Remember | Chapter 4
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"I think I'm going to die in this house"
-Charli xcx
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It has been a month.
A whole month since I last knew what normal was.
That first night in the sheriff's office has felt like months not weeks. I remember spending the rest of that night just staring. Just staring at the wall, realizing this was my life now.
Kenny and Boyd haven't told anyone else within the town about that night. About how this town knows me. Knows me better than I know myself.
Since that first night, I have many sleepless nights of constant tossing and turning. Clawing at my ears to stop hearing the whispers of the monsters that lie amongst us. I still don't know why or how I am connected to this place.
Despite the many questions this place leaves me with, I have found some type of routine out here.
Routine.
Just knowing I have a routine or normalcy in this place is too much to even think about.
I chose to stay within town rather than Colony house.
Colony House felt loud. Too many people. Too many questions. Too many eyes.
The town felt quieter. Safer somehow.
Or maybe I just found people there easier to understand.
Boyd helped where he could. Kenny checked in more often than he probably realized.
And then there was Sara.
Out of everyone here, she was the one I found myself gravitating toward most.
Which probably said concerning things about both of us.
Sara wasn't much of a talker. Neither was I when I wasn't actively trying to fill silence. We existed beside each other more than anything else.
I helped her in the diner most days. Or we would simply take walks around town with a comment here and there.
I was staying with her and her brother, Nathan. Since it was just the two of them, they had ample room for me.
Sara and I had the routine of sitting on the porch as long as we could. Boyd would always come by with his bell and usher us inside. Both of us miss the night. Just existing within the stillness of the night.
After the first week is when I noticed how different she was from the others. How alike we were.
I noticed how sometimes she would suddenly tense and run out of the room. I would find her mumbling to herself. I never said anything. I would simply help her up and sit with her til she felt clear again.
I never pushed her to talk about it. Nor did she push me to talk about my own issues at night.
So many nights were met with my screams. When I did sleep, it was full of monstrous nightmares.
Nightmares of the monsters, of a man, of darkness.
Sara would always come into my room on those nights. She would simply lie with me til I caught my breath.
No questions. We simply just understood each other.
The funny thing was, I don't think either of us understood ourselves.
I knew I didn't.
Most days, I helped at the diner. It kept my hands busy and my mind occupied. The alternative was sitting alone with my thoughts, and I had learned long ago that nothing good came from that.
The townspeople had mostly stopped looking at me like I was the newest tragedy.
Now I was simply another resident.
Another poor soul stuck here.
I wasn't sure whether that was comforting or depressing.
Probably both.
The sight of fresh dirt beneath my boots answers that question for me.
The town stands gathered around two newly dug graves.
A mother.
A daughter.
Gone in a single night.
The spring air feels unusually cold as I stare at the small headstone before me. The smaller of the two.
Megan Pratt.
My chest tightens.
Boyd had explained what happened.
The little girl had opened the window.
Just a child being curious.
Just a child who thought the smiling woman outside looked friendly.
I swallow hard.
It's impossible not to think about it.
At her age, I would've done the same thing.
Most kids would've.
The monsters know that.
That's what makes them monsters.
Around me, the townspeople stand in silence. Heads bowed. Faces tired. Some grieving. Others simply numb.
One month here has taught me that death isn't rare.
That doesn't make it easier.
Father Khatri stands before the graves, Bible in hand, his voice carrying softly across the cemetery.
I try to listen.
I really do.
But my attention keeps drifting.
The unease beneath my ribs has been restless all morning.
Like something is coming.
Like the town itself is holding its breath.
As Father Khatri continues speaking, movement catches my eye beyond the gathered crowd.
A vehicle.
My stomach drops instantly.
Not one of ours.
New.
The RV rolls slowly into town.
--
A few minutes later, we were speeding down a dirt road toward the crash site.
The farther we drove from town, the tighter my stomach became.
Not because of the monsters.
Not yet.
Because of the trees.
The woods always felt different.
Like they were listening.
When we finally arrived, my breath caught.
The RV had flipped.
The massive vehicle lay on its side among broken trees and scattered debris.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then everyone started moving at once.
And suddenly the reality became clear.
The RV wasn't going anywhere.
The vehicle rested on its side among broken branches and churned earth.
For a moment, everyone just stared.
