The Unraveling

Daniel's pov--

The house felt different today. It wasn't just the silence or the strange heaviness in the air; it was something more. Something that tugged at the edge of my mind, begging to be acknowledged, but I pushed it down. Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe I was just exhausted from the sleepless nights and the endless whispering in my head.

I was used to the quiet, but today it was suffocating. There were no footsteps in the hall, no sounds of William moving around, no clattering of dishes from the kitchen. It was like the house itself had stopped breathing.

I glanced down the hallway toward his room. The door was slightly cracked open, and I could see a sliver of light spilling from inside. But William wasn't there. I hadn't seen him all morning. I had assumed he was just off doing whatever he did now—wandering around the house in a daze, staring at nothing, lost in his own world.

But something was wrong.

The air was thick, like something had changed. I felt a pressure in my chest, as though the house was alive, and it was watching me.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I had to focus. There were things I needed to do, things I couldn't ignore anymore.

I walked toward the kitchen, glancing at the floorboards with each step, the creaking sound echoing louder than usual. The unease in my gut deepened as I reached the counter, where a pile of papers lay. I had been ignoring them for days, but now, with everything feeling so off, I needed to see what they said. It wasn't just my history project anymore. I had to understand what had been happening to William.

As I picked up the papers, something caught my eye—a scrap of old newspaper, faded and torn. My fingers hesitated as I read the headline:

"Local Family Disappears Mysteriously, No Signs of Foul Play"

I blinked. The article was about our family—my family—about my dad's disappearance when I was just a kid. I had never been told the full story, and every time I asked, I was shut down.

I quickly skimmed through the article, my heart pounding as I came across a section that sent chills down my spine:

"Investigators found strange symbols carved into the walls of the family home, remnants of ancient rituals believed to summon spirits. Neighbors report strange sounds and sightings from the house days before the family's sudden disappearance."

The words blurred as I reread them. My dad... was involved in something. Something dark.

I dropped the paper and stumbled back, my breath catching in my throat. The whispers in my head seemed to grow louder, like they were coming from the walls themselves, crawling under my skin.

"Daniel."

The voice was soft but unmistakable. It was William.

I whipped around, heart leaping into my throat, but he wasn't standing behind me. Instead, he was at the door, his back to me. His body was motionless, as though he was waiting for something, or someone.

"Will?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn't respond.

I walked toward him, my steps tentative, like walking through a nightmare that I couldn't escape. When I was close enough, I tapped his shoulder, but he didn't flinch. His skin felt cold beneath my fingers.

"Are you okay?" I asked again, though I knew the answer.

He slowly turned to face me, his eyes wide, unblinking. His pupils were dilated, almost black, and his face... it was different. There was something hollow in his gaze, something that wasn't there before.

"It's starting," he said in a low, almost detached voice.

"What do you mean?" I could barely get the words out, my throat tightening as I spoke.

"The house knows," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "The thing inside it... it's awake now. It's been waiting for you."

A chill ran through me at the mention of "the thing." I had always assumed that the strange things happening in the house were just my imagination. But hearing William speak about it like this—so certain, so afraid—it made the fear inside me grow.

I took a step back, my pulse racing. "What are you talking about? What thing?"

"The thing that took Dad." His voice cracked, and for the first time in months, I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Fear. Regret. Desperation.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I didn't know what to ask. How could I? William wasn't making sense. He wasn't himself anymore, and neither was I.

"You need to leave," William said suddenly, his voice hardening again. "Before it gets worse."

"But—"

"It's too late for me," he said, his voice distant now. "You can't stop it. It's already inside."

Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, his steps slow and deliberate, like he was drawn to something just out of sight. I stood frozen, my mind racing. What the hell was he talking about? What happened to him?

I had to know.

I hurried after him, but when I reached the hallway, I saw something that made my blood run cold.

The kitchen door, the one William had just walked through, was wide open. And standing in the doorway was a shadow—tall, dark, and shifting unnaturally, like it was made of smoke. It wasn't a person. It wasn't anything human.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. The shadow twisted, stretching toward me, and for a moment, I thought it would swallow me whole. But then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone, leaving only an eerie silence behind.

I blinked, trying to process what I had just seen. It was impossible. It couldn't have been real. But deep down, I knew it was. The thing—whatever it was—had been there. Watching me.

"Daniel."

I turned around to find William standing behind me, his expression blank, like he hadn't just seen the same thing I had.

"It's coming," he said, his voice flat. "And you're not ready."