Chapter 10
The attic door creaked open wider, the sound slicing through the thick silence of the hallway. The pale hand, no more than a blur of skin, reached further out. Olivia froze, her heartbeat deafening in her chest, thudding against her ribs as if trying to break free.
"Lila?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with a fear she couldn't suppress. She reached out, but something in her gut told her to stop—to pull back before it was too late.
But she couldn't. She couldn't leave her sister—whatever she had become—like this. Not now.
The hand pulled back into the darkness, and Olivia, without thinking, followed. Her feet moved on their own, drawn to the attic, where shadows seemed to breathe and shift, alive with something she couldn't yet understand.
Behind her, she could hear Henry's sharp breath, the fear in his chest a tangible thing, and James's footsteps hesitant, as though he, too, understood the gravity of what they were about to face. But neither of them spoke.
The atmosphere in the house had changed over the past few days, growing colder, more suffocating, as if the house itself was closing in on them. Olivia felt it now—something in the walls, in the floors, in the air itself, like an invisible pressure pressing down on her, suffocating her breath. It felt like the house was holding its own breath, waiting for them to slip up.
The attic stairs creaked underfoot as Olivia ascended, the heavy weight of dread settling into the pit of her stomach. Every step felt like a decision, like a path leading them into an inescapable maze.
As they reached the top, the air turned colder still. A thin layer of frost had formed on the floorboards, the remnants of some long-forgotten winter that had never ended.
Olivia's eyes scanned the dimly lit attic. The faint light from the cracked window barely illuminated the space, casting long, jagged shadows on the floor. The attic seemed to stretch on endlessly, rows of old furniture and boxes piling high, like forgotten memories gathering dust. The air smelled of old wood, of things long buried and abandoned.
And then she saw her.
Lila—or what was left of her.
The figure stood near the far corner of the attic, her back to them. She was hunched over, almost fetal, as if she were protecting herself from something. Her hair hung in disarray around her face, tangled and matted, as though she hadn't seen a comb in years. But it wasn't her appearance that made Olivia's blood run cold—it was the way she stood, unmoving, unnaturally still, as though she were listening, waiting.
Then, just as suddenly, Lila turned, and Olivia's heart lurched in her chest.
Her sister's eyes were not eyes at all. They were empty, hollow, black as the void. There was no light in them. No soul.
"Lila?" Olivia's voice was a desperate whisper now, but Lila did not respond. The thing that wore her sister's face took a slow step forward, and that was when Olivia saw it—the jagged lines of dark veins crisscrossing Lila's pale skin, as though the blood inside her had been poisoned, twisted.
A strange sound filled the air, a low hum that seemed to vibrate from the very walls. Olivia felt it in her bones, deep inside her chest. The house was alive. It was alive.
Henry reached out to grab Olivia's arm, his grip tight, trying to pull her back. "Olivia, we need to get out of here. It's not Lila. It's—"
Before he could finish, the attic door slammed shut behind them with a deafening crash.
Olivia spun around, panic rising in her throat. The air turned thick, like something was suffocating her, trying to choke her from the inside out. Her head swam, her vision blurring at the edges as the temperature dropped rapidly, frost creeping up the walls, crawling across the floor.
James let out a strangled shout. "The door—get it open! NOW!"
But the door wouldn't budge.
Lila—or whatever had taken her place—took another slow step forward. Her mouth opened wide, and the sound that came out was not human. It was a deep, guttural growl, something between a scream and a roar, the sound of a creature trapped between two worlds.
Olivia's knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor, her hands shaking violently. She could feel the pull of the house, feel it pulling her toward the thing that had once been her sister. Her breath came in shallow gasps, but she couldn't breathe.
Lila's lips curled into a smile—a cruel, twisted thing—and she spoke, though her voice was a distorted version of the sister Olivia remembered. "You never should have come back. You never should have come back…"
The words echoed through Olivia's mind, sending a cold shiver down her spine.
Olivia reached for her sister, desperation flooding her chest. "Lila, please! I know you're in there! Please, don't—"
But the thing that wore her sister's face only laughed, a sharp, hollow sound that sent ice through Olivia's veins. The laughter was all wrong. It was as if the house itself were laughing, mocking her for even thinking she could save her sister.
"You can't save me." The voice was not Lila's anymore. It was deeper, more sinister, like the voice of something ancient. Something evil.
Henry reached for the door handle, pulling at it with all his strength. "Olivia! We need to get out! NOW!"
But Olivia didn't move. She couldn't. Not when the thing in front of her had Lila's face. Not when she could feel the faintest flicker of the girl she used to know in those empty eyes.
"We have to end this," she whispered to herself, not even sure if she was saying it aloud. "We have to destroy it."
The creature—Lila's body, but not Lila—took another step forward, her movements jerky, unnatural. "End it? Oh, my sweet sister, it's already ended." She tilted her head at an odd angle, a sickly smile stretching across her face. "The house has claimed us all."