Then Boyd started issuing orders.
And suddenly the crash site exploded into motion.
People moved toward the RV.
Questions were shouted.
Most went unanswered.
I found myself helping Kristi climb through one of the shattered windows.
The inside looked worse than I expected.
Luggage and debris were scattered everywhere. Broken glass glittered across the floor.
Or wall.
Or whatever counted as the floor when an RV was lying on its side.
"You okay?" Kristi asked.
I nodded.
"Ask me again when I stop finding new bruises."
A small laugh escaped her.
For someone dealing with a medical emergency, she looked remarkably calm.
Or maybe she was just good at pretending.
A voice shouted from outside.
"Kris!"
I glanced through the broken window.
Kenny.
Of course.
He was carrying a medical bag that looked far too heavy.
Kristi immediately climbed back toward the opening.
"You brought everything?"
"I brought half the clinic."
"Only half?"
Kenny rolled his eyes.
"I had to leave some things behind."
Their exchange was quick.
Comfortable.
Practiced.
Something about it made me smile.
Even here. Even now.
The two of them seemed to find each other naturally.
Like they'd had this conversation a hundred times before.
Kristi took the bag from him.
Their hands brushed.
Neither reacted.
Which somehow made it more obvious.
Interesting.
Kenny caught me looking.
I immediately looked away.
Something unpleasant twists in my stomach.
I decide it's stress.
That explanation feels safer.
"Don't," he whispers to me.
Kenny's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
I look up.
He's staring directly at me now.
"What?"
His eyes narrow slightly.
"You have a look."
"A look?"
"The look you get before you say something."
I blink innocently.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
A shout from deeper inside the RV cut the conversation short.
And we are back to work.
Time seemed to pass.
The sun continued sinking.
And every minute made the situation worse.
Ethan couldn't be moved safely.
Not yet.
Every attempt to come up with another option ended the same way.
Too dangerous.
Too risky.
Not enough time.
The realization settled over everyone slowly.
Then all at once.
We weren't getting back before dark.
I saw the exact moment Boyd accepted it.
His shoulders dropped. Just slightly.
But enough.
The decision had been made.
A talisman would be placed inside the RV.
The windows would be covered.
And whoever remained inside would stay there until morning.
Nobody looked happy about it.
Especially Kenny.
"What about Kristi?" he asked immediately.
Boyd's jaw tightened.
"What about her?"
"She's staying?"
"She has to."
Something flickered across Kenny's face.
Worry.
Raw and immediate.
Like the answer had already been keeping him up at night.
My stomach twisted unexpectedly.
Kenny looked away.
Toward the woods.
Toward the darkening sky.
Anywhere but at Kristi.
I suddenly felt like I was witnessing something private.
Something neither of them intended anyone else to see.
Kristi stepped closer.
"Kenny."
He looked back at her immediately.
Not after a second.
Not after a pause.
Immediately.
She offered him a small smile.
The kind meant to reassure someone.
The kind that never actually works.
"I'll be okay."
Kenny let out a breath.
"You better."
The words were simple.
But something passed between them anyway.
Familiarity.
History.
Trust.
All the things that come from knowing someone longer than a few weeks.
The knot in my stomach tightened again.
I ignored it.
Or tried to.
Because it wasn't my business.
And because I had absolutely no reason to care.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Boyd cleared his throat loudly.
The moment vanished instantly.
I pretended not to notice.
The sun dipped lower.
Boyd rubbed a hand over his face.
"We need someone else in here."
Nobody volunteered.
Shocking.
Then Boyd looked at me.
Immediately suspicious.
"No."
"I haven't said anything."
"You looked at me."
Boyd sighed.
Kristi laughed quietly.
Traitor.
"We need another set of hands," Boyd said.
I looked around.
"There are literally people everywhere."
"Not people I trust."
That was annoyingly nice of him.
And annoyingly effective.
Before I could come up with another argument, Kristi spoke.
"I'd appreciate the help."
I froze.
That was unfair.
Very unfair.
Because now saying no felt terrible.
I glanced toward the woods.
Toward the darkening horizon.
Toward Kenny.
His attention was still on Kristi.
Still watching her.
Still worrying.
Something unpleasant stirred in my chest.
I immediately decided it was stress.
Because obviously it was stress.
