body turned to the side, running after the four going into the van.

“No!” Rya kicked him back and tried to close the door, but she wasn’t as strong as Mark and she didn’t knock him back as far. He recovered quickly and leapt forward—and the van door slid closed, the metal edge crashing into his side. Another scream escaped the hold the creature had on his mind, and Rya flinched back.

“Here!” Leo grabbed something from the glove compartment and tossed it back to Rya, who caught it: a switchblade. She opened it up and drove it into his shoulder, and another scream came out—but then the creature tightened its hold, and the scream became a laugh. His hand shot out and grabbed Rya’s wrist, wrenching it to the side. Rya yelped in pain, and Diane lunged over from the other seat to pull her away.

His other hand reached up and tore the knife from where it was sticking in his shoulder. He slashed wildly, and Rya scrambled back as it tore through her clothes, causing bleeding cuts. Now that he had more room, he pushed the van door open and climbed further into the van, slamming it closed behind him.

Clunk.

The van doors locked. Michael’s eyes widened and he tried to unlock them again, but it didn’t work. It didn’t work at all. The four of them were trapped.

No no no no no—

Please no no no no no—

His body grinned and he lunged forward.

On the outside, Mark began to start the car, but Stacy grabbed onto his arm, stopping him. “Didn’t you see that?!” she hissed. “John went into the van! We have to help them!”

“Oh fuck!” Mark’s eyes widened. “Go go go go go!”

Stacy immediately left the car and ran towards the van, which was now shaking back and forth. The windows were tinted so she couldn’t see what was happening. Someone inside screamed. She tried to slide open one of the side doors. It didn’t move. She tried to pull open the doors on the back. They didn’t budge.

“They’re stuck!” Stacy looked back at the car. “What do we do?!”

“Hang on!” Mark was still at the car, rummaging around inside. “Got it!” He slammed the car door and ran on over. He was holding some sort of metal spike in one hand, and he slammed the pointy end into the driver’s side window. The glass shattered and crumpled instantly.

A pair of hands reached out, covered in blood, and Mark and Stacy grabbed one each and started to pull, trying to ignore the slick feeling beneath her hands. Michael tumbled out and collapsed on the floor, gasping. “What happened?!” Mark asked.

The doors at the back of the van opened. Stacy’s head whipped towards it. She saw blood dripping from the bottom... and then John stumbled out, breathing heavily. Lines of blood splatter covered his clothes. His mouth twitched, caught between a smile and a look of horror. Something trailed from the corner of his green eye. Not tears. Not blood. Not any liquid at all. Some sort of thin, black wire, ending in exposed copper. His right hand spasmed, dropping the knife it held. And no wonder. The fingers were crooked, nails broken, palm and back torn up and bleeding.

“John...” she breathed.

He didn’t answer. His head twitched, his eyes widened, and he collapsed—only to disappear from sight before he hit the ground. Stacy gasped and looked around, but he was nowhere in sight.

“copycat,” a whisper said in her ear. She could hear the frown in its voice.

She shuddered, and slowly walked around to the open doors in the back of the van. She stared into its interior. Splatters of blood covered the walls and seats, and three figures laid there. She couldn’t tell if they were breathing.

“Stacy!” Mark shouted over to her. “Call an ambulance!” He was busy checking Michael’s wounds.

She reached into her pocket and slowly took her phone out, dialing 911. When the operator picked up she stammered something about blood and urgency and then dropped the phone. It landed face-up, its screen showing that the call was still connected. She watched it idly... waiting for the call to end. Waiting for that glitchy thing to cut the connection.

Then she turned and headed back to the car, opening up the back door and climbing inside.

With the door closed, the outside world was muffled. As long as she didn’t look towards the driveway, she would be fine.

The seat shifted next to her. She felt a weight lean against her. “hey. how are you?”

Stacy laughed, her voice cracking. “How am I?! How do you think?!”

“i already know. it’s polite to ask.”

She shivered. “I-I don’t want—y-you can’t just—i-it’s creepy that you just know.”

