Chapter 5: The Sacrifice

Elliot woke to a cold, suffocating darkness. His body felt like lead, heavy and immovable, as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. The rhythmic tap, tap, tap echoed in his mind, relentless and inescapable, reverberating through his skull like a hammer on bone. Panic surged in his chest, but his limbs refused to move. He was trapped—just like Henry.

In the oppressive silence of the room, Elliot realized he wasn't alone. He could feel it—the presence that had taken over Henry's body. It lingered in the air, watching him, waiting. His breath came in shallow gasps as he struggled to regain control, his mind racing for answers.

Slowly, painfully, Elliot forced his eyes open. The room around him was the same sterile ICU, but it felt different—distorted, as if reality itself had twisted in some subtle, horrifying way. Shadows clung to the corners, shifting out of sight, and the air felt thick, choked with something unseen. The beeping of the machines had slowed, each pulse drawn out like the last breaths of a dying man.

Henry lay motionless in the bed beside him, his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling with a vacant, dead gaze. His body was still—too still—like a mannequin propped up on display. But Elliot knew the truth. The thing inside Henry wasn't finished. It was waiting.

The tapping started again, soft and deliberate, echoing from Henry's fingertips. The sound clawed at Elliot's mind, pulling him deeper into its thrall. It wanted him.

"Elliot..." The voice was faint, barely a whisper, but it cut through the tapping like a blade. It wasn't Henry's voice. It was the entity's.

Elliot's throat tightened. His muscles screamed for movement, but the invisible force holding him down wouldn't relent. His heart pounded in his chest, cold sweat dripping down his forehead as the truth settled over him like a shroud: This was what the entity had wanted all along.

It had never been about Henry.

It was about him.

The tapping grew louder, more erratic, the rhythm turning urgent, demanding. The pressure in the room built, and Elliot's breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to make sense of the voice.

"You opened the door," the voice hissed, low and venomous. "You invited me in. Now, give yourself to me, and I will set him free."

Elliot's pulse quickened, his mind spinning. Was it true? Could he save Henry if he gave himself to this thing? He had come too far, seen too much to turn back now. He couldn't leave Henry trapped in this waking nightmare, a prisoner in his own body.

"I... I can help you," Elliot croaked, his voice weak and trembling. "I'll... give you what you want, but let Henry go."

The tapping stopped abruptly. Silence suffocated the room, and the air seemed to freeze. For a moment, nothing happened. Elliot's heart thudded in his chest as he waited, fear gripping him from all sides.

Then, Henry's body twitched. His head turned stiffly, the motion unnatural, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. His wide, vacant eyes rolled to meet Elliot's, but there was no recognition in them. Just emptiness. Whatever was staring back at him wasn't human.

"Give yourself to me," the voice commanded, harsh and cold. "And he will be free."

Elliot swallowed, his mouth dry. He knew what he had to do, but every fiber of his being recoiled from the decision. The entity's darkness pressed against him, wrapping around his soul like a noose. It was waiting.

But what choice did he have? If he refused, Henry would remain trapped, his mind imprisoned in that unresponsive body. And Elliot couldn't live with that. He couldn't lose him.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Elliot closed his eyes and whispered, "Take me."

The words left his lips, and the room seemed to inhale with him. A rush of cold air swirled around him, pulling at his skin, his thoughts, his very essence. The pressure was unbearable, crushing him from all sides. It felt like he was being torn apart. His body and soul were being ripped asunder by the force that had been waiting, lurking in the shadows.

The tapping began again, but it wasn't Henry's fingers this time. It was Elliot's. His hands moved involuntarily, twitching with the same unnatural jerks that had controlled Henry.

And then the voice returned, louder now, filling the room with its icy command: "Give yourself fully, Elliot. Let go."

Elliot could feel it—the entity creeping deeper into him, invading his mind, his memories, his very being. It pressed into the cracks of his psyche, searching for a foothold. The darkness flooded him, and he felt himself slipping away, drowning in it, as though he were sinking into a bottomless pit.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced—Henry's face, smiling, alive, not the hollow shell lying before him now. It was the Henry Elliot had known, the man who had consumed his thoughts, his rival, his obsession. The man he had wanted so desperately to save.

But there was no saving Henry now. The entity had him. And now, it had Elliot, too.

The darkness closed in, tightening its grip on his mind. His vision blurred, the room tilting as the voice grew louder, more insistent. It was devouring him, piece by piece, until nothing would be left.

And then, through the haze of terror, a final thought clawed its way into his mind: Was this what Henry had felt? Was this the hell Henry had been trapped in, alone, for all these weeks?

Elliot's resolve hardened. If he had to suffer this fate, so be it. But Henry would be free.

With the last of his strength, Elliot opened his eyes and whispered, "Let him go."

The room exploded in a blinding flash of light, and for a moment, Elliot felt weightless, suspended in the void between life and death. The tapping ceased, and the entity's crushing presence lifted, leaving a cold, empty silence.

Henry's body twitched once more, then went still. His eyes fluttered closed, and for the first time in weeks, his face relaxed, peaceful. The machines beeped softly, their rhythm steady and calm. Henry was free.

But Elliot wasn't.

His body felt impossibly heavy, as though the weight of the world had collapsed upon him. His limbs refused to move, and his vision darkened as the tapping resumed—faint, but unmistakable—coming from his own hands. The sound echoed in his mind, pulling him deeper into the abyss.

Tap... tap... tap.