We were discussing spending the night trapped in an overturned RV surrounded by monsters.
That seemed like a reasonable explanation.
Much more reasonable than whatever else my brain was trying to suggest.
A second later, Kenny finally looked over at me.
His expression immediately told me he hated this plan too.
Which honestly wasn't helping.
Then he said,
"Stay near the talisman."
I blinked.
That was it?
Not don't go.
Not you shouldn't stay.
Just—
Stay near the talisman.
Like he'd already accepted he wasn't changing anyone's mind.
"That's the advice you're giving me?"
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"It's the most important one."
And just like that, I found myself preparing to spend the night trapped inside an overturned RV.
Again.
My life had become ridiculous
--
After an emotional goodbye between the Matthews family, we were officially stuck in the RV.
It was me, Boyd, Kristi, the father of the young boy, and the boy himself, Ethan.
"Are we sure this is even going to work?" I whisper towards Boyd.
Boyd looks at me.
Stress controls every line of his face.
The expression alone is enough to answer my question.
"No," he says honestly.
I blink.
"...Oh."
Boyd lets out a tired breath.
"We know the talismans work in houses."
That isn't reassuring.
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
Outside, the woods creak softly in the evening wind.
The sound immediately makes me regret asking questions.
The inside of the RV feels impossibly small.
Every shift of weight makes the vehicle groan.
Every shadow feels too dark.
Across from us, Ethan lies bundled in blankets while Kristi checks his injury for what feels like the hundredth time.
His father hovers nearby.
Watching.
Worrying.
Trying not to panic.
I recognize the look.
Everyone who arrives here gets that look eventually.
Some just get it faster than others.
I pull my knees closer to my chest.
The silence stretches.
Nobody seems eager to fill it.
The last rays of sunlight disappear through the broken windows.
Darkness settles over the woods.
My stomach immediately tightens.
There it is.
Night.
Even after a few weeks, I haven't gotten used to it.
I don't think anyone ever does.
A few minutes pass.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
Nothing happens.
The quiet somehow makes everything worse.
I find myself listening.
Waiting. Bracing.
The same way I always have.
A branch snaps somewhere outside.
Every head turns.
My pulse jumps.
Nobody speaks.
Another snap.
Closer this time.
The woods seem to hold their breath.
And then-
Footsteps.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Circling.
A chill races down my spine.
The footsteps continue.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Slowly moving around the overturned RV.
Like someone inspecting it.
Like someone curious.
Boyd's hand tightens around the gun resting in his lap.
I notice it because it is the first time I've ever seen him look genuinely nervous.
Not concerned.
Not stressed.
Nervous.
And somehow that terrifies me more than the footsteps.
Because Boyd is the one person in this town who always seems to know what to do.
If he's worried—
maybe we should be too.
Then the footsteps stop.
Silence.
Complete silence.
The kind that presses against your ears.
My heart pounds.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
And then a friendly voice drifts through the darkness.
"Is everyone okay in there?"
Every muscle in my body locks.
A man.
The voice sounds friendly.
Warm.
Normal.
Jim looks over to us. Confusion floods his features.
"They came back for us. They came back," Jim says, "Aren't you going to let them in?"
My breath hitches. This could be it. If Jim makes one wrong move, we are all dead.
I look over to Boyd, he shakes his head slightly.
"No," he says simply.
"Why? Why keep them waiting?" Jim retorts.
"I'm not letting them in," Boyd says sternly.
The tension within the RV rises.
Jim looks around at all us.
"Well, then I'll let them in," he states simply.
Kristi and I begin pleading, telling him to wait.
He gets up and moves towards the doors.
Boyd quickly moves in the way to stop him.
It all happens so quickly.
Jim fights back and then within a few seconds Boyd has him in a headlock. He speaks to him through gritted teeth.
"They are not people, they are not here to help, Jim."
Jim struggles in his arms.
"You good?" Boyd tells him. Jim just grunts.
Boyd lets him go finally, and Jim seems to get the memo not to open the door.
Finally, I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.
The silence that follows feels deafening.
Jim sits against the opposite wall, breathing hard. His face is flushed with anger and embarrassment. Boyd remains standing for another moment, watching him carefully before finally sitting back down.
Nobody speaks.
Nobody seems to know what to say.