“i can’t change what i am.”

There was no response to that. Stacy pulled her feet up onto the seat and buried her head in her knees. She felt that hand on her shoulder again.

“you don’t have to pretend,” it whispered. “i already know. it’s okay.”

And that was the final straw. Stacy started sobbing openly, tears soaking into the knees of her jeans. It was too much. It was all too much. For well over a year, she’d been hunted, had to run, been controlled, almost killed, had to fight off a glitchy thing that tried to hurt her kids, searched across the country for the only person who understood her, and found that he too was possessed by some creature that wanted to completely use his body. It was too much. It was way too much, for way too long. And now these horrible creatures wanted to use her and John to fight another one of them? What the hell could she do in the face of all this? 

Something leaned against her. For once, she didn’t reflectively flinch away. Instead, as she felt arms wrap around her, she leaned back and let Misery embrace her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mark ran over to the car, holding Stacy’s phone in one hand. “They said they’re gonna be here soon!” he shouted. “The four guys are—” Then he stopped. “...Stacy?”

The back seat of the car was empty.

* * * * * * * * * *

By the time Stacy stopped crying, she looked up, and she was somewhere else entirely. Sitting on the floor of a house. An empty house. With no furniture. The sky through the windows was black with night. This place looked familiar...

“get some rest.”

But it didn’t matter. She was tired. So, so, tired.

A hand rested on her shoulder. “take a break.”

Stacy shrugged it off. “I sat down for a long time, I’ve had enough.” She sat for long enough to see the sun dip close to the horizon. Out of curiosity, she looked up and searched for the sun... halfway below. It was a pretty sunset. She’d never seen one with mountains. But that meant it would be night soon, and she didn’t want to be out in the dark.

“i’d protect you,” a voice whispered, as if responding to her thoughts.

“I’ll just call Mark,” she muttered. “He can come pick me up.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone, opening up her contacts and choosing Mark’s number. The phone rang... and rang... and rang... and rang...

“it’s being blocked.”

Stacy flinched. But it was right. The call didn’t go through. It didn’t even reach the answering machine. She tried to send a couple texts, but all of them were highlighted with a red “Did Not Send” exclamation mark. “Why?” she muttered.

“phone is still under its effects.”

“That... glitchy thing that’s possessing John.”

“yes.”

“Why? We’re so far away now.”

“but you were so close.” Something leaned up against her. “don’t do that. it’s scary.”

Stacy spun around, barely catching a glimpse of its face before it disappeared. “You just don’t want to lose something you put so much hard work into,” she said.

It didn’t say anything in return. Nothing audible, at least. She could have sworn she heard some mumbled words that sounded... disappointed.

“I’ll find a way out of here eventually,” she said, mostly to herself, as she turned around and started walking again. She didn’t take too many turns. And besides, the suburbs weren’t endless. If she went straight in one direction, she would get out of here. It just might take a lot of walking.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Why aren’t any of my texts sending?” Mark stared down at his phone screen. Every single one of his messages was highlighted as unsent.

“Oh, uh, th-that’ll happen sometimes,” one of the house occupants said. Rya, right? “It can affect electronics. I tried to do my schoolwork while down there once and it deleted my whole essay.”

“Oh man. That sucks.” Mark sighed and looked around. This was a nice enough living room. A bit cheap-looking, but not enough to make a difference. Hard to believe there was a creature in the basement. The four house owners—he remembered their names but they hadn’t yet sunk in as to which was which—were all in here, too. They said they’d be happy to let him stay with them while he was in town. But he declined. He’d rather find Stacy and get a hotel room. There was just one problem with that. “Where could she have gone?”

“She’s never been here before, right?” another house owner—Diane?—asked. “There’s nowhere she would go?”

“If she’s been here, she’s never told me. And she’s told me about a lot of places she’s been to.” She got chased all over fucking Europe at one point. 

“We could try driving around and looking for her,” said one of the guys—Leo? “I know you already tried but maybe you’re not familiar with the layout or something.”

