part 6 the Possession

Chapter 6: The Possession

Sarah had barely begun to come to terms with the truth of the house when things took a darker turn. The shadows were no longer just whispers in the corner of her mind; they had begun to reach out to her, to her family, seeking a way to make their presence known in more tangible ways. It wasn't just the unsettling creaks of the house anymore. It was something worse. Much worse.

Mark had always been her rock, the steady foundation in the storm of her thoughts. But over the past few days, something had shifted in him. At first, it was subtle—his usual warmth had faded. He became quieter, more withdrawn, spending long hours in his study, staring at the walls as if listening to something she couldn't hear. His smiles no longer reached his eyes. The tension in the house seemed to tighten, as if it were closing in on them.

One evening, Sarah walked into the living room to find Mark sitting by the fireplace. It was late, and the children were already asleep. The fire crackled softly, but Mark didn't seem to notice the warmth. He sat there, staring into the flames, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"Mark?" Sarah's voice was gentle, but there was an edge of concern in it.

He didn't answer immediately. His head was tilted slightly, as though listening to something just beyond her reach. Finally, he turned to her, his eyes empty and glassy.

"Sarah…" he whispered, but it wasn't his voice. The tone was lower, colder. Almost… unnatural.

Sarah took a step back, a chill creeping up her spine. "Mark, what's going on? What's happening to you?"

He stood up slowly, his movements stiff, as if his body were no longer entirely his own. "It's not me," he murmured, as if in a trance. "It's here. It's always been here. It's waiting…"

Fear gripped Sarah's heart. She knew what this was. She had heard stories—read about it in her search for answers. This wasn't just the house speaking to him. This was possession. The spirits, the shadows—they weren't just whispering anymore. They were taking hold.

Before Sarah could react, Mark's eyes went black, his pupils swallowed by darkness. His body jerked violently, as though something inside him was fighting for control. She screamed his name, but the figure in front of her was no longer Mark. It was something else—something ancient, something evil.

"You shouldn't have come here," the voice said, a deep, gravelly tone that was not his own. "You belong to us now."

Sarah stumbled backward, her mind racing for a plan. The house had taken hold of him, just as it had tried to take hold of her. She remembered the book she had found in the attic, the part about the pact, the one where it said that a living soul would have to replace the one who had made the bargain. And now, it seemed that Mark was the one being claimed.

"Mark!" she cried, reaching for him, her hands shaking. "Fight it! You have to fight it!"

For a moment, she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. It was faint, but it was enough. A part of him was still there, trapped inside the possession. Sarah grabbed his hand desperately, willing him to hear her, to come back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't know… I didn't know…"

"Mark, we can get out of here! We can leave!" She pulled him toward the door, but the force inside him fought back, slamming her against the wall with terrifying strength. The darkness in his eyes flared again, and the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to grow, twisting and writhing like living things.

"You cannot escape," the voice hissed. "You are ours now, Sarah. The house calls to you. You belong to us, and we will never let you go."

The words were like a slap to her face, cold and sharp. The presence was so overwhelming, so powerful, that she could hardly breathe. But Sarah wasn't ready to give up. She had to fight. She had to save Mark and protect her children.

"Leave him!" she screamed, but the shadows only seemed to grow stronger, wrapping around her like a dark cloud.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet trembled, and the walls seemed to close in, as if the house itself were shaking with fury. A low, rumbling growl filled the air, vibrating through her chest. And then, just as quickly as it had started, the storm of shadows stilled.

Mark collapsed to the floor, his eyes blinking as if waking from a deep sleep. His gaze was clearer now, though his face was pale and drawn, as if the energy had been drained from him. He looked up at Sarah, his voice hoarse and filled with confusion.

"Sarah… what happened?" His words were slow, and he looked around as if he had no memory of the last few moments.

The house was quiet again, but Sarah knew better. The presence, the possession, was still there, lingering in the walls, waiting for its next opportunity. Mark was free—for now—but Sarah wasn't sure for how long. She could feel the pull, the oppressive weight of the house pressing down on them, as if it were biding its time, waiting for the next crack in their defenses.

"I… I think we need to leave," Sarah said, her voice shaking. She helped Mark to his feet, and together they stumbled out of the living room, heading toward the door. The house had already taken so much from them, and now it was clawing at them again.

But as Sarah stepped outside, she paused, her eyes drawn to the attic window high above. It was dark, the curtains drawn tightly, but she could have sworn she saw something—someone—watching her from behind the glass. A figure, tall and thin, with glowing eyes.

The house was alive with power, and it wasn't finished with them yet.

It was waiting. It was always waiting.

And this time, it wasn't just after Sarah. It was after everything she loved.

The shadows had claimed Mark. The possession had begun.

And Sarah knew that it wouldn't stop until it had her too.