Outside, the voices continue.
My hands are shaking.
I don't realize it until I look down and see them.
God.
We almost died.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the RV.
I bring my hand to my racing heart.
That was too close.
--
The young boy, Ethan, speaks up.
Every head turns toward him.
The boy is awake.
Jim immediately moves to his side.
"Ethan? Hey, buddy."
A small whimper escapes Ethan as he shifts.
His face pinches with pain.
Kristi is beside him instantly.
"Easy, sweetheart. Don't move."
She carefully examines his leg, her expression growing more concerned with every passing second.
"What is it?" Jim asks.
"I need to do something for the pain before I work on his leg."
Her voice is steady.
Professional.
But I notice the tension in her shoulders.
The exhaustion.
The pressure.
We've all been through hell today, and somehow she's expected to keep a child comfortable while trapped in an overturned RV surrounded by monsters.
Kristi begins digging through her medical bag.
A moment later she pulls out a syringe.
Jim's eyes immediately lock onto it.
"What is that?"
"A sedative," Kristi says. "Just enough to help him relax."
Ethan's face immediately crumples.
"No."
"It's okay," Jim says gently.
"It's going to help."
The boy starts crying anyway.
I don't blame him.
I'd probably cry too.
Kristi works quickly, speaking softly the entire time.
Within a few minutes, Ethan's breathing begins to slow.
His eyelids grow heavier.
Eventually, he drifts back to sleep.
The tension in the RV eases slightly.
Only slightly.
Kristi checks his pulse.
"Strong."
She exhales.
"I think we're ready."
As she begins arranging her supplies, a familiar voice drifts through the darkness outside.
"You really should have let us in."
My stomach drops.
The room immediately goes still.
Jim looks toward Boyd.
"What happens if they get in?"
Nobody answers.
Outside, soft laughter echoes through the woods.
Jim looks between us.
"What happens?"
"Jim..." Boyd says quietly.
Jim doesn't let it go.
"What happens if they get in?"
My chest tightens.
Every instinct inside me is screaming at him to stop asking.
Stop engaging.
Stop listening.
Boyd's expression hardens.
"You don't want to know."
Jim shakes his head.
"You have a gun. Use it."
"'Cause it won't do any good," Boyd replies.
The certainty in his voice sends a chill down my spine.
Jim looks unconvinced.
Of course he does.
A few hours ago he was driving his family down a highway.
Now he's trapped in a nightmare.
He pushes himself to his feet.
"We have to try something."
Immediately, he moves toward one of the covered windows.
My pulse spikes.
"Jim—"
His hand reaches toward the covering.
"Stop."
The word leaves my mouth before I even realize I'm speaking.
Everyone looks at me.
Including Jim.
I've barely exchanged more than a handful of words with the man.
Why would he listen?
Still, I find myself continuing.
"Please."
My voice sounds smaller than I want it to.
"Just listen to Boyd."
Jim hesitates.
Only for a second.
Boyd stands.
"The only way they get in is if we let them in."
As if responding to him, laughter erupts outside.
The sound crawls beneath my skin.
The RV door rattles violently.
Kristi jumps.
I nearly do too.
The metal shakes against its frame.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
My heart slams against my ribs.
The monsters laugh.
The sound comes from every direction now.
Kristi rushes toward the door.
"Is it secure?"
Her breathing is becoming uneven.
"What if the talisman doesn't work? What if—"
Boyd immediately steps in front of her.
"Hey."
His hands settle firmly on her shoulders.
"Kristi."
She looks up.
"This is what they do."
The rattling continues.
"They want us scared."
Another bang against the RV.
"They want us to panic."
Kristi swallows hard.
"You know how this works."
For a moment, she just stares at him.
Trying to believe him. Trying to remember.
Then, we hear them.
Footsteps.
Heavy footsteps.
Directly above us.
The roof groans.
Every head tilts upward.
Something is walking on top of the RV.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Like it's inspecting us.
Kristi's composure finally cracks.
I see it happen.
The fear.
The exhaustion.
The reality of where we are.
Without thinking, I move beside her.
I take her hand.
Her fingers are ice cold.
"Hey."
She looks at me.
I force a smile I don't entirely feel.
"Let's focus on what's in here."
Another footstep sounds overhead.