“I have a very good sense of direction, actually,” Mark said. “But if you’re offering, I’d, you know, appreciate it. The more eyes out there the better.”

Eyes...

An image of a green eye flashed through Mark’s mind as he remembered what happened in the basement. Luckily, he successfully prevented the instinctive flinch. He’s had a lot of practice with that, it’s not too hard to do.

“Alright.” The last one—Michael?—clapped his hands once and headed for the front door. “I’m the one who owns the car, so I’ll be right back. I’ll do a quick sweep through the neighborhood. If I’m not back in twenty minutes and haven’t texted, be worried.” And with that, he was gone.

“So, um...” Rya shifted on her feet. “Is there... anything we can do for you?”

“Well.” Mark hesitated. There was something he wanted to do. But he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. And in his experience, erring on the side of caution kept people alive when unnatural matters were concerned. But... god damn it, if this was a trap, he was falling for it. “I want to talk to the guy in the basement again.”

Rya and Diane exchanged surprised looks. Leo folded his arms. “Are you sure? Whatever happened last time was... W-we’d never seen anything like that happen. Not with this thing or any of the others we took care of. I don’t want to be the guy who got Markiplier killed.”

Mark laughed. It felt weird these days to hear himself referred to by his channel name. True, he was very well-known for it, but he’d been so busy with other things for the past few years that it felt more like a side business sometimes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stay down there for too long. And, uh... I’m pretty sure that whatever happened was... at least partially related to Stacy.” That gray thing that followed her got really upset when she was hurt. “So... I mean, I’m worried about her, but at least it... clears up a variable, I guess?”

“A bit grim, but... practical,” Diane said. “Alright. But we’re going down with you again. I’ll fucking... sit in the doorway so the door doesn’t suddenly close like before.”

“I don’t think that would keep the door from closing,” Rya said tentatively. “It actually might just... make you get locked in there.”

“Hmm. True.”

“Just wait outside again, it’s fine,” Mark said. “I’m not getting too close.”

And so they descended the stairs again. Mark took a deep breath, then opened the laundry room door and peered inside. The lights were on again. The pieces of the broken chair were scattered about the floor, coating the carpet in splintery pieces. Even the washer and dryer looked a bit dented. And right where he was before... there was the figure of a man. A man who Stacy called John. He was still except for the gentle rising and falling of his chest.

Mark hesitated. Then stepped into the room. “Good luck,” Rya whispered as the three others hung back. He nodded but said nothing.

The carpet crunched oddly with every step. Mark looked down and didn’t see anything strange at first... until he noticed a faint gleam of metal. Chips of some kind, small enough to be hidden between the fiber strands, coated the floor. Where did they come from?

He stopped well outside of John’s reach and stared at him. The rise and fall of his chest was even. That was... good. The rope around his neck had been tightened while he was struggling. That was... bad? But at least he was leaning back, not at risk of choking. One eye was closed. But that green eye was open and staring at Mark. He suppressed a shiver. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You.”

John opened his other eye. Its gaze immediately landed on Mark, and he stiffened slightly. “You’re back?” His voice was hoarse and raspy. No wonder, really. The housemates told Mark that screams and laughter kept coming from the basement for the whole time he was out driving and looking for Stacy. It only faded shortly before he returned.

“I’m back,” Mark said, careful to keep his voice clear of emotion. “And I have a question.”

A moment passed. John took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered. “What is it?”

Mark’s throat was suddenly dry. But he coughed and continued on. “You mentioned my friend Jack earlier.”

Immediately, John perked up, interested. He sat up as well as he was able. It was a bit difficult with his arms and legs still bound. “Yeah?” he asked, a strange emotion in his voice.

“Do you... know him?”

John laughed. Mark tensed and took a step back, one hand going to his pocket where he still had his knife. “D-do I—yeah. Y-yeah, I-I know him,” John said. “Of course I do. I’m ÞžőijĿ.”

“What?”

“I’m õ÷ĉů,” John repeated, more insistently.