I ignore it.
Or at least pretend to.
"We're safe."
The words are as much for me as they are for her.
"Just stay here with me, okay?"
Kristi takes a shaky breath.
Then another.
Gradually, her grip on my hand loosens.
Across the RV, Boyd watches us.
For the first time all night, some of the tension leaves his face.
He gives me a small nod.
A silent thank you.
I return it.
Outside, the monsters continue circling.
Above us, footsteps continue pacing across the roof.
But for now-
The door remains shut.
And we're still alive.
--
Finally, Kristi and I were able to successfully treat the boy's leg.
Kristi, mostly.
I was there for moral support.
Now Ethan slept peacefully beside his father, the sedative helping him rest through the worst of the pain.
The RV had fallen quiet again.
Well, as quiet as it could be with monsters wandering around outside.
Sitting against the wall, I just stare.
My heart had finally settled.
My hands, however, had not gotten the memo.
No matter how tightly I clasped them together, they continued trembling.
Adrenaline.
Fear.
Exhaustion.
Probably all three.
Across the RV, Kristi was organizing supplies while Jim sat watch beside Ethan.
Boyd eventually made his way over and lowered himself onto the floor beside me.
For a few moments, neither of us spoke.
The RV creaked softly around us.
Outside, distant footsteps drifted through the woods.
Boyd leaned his head back against the wall.
"Tough night."
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
"Tough night?"
His mouth twitches.
"I was trying not to undersell it."
I shake my head.
A small smile manages to appear despite everything.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
Then Boyd glances down.
At my hands. Still shaking.
I immediately tuck them beneath my arms.
As if that somehow fixes it.
It doesn't.
Boyd notices anyway.
"You're doing alright."
It isn't a question.
I stare ahead.
"No."
The answer slips out before I can soften it.
Boyd nods.
Like that's the response he expected.
"Yeah."
Another silence settles between us.
Comfortable this time.
Or as comfortable as anything can be in a flipped RV surrounded by monsters.
Eventually Boyd speaks again.
"You helped Kristi."
I shrug.
"I handed her things."
"You kept her calm."
That makes me glance over at him.
Boyd is still looking forward.
Still listening to the sounds outside.
"You saw her."
His voice is quiet.
"She was starting to spiral."
I look down at my hands again.
"They were walking on the roof."
Boyd lets out a breath through his nose.
"Yeah."
"Which feels like a reasonable thing to spiral over."
That earns a small laugh.
A real one. Short. But real.
The first I've heard from him all night.
"Fair point."
For a second, the tension eases.
Just a little.
Then Boyd's expression softens.
"You did good."
The words hit harder than they should.
Maybe because nobody has said them to me in a very long time.
Maybe because I didn't realize how badly I needed to hear them.
I look away before he notices.
"Don't make it weird."
Boyd chuckles.
"There she is."
I roll my eyes.
The smile that appears is small.
But genuine.
For the first time since the crash, I feel something besides fear.
Not safety.
Not exactly.
Just...
Less alone.
Outside, something laughs in the darkness.
Neither of us looks toward the sound.
For once, we ignore it.
And for a little while, that's enough.
Beside us, Ethan begins to stir awake.
Jim immediately leans toward him.
"Hey, buddy."
Ethan blinks slowly.
The sedative is still making him groggy.
"I saw it," he says weakly.
Jim smooths a hand through his hair.
"What'd you see?"
Ethan's eyes drift toward the ceiling of the RV.
"The Lake of Tears."
My stomach drops.
The reaction is immediate.
Sharp.
Like missing a step in the dark.
I sit up straighter before I can stop myself.
Beside me, Boyd glances over.
Probably noticing my reaction.
I don't even notice his gaze.
Because all I can hear are those three words.
Lake of Tears.
The name settles somewhere deep inside me.
Familiar.
Not familiar enough to recognize.
Just enough to hurt.
Like remembering a dream the second before it disappears.
My chest tightens.
Jim smiles at Ethan.
"The Lake of Tears?"
Ethan nods weakly.
"It's from my book."
The knot in my stomach doesn't loosen. Not even a little.
Because somehow I know that's not why I reacted.
And judging by the way Boyd is looking at me now.
He noticed it too.
--
I lie staring at the ceiling.
The sun should be up any minute now.