Mark narrowed his eyes. It was weird that he couldn’t really understand what John was trying to say. And he didn’t trust weird things anymore. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but I don’t think it’s helpful.”

John slumped, leaning against the side of the washer. “Guess not,” he said dully.

Mark hesitated. Then he decided to continue. “What... what happened to Jack?”

“What do you think happened?”

“Wh...” Mark paused again. Should he answer that? “At first... I thought the stress was getting to him,” he said slowly. “Then I thought he was being stalked. Then... he disappeared. And I thought he ran off. And now... with everything that I’ve seen, I think something got to him. Something that... that he tried to tell the rest of us about.” Mark’s voice cracked a bit. He quickly moved on. “Something like one of you.”

John blinked, looking surprised. Then he laughed again. “You don’t think there’s a difference either...” he said quietly.

“What does that mean?” John didn’t answer the question, so Mark tried a new one. “Do you know what happened to Jack?”

John looked at him and nodded slowly.

“Is he...” He didn’t want to ask this question. But he had to have confirmation. “Is he dead?”

A moment passed. John kept staring at Mark. Then he looked away and sighed. “For all intents and purposes,” he murmured.

“What does that mean?”

“It means he can’t be saved.”

Mark’s heart dropped. He’d known that for a while. He’d known he was too late, too dismissive, too... deliberately ignorant. After all, he’d seen strange things all his life. Why was it weird when someone else did, too?

“You should get out of here,” John whispered. “Stacy, too. Just... both of you go home.” His breath hitched. “A-and more importantly... y-you should leave this room right now. Before... before it...” He was shaking slightly.

Mark didn’t say anything. He simply turned around and left.

* * * * * * * * * *

Stacy was still lost.

This was impossible. She had walked in a straight line back the way she came, how did she not recognize any of this?

Indeed, it was so impossible that she slowed her walking and really looked around. All of this was new. She’d never seen these houses before. They didn’t even look slightly familiar. And... wait a minute. When she looked behind her, there was an intersection. But she hadn’t walked across the street or turned a corner once.

This was impossible.

This was not normal.

“Are you doing this?” she whispered. “Do you not want me to go back to Mark and the others? You... you got into a fight with that thing possessing John. What, do you think it’ll still be angry with you?”

A hand on her shoulder. “it will be,” it whispered. “but this isn’t me doing this. i would not do this to you.”

Stacy frowned. She wasn’t sure if she believed it would never do something like this. But she believed that it wasn’t doing it now. Trapping people in eternal suburbs didn’t really seem to... fit with the rest of it. “Okay fine,” she muttered. “Can you... get me out of here? Like you did with that house?” She didn’t want to rely on it, but she couldn’t think of anything else. It was getting darker, and that was putting her on edge.

“i’ll try.” A pause. “go back again. turn that corner.”

Ah yes, the suddenly appearing intersection. Stacy sighs and turns back around, taking the corner.

“turn around again.”

She did. The intersection was still there.

“and back.”

She did. The houses were different.

“i understand now. walk—”

“Excuse me?”

Stacy jumped, and spun back around. The intersection was gone again, now a gently curving road. And standing on the other side of the street... was a boy. The moment he noticed her looking at him, he crossed the street. “I’m lost. Can you give me directions?”

The boy had brown hair with a poorly dyed black streak. He had blue eyes. And he had freckles. Stacy’s heart dropped at first. “Ma—” No. No, looking closer, it wasn’t Mathew. It was just... a kid around his same age, who had the same general features of him. That could be a coincidence, but given the looping suburbs... “Um, no, I’m sorry, I’m lost too.”

“Can I come with you, then?” the kid asked. “We can try to find places together.”

“Uh...” It pained a part of her to leave a kid alone. But she knew there was more to this kid than it appeared. And if she didn’t, the cautious hand on her shoulder would tell her everything she needed to know. “Sorry, I think it’s best if I just—go on my own.” She turned around—

“no, don’t!”

“Excuse me?”

Stacy spun back around. There was another kid standing next to the first one. Her heart stuttered. Dark hair, brown eyes, younger than the other—he could have been Larkin at first glance.