At least, I hope it should.
Time feels strange during nights like this.
Kristi lies beside me, softly snoring despite everything. I honestly don't know how she managed it.
Across the RV, Boyd sits against the wall with his arms crossed.
His eyes are closed.
But I can tell he's awake.
Jim sits beside Ethan, watching over him like if he looks away for even a second, something terrible might happen.
I wish I could sleep.
I tried.
God, I tried.
But every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts came rushing back.
The Lake of Tears.
The words keep replaying in my head.
A place from a child's story shouldn't affect me this much.
Yet every time I think about it, that same feeling returns.
Like I'm forgetting something important.
Something just out of reach.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I want my brain to stop.
Just for a minute.
Just one moment of peace.
Beside me, Kristi suddenly jerks awake.
Her breathing is fast.
Panicked.
For a second, her eyes dart around the RV as if she's forgotten where she is.
I immediately push myself upright and place a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey."
She looks at me.
"It's okay," I say softly. "We're okay."
For a moment, her chest continues rising and falling too quickly.
Then recognition settles across her face.
The RV.
The crash.
The night.
She lets out a slow breath.
"Sorry," she mutters.
"You don't need to apologize."
A tired smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
Without another word, she looks towards Ethan.
The doctor in her is awake before the rest of her is.
She carefully checks his bandages and rests a hand against his forehead.
Only after confirming he's alright do her shoulders finally relax.
I watch her for a moment.
Even exhausted, even terrified, she's still taking care of everyone else.
--
The sun creeps up slowly, bathing the woods in pale gold.
For the first time all night, my shoulders relax.
We made it.
Somehow, we actually made it.
The monsters are gone.
The footsteps have stopped.
The voices have disappeared with the darkness.
Slowly, we gather our supplies.
Nobody says much.
We're all exhausted.
Too tired to celebrate surviving.
Too tired to process what happened.
Boyd is the first one out of the RV.
A few moments later, the sound of an approaching engine echoes through the trees.
Everyone freezes.
Then relief washes over us.
A car.
Our ride back.
Kristi and I help steady Jim as he lifts Ethan into his arms.
The second my boots hit the ground, I tilt my face toward the sun.
Fresh air fills my lungs.
Real air.
Not stale RV air soaked in fear and adrenaline.
I close my eyes for a second.
Just one second.
I can't believe we made it through the night.
Together, we make our way back toward the road.
The car comes to a stop a few yards away.
The moment it does, Julie and Tabitha spot Jim and Ethan.
They're moving before the vehicle has fully stopped.
The reunion is immediate.
Messy.
Desperate.
The kind of embrace that comes from believing you might never see someone again.
I look away.
Not because it feels private.
Because it hurts.
To be loved like that.
To know someone would search for you.
Wait for you.
Miss you.
My thoughts drift briefly to home.
To my family.
I push them away before they can settle.
Across the road, Kristi is already moving.
"Kenny."
He reaches her in seconds.
For a moment, they simply stare at each other.
Neither speaking. Neither moving. Just confirming.
Alive.
Then Kenny pulls her into a hug.
A real hug.
Tight.
Relieved.
The kind people only give when they've spent an entire night imagining the worst.
Kristi wraps her arms around him immediately.
I look away.
Then immediately get annoyed with myself for doing it.
People hug. Friends hug. People who think they might never see each other again definitely hug.
Completely normal.
Perfectly reasonable.
My stomach disagreed.
When they finally pull apart, Kenny's hands linger briefly on her shoulders.
"You okay?"
Kristi nods.
"I'm okay."
"You sure?"
A tired smile tugs at her lips.
"Kenny."
The way she says his name makes him finally exhale.
Some of the tension leaves his face.
The knot in my stomach tightens anyway.
I immediately blame sleep deprivation.
It feels safer.
Then Kenny's gaze lifts.
Past Kristi.
Toward me.
For a second, he just stares.
Like he's making sure I'm actually standing there too.
Then he starts walking over.
My heart immediately does something deeply annoying.
"You okay?"
I blink.
"What?"
"You okay?"
The concern in his voice catches me off guard.
Like he'd been carrying the question around all night.
I shrug.
"I only spent the night trapped in an overturned RV surrounded by nightmare creatures."
A laugh escapes him.