“So... you’re just gonna leave us?” asked the new kid.

“I’m... sure you can find your way,” Stacy said slowly. “You can ask the nice people living in these houses.”

“Why aren’t you doing that?” the first boy asked.

“Um—”

“Why are you going to leave us?” added the second.

“I-I’m not going to—” Stacy stopped herself before she finished that sentence. She shouldn’t say anything. She shouldn’t make promises.

“walk backwards.”

She jumped. “What?” she whispered.”

The grip on her shoulder tightened. “walk. backwards.”

Right. Listen to the supernatural entity that was weirdly invested in her life. Without turning around, Stacy started stepping away from the kids.

They stood there. Staring at her. “Why are you leaving us?” the first boy asked.

“You’re a grown-up, you’re supposed to protect kids,” the second said.

Stacy kept her mouth shut. Don’t engage. Don’t engage. That would probably just give them some sort of opening.

It was maddening to walk backwards, but she didn’t want to look away. She was ten feet away... twenty... thirty... 

And then the kids were running up to her.

Stacy yelped. She started to instinctively turn around but the grip on her shoulder tightened, holding her in place.

“Let us come with you!” the first one said.

“Let us be with you!” the second one said.

She tried to pick up the pace but she couldn’t run while facing backwards. The heels of her shoes were catching on sidewalk cracks. She started lifting her feet higher but that slowed her down.

The kids ran until they were within arm’s reach of her—and then, suddenly, stopped. Stacy almost stopped too, just out of shock, but no! No, she can’t stop! The sidewalk briefly dips down—she stumbled a little but kept her balance. Right, that was a spot where the curb dipped down for an intersection. She didn’t trust her backwards walking skills while crossing the street so she turned instead, slowing for a bit. The kids stayed where they were.

She kept walking. Why was her heart beating so fast? Why was it—

There was whispering behind her. Not the whispers she’d come to know. These sounded different. Harsher. She started to turn, but—

“no!” The grip tightened again. “tricks. deception.”

Stacy stiffened and stayed facing the right way. Of course. They were trying to get her to look.

“If you don’t turn around and look at me I’m going to gut you like a fish,” a voice whispered.

She didn’t turn.

“I’ll kill these children.”

“Miss, help us!”

She flinched, but didn’t turn.

“I’ll do it.”

“Please! Please, miss!” 

“We’re going to die!”

Tears started clouding her vision, but she didn’t turn around.

And then—screaming. High screaming, terrified and in pain, accompanied by meaty splattering sounds. She stopped walking, breathing heavily. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

In a second, the sounds were gone.

She stood there. Listening. But there was nothing.

So she started walking backwards agai

Shrieks pierced the air. The two kids—the two things shaped like kids—came sprinting around the corner, limbs flailing, heads swinging.

“now run!”

Stacy didn’t waste time following its advice. She turned and ran—and the reason why she could was clear. The end of the neighborhood was in sight. The small road she’d been walking next to joined up to a busy street. Cars were passing by, headlights and street lamps providing a goal she could reach. Her feet pounded on the pavement as she pushed herself to reach it. It was so close!

“Don’t leave us!” the kids screamed, and they sounded so much like Mathew and Larkin.

Stacy didn’t look back. Thirty feet—twenty feet—ten—She paused for a moment, waiting for a clearing in the cars, then ran across the street in a move that would’ve made her real kids call her a hypocrite. The moment she had both feet on the opposite sidewalk, she stopped, breathing heavily. She could feel her heartbeat in her neck. Slowly, she turned and looked back across the street...

There was no one there.

“Oh thank god,” Stacy breathed. Some of these things were stuck in place, she was so glad these were one of them. Which reminded her... “How are you with me?” she asked the thing behind her. “I-I thought you were stuck in that house.”

It shifted slightly. “not now.”

“Why n—”

“it’s not over.”

A pair of voices sounded behind her. “Eexxccuussee mmee?”

Stacy froze... then slowly turned.