Small.
Tired.
But real.
"Fair."
"I think I handled it with grace."
"That's not the word I'd use."
I place a hand dramatically against my chest.
"Wow."
His smile widens slightly.
Only slightly.
Then it fades.
"You're alive though."
The words settle between us.
Simple.
Honest.
And somehow far more dangerous than they should be.
Because he sounds relieved.
Not generally relieved.
Not relieved everyone survived.
Relieved that I survived.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
The morning air suddenly feels very still.
Then Kenny reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.
Quick.
Gentle.
Gone almost immediately.
"I'm glad you're okay."
My chest tightens.
Stupidly.
Embarrassingly.
Much harder than it should be.
Before I can think of a single thing to say back, Boyd's voice cuts through the morning.
"Kenny."
Boyd stands a few yards away, his expression unreadable.
For a second, nobody moves.
Then he gestures toward the road.
"We need to get back."
The drive into town is quieter than I expected.
No one talks.
The exhaustion from the night settles over all of us like a heavy blanket.
For the first time since sunrise, I let myself believe the worst was over.
I should know better by now.
A few minutes later, we pull up outside the clinic.
Immediately, something feels wrong.
The front door hangs partially open.
My stomach drops.
Beside me, Kenny goes rigid.
Father Khatri notices it too.
Before the vehicle has fully stopped, Kenny is already moving.
"Kenny!" Kristi calls.
He doesn't listen.
He jumps out and rushes toward the building.
Kristi and I are right behind him.
The closer we get, the worse the feeling becomes.
Something is wrong.
Something is very, very wrong.
The clinic is eerily silent.
No voices. No movement. Nothing.
Then we see her.
The nurse lies crumpled on the floor.
For a moment, I can't process what I'm looking at.
Blood stains the ground around her.
A strangled gasp escapes me.
The monsters.
Somehow they got in.
My gaze immediately snaps toward Kenny.
He has gone completely still.
Father Khatri catches up beside him and gently places a hand on his shoulder.
"Kenny," he says softly.
Kenny doesn't respond.
The priest's voice grows quieter.
"Let me go first."
Silence.
"It doesn't have to be you."
Kenny's jaw tightens.
Then he pulls away.
No hesitation. No discussion. Just movement.
Slowly, he follows the trail of blood deeper into the basement.
The rest of us follow.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears.
Every step feels heavier than the last.
Then Kenny reaches the doorway.
And stops.
The room beyond is silent.
For a moment, nobody moves.
Nobody breathes.
Then I see it.
My stomach twists violently.
Mr. Liu is lying on the floor.
The monsters didn't simply kill him.
They destroyed him.
The room looks like something from a nightmare.
Something no son should ever have to see.
Kenny grips the doorframe so hard his knuckles turn white.
For one horrible second, he just stares.
Like his mind is refusing to understand what his eyes are seeing.
Then his legs give out.
He drops to his knees.
A broken sound escapes him.
Not a scream.
Not a cry.
Something deeper.
The sound of a heart shattering.
"Dad..."
His voice cracks completely.
He crawls forward.
Slowly.
Like he's afraid that getting closer will somehow make it more real.
"No."
The word comes out barely above a whisper.
"No, no, no..."
His hands shake as he reaches for his father.
As if he can still help him.
As if there's still something left to do.
He gathers him into his arms.
The sob that follows tears through the room.
Raw.
Uncontrolled.
The kind of grief that leaves no room for pride or dignity.
I feel my own eyes burning.
I grab Father Khatri's arm next to me. Something to steady me. Ground me in reality.
Nobody says anything.
What could anyone possibly say?
Father Khatri lowers his head.
Kristi wipes at her eyes.
And Kenny-
Kenny just holds his father.
Rocking slightly.
Repeating the same word over and over again.
"Dad."
As though saying it enough times might bring him back.
As though refusing to let go could somehow change what happened.
But this place doesn't care about love.
It doesn't care how badly something hurts.
The monsters don't just kill people.
They leave the rest of us behind to suffer.
To remember.
To carry it.
They live to torture us.
Standing there, listening to Kenny break apart in front of me-
I know this is only the beginning.
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hi guys!!! this took awhile for me to write. i hope its okay for you guys :))) let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!
-nora
xoxo
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@noone1233nobody