The kids were there. Their eyes were pitch black. “Ttaakkee uuss wwiitthh yyoouu,” they said in unison.

“Fuck!” Stacy scrambled backwards, then turned and ran.

“TTAAKKEE UUSS WWIITTHH YYOOUU!!”

She didn’t look behind her. She kept running down the street. Past the empty lot that was across from the neighborhood, reaching a parking lot that was near empty, running past that, approaching a small strip mall lined with shops and the occasional restaurant. She could hear little feet behind her. She could hear little lungs breathing. They were getting closer. They were getting closer. They were getting closer, she had to get somewhere safe! 

The first store she reached was a small coffee shop. She didn’t recognize the name, something local, maybe, but this wasn’t the time! She reached for the door before she was even in arm’s length of it—

The door opened first.

She stopped. Behind her, the little steps stopped, too.

There was... something... standing in the doorway. It was hard to describe. Thin. Bony, even. And wearing a red hoodie with the hood pulled up. She couldn’t identify the features, but she knew what this was. “Jacqueline?” she whispered.

It grinned. “Been a while, Stacy.” Then it looked past her, at the little things behind her. It took a step forward, letting the shop door close behind it. “Why don’t you... run along? You’re too new for this.”

“Yyeess msaiarm!” The words blended together, ‘sir’ and ‘maam’ overlapping. Stacy glanced back and saw two kids—that did not resemble her sons in the least—scrambling back and running away.

Stacy slowly turned back around, staring at the thing that had once pretended to be her friend. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“Looking for you two,” it said, eyes flicking over her shoulder once more.

Her stomach dropped. “Was that—was that planned?! Like with that weird house?!”

“No... but it’s lucky.” It shrugged. “Now. You’re confused, right? You’ve probably been wondering for a while why we’re going to such lengths to follow you everywhere. Well... come inside.” Its head jerked back to the shop’s door behind it. “I’ll explain everything.”

Stacy hesitated. Like hell she wanted to follow this thing anywhere, to do anything it wanted her to do. But... there was a hand on her shoulder. And it was grinning at her, staring. It could go anywhere, right? Wouldn’t it just... find her again? “Fine,” she said tiredly.

“Thank you.” The thing in the red hood turned around and headed back into the shop. A bell dings as it pushes the door open. Stacy trails after it, looking around the cafe. There’s a table running along one wall with tall chairs. A small sitting area with coffee tables and leather sofas. No traditional tables or booths. Faint pop music plays in the air. It’s almost... cozy. Until Stacy looks into the decorative mirror behind the counter and sees the gray thing lurking behind her. She shivers.

“Go sit down,” says the thing in the red hood. “I’ll order for us.”

“...okay.” She probably doesn’t have much choice, does she? Besides, her stomach is growling with the scent of coffee shop pastries in the air. She drifts over to the nearest sofa and sits down.

The leather squeaks slightly. She feels something heavy get onto the sofa.

“hey.”

It sat down next to her.

Stacy doesn’t look in that direction. Instead, she concentrates on looking out the glass storefront. “Why me?” she whispered. “Why did you... latch onto me? Why not anyone else who lived in that house before me?”

Silence for a moment. “we’re alike,” it said..

“No, we’re not.”

“don’t lie.”

Stacy went quiet. No use arguing.

After a minute or two, the thing in the red hood is back. “Here we are,” it said cheerfully, setting down a coffee cup and two paper pastry bags on the coffee table in front of her. “You looked hungry.” It sat on the sofa across from hers. There was another cup in its hand, but it wasn’t drinking. “Probably best to say thank you right now. Bad manners can get you killed.”

“Is that a threat?” Stacy asked, feeling uncharacteristically bold.

It smiled. “No. I’d never do that. But others would.”

Stacy stared at it for a second. She tried to describe its features in her mind, but all she could come up with was... two eyes above a nose above a mouth. And that was no help at all. She sighed. “Thank you,” she mumbled, looking inside the pastry bags. A croissant and a chocolate muffin. And the drink was a mocha latte with whipped cream. Her usual order. She picked up the croissant and took a couple bites as it stared at her. Then she swallowed. “You said you would explain everything.”

“Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration.” The smile widened. Could smiles go that far? “Not everything. But I’ll explain what we want.”

Stacy laughed. “I think your friend has made it clear what it wants from me.” The weight on the sofa next to her shifted. “I’m supposed to... stay with it, right?”

“Misery loves company,” it said idly.

“I feel like you... people... say that a lot.”

“Because it’s true. Misery—” It pointed at the spot next to her. “—loves company. Of any kind. Living... or not. Sometimes not is easier.”

Stacy paused. “Misery,” she repeated. The weight shifted again. Something was pressing against her. “Is... is that your name?”

“close enough.”

“I-I didn’t know you... had... names.”

“We need to be referred to somehow,” the thing in the red hood said. “These days I like being Sangria.”

“Sangria,” Stacy repeated. She took a deep breath. “Alright, Sangria. If... if I already know what you want with me, why shouldn’t I leave right now?” It was a bluff. She didn’t think they would let her.

Sangria chuckled, like it knew she was bluffing and found it amusing. “Because there’s so much more going on than what you think,” it said. “Like, what’s happening with your friend ŧģùõIJ. Oh, sorry, you call him John, don’t you?”

Stacy stiffened. “What do you... Wh-what do you mean?” She stammered. “Is there... more going on?”

“I’ll assume you figured some things out.” Sangria raised the coffee cup, but still didn’t drink, just swirled it around. “You know that John was claimed—though, not in the same way as you. You know he went back to it to protect you and your kids. You know it’s with him now, don’t you?”

Stacy nodded slowly. She looked at the window again. Rain was starting to fall. Slowly, one droplet at a time.

“The one with John is too powerful.”

“Too powerful?” Stacy repeated, confused.

“it’s so new,” misery whispered in her ear.

“New?” Stacy paused. “You mean... young?”

“No, but if that helps you understand it,” Sangria said. “Usually the older ones are stronger. With some exceptions. But even those exceptions grow their power slowly.” It nodded at the spot next to Stacy. She felt the weight against her shift. “ø¡Œ©ŗ is growing strong fast. And that’s worrying.”

Stacy laughed. “What? Afraid it’ll come after you?”

Sangria stared at her until she stopped laughing.

“You... you... are,” Stacy whispered. “You’re scared of whatever’s got a hold of John.”

“It’s shown many times that it doesn’t care how strong you are,” Sangria said quietly. “Because it is stronger. Or... it will be. Soon. It’s a bit of a copycat. We’ve been stuck for so long, wondering but not coming up with an idea that could work... until it claimed John.”

“Why?” Stacy clenched her coffee cup tightly. “Are you—are you going to use him?” Why did she even bother to ask? These things didn’t care about human life or wellbeing. That was clear by now. Of course they were going to use him. “How? Wh-what are you going to do?”

Sangria smiled and said nothing.

“Y-you can’t just—you said you would explain!” she cried.

“And I did. I’m sorry you don’t like the explanation.” Sangria laughed. “Don’t worry... you’ll be fine. And so will your kids.”

“I-I don’t just care about me and my kids! John is my friend!”

“You don’t even know his name.”

“I—he’s never told me!” Stacy said defensively.

It laughed again. “He has. But you’re right. That’s not fair. It’s not his fault he was ĒŴÔľñêāŷŀÁëÀĘŞÞéŖ¸Õ. It’s »śÎÇ’s fault. Which is why you want to stop it, right? To help your friend?”

“I...” Stacy did want to help John. She couldn’t deny that. But... “If you get him killed... How is that helping?” she whispered.

“sometimes dying is better.”

She shuddered. “No... i-it never is.”

“you didn’t always think that.”

“Shut up!” She spun to look at the thing next to her. Its blackened, dripping eyes were inches from her face. And then it disappeared. But... the weight on the sofa didn’t. It merely shifted farther away.

“John, as you call him, has been through a lot,” Sangria said. “Maybe he would agree.”

“Sh-shut up, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.” She wasn’t sure how she knew that so strongly, but she knew it.

Sangria shrugged. “Alright. We’ll see if he can make it out of it alive.”

Stacy swallowed a lump in her throat. It was no use arguing this. “What about me? What... what part am I going to play?”

“He’s your friend. You’re his. You help each other. You’re going to help him do what he has to.”

“And what is that?”

“Well, we can’t tell you that,” Sangria said patiently, as one would be when explaining something to a grumpy child. “What if Ą®Ùßũ knew what you were thinking? It’s very good at getting inside like that. Just listen to Misery. Alright? It’s trying to help.”

“N-no, you can’t expect me to—to go with whatever you want!” Stacy tried to stand up defiantly—but a hand on her shoulder brought her back down. Its grip was tight in a way it had never been before.

Sangria stood up instead. “Thanks for the coffee,” it said, setting the cup down on the table. Then it turned and walked out the front door. The bell should have chimed. It didn’t.

Stacy stared down at the cup on the table. Out of curiosity, she reached forward and picked it up. It was empty. Had it been the whole time? Or had it been drained without Sangria drinking a single drop? She didn’t think there was a way to tell.

Then her phone chimed.

Where are you? It was from Mark.

Stacy texted the name of the coffee shop. It’s in a strip mall somewhere, I dunno where exactly. Sorry. I can check the address if you want.

A moment passed. Then: I’m close.

Stacy raised her eyebrows in surprise. Well... maybe this strip mall wasn’t too far from the house, then. Good. She could wait. Hopefully the shop wouldn’t close soon and she could wait here for Mark instead of walking out into the now-pouring rain.

She stared at the pastries and coffee on the table. Her stomach growled. As much as she didn’t want to eat or drink anything that one of these... horrors brought her... she was too hungry not to. And maybe it was a foolish thought, but she couldn’t help but feel they wouldn’t do anything to her. Not after... whatever plan they had in mind. Granted, Sangria could have been lying, but... but nothing. She was just really hungry.

After she finished the croissant and had about half the coffee left, she got another text: I’m closer.

Well... that was worrying. Was this... actually Mark? Or was it...?

Stacy glanced around. The coffee shop was empty except for her and the employees. But she didn’t know those employees, did she? What if they weren’t human? No, no. As she looked at them, she got flashes of their lives. All the bad parts. All extremely human. But that didn’t mean she was safe.

What about the phone itself? It had a camera, what if that glitchy thing could see though it? Quickly, she shoved the phone into her pocket. Good. But what about other people’s phones?

God, was this how John had been living for years? How did he get through it without losing his mind?

...Did he get through it?

Her text tone went off. Slowly, she took the phone out again. I’m here.

Here?! Where?! Who was here?! Quickly, she stood up, glancing around for somewhere to hide. Nowhere! There was nowhere. She ran forward. Maybe—yes, that plant in the corner was the best idea—at least if she didn’t want to jump over the counter—Could she jump over the counter? The employees would only mind if she was wrong—

The front door’s bell chimed. Stacy whirled to look at—Mark. It was Mark. Definitely him. She was getting the same flashes of memory as before when she looked at him. “Hey,” he said. “I, uh... noticed you standing in here looking around... I parked out here. Right in front. So you wouldn’t get wet, you know, from the rain.”

Stacy laughed. “Yeah, yeah. I—yeah. Thanks.” She walked over to him.

“Everything... okay?” Mark asked.

She took a deep breath. “A lot happened. Uh... did you send these texts?” She showed him.

“Oh yeah.”

“Why’d you make them so ominous?!”

“They’re not ominous! I was close!”

She laughed again. “You were, you were. It didn’t take you too long to get here.” The laughter faded. “Let’s... go. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Mark nodded, and the two of them walked out to the car.

As soon as Stacy got inside, she looked down at the spot in between the two front seats... and saw her coffee cup and her muffin in the cupholders.

“you forgot them,” a voice whispered behind her.