The dripping letters glistened in Ryder's flashlight beam, thick and black like oil. The smell hit them next metallic, sharp and definitely wrong.
"Tim?" Serena whispered again, voice cracking. No answer. Just the wind clawing at the nailed shutters.
Pierce backed up, hands shaking. "We need to get out. Now." He grabbed his car keys in an instant
"Phones are gone," Talia said, her voice tight. "Windows nailed shut. Doors-" She ran to the front door and yanked. It didn't budge. The lock wasn't just engaged; the wood felt fused, like part of the frame.
"Guys…" Ryder's voice was barely audible. He was staring at the wall. Another line had appeared beneath the first, letters forming slowly as if written by an invisible hand:
PLAYER TWO: READY OR NOT…
The sound came again...soft footsteps above them. Then laughter. Childlike. Echoing down the staircase.
Talia clutched Serena's arm. "What does that mean? Who's Player Two?"
The lights flickered back on for a split second, just long enough for them to see something at the end of the hallway. A figure. Small. Pale. Grinning.
Then darkness swallowed everything again.
"Basement," Pierce hissed. "There's gotta be a way out through the basement."
"No," Serena said, her voice trembling. "The board said hide and seek. If we run—"
The laughter cut her off. Closer now. Almost behind them.
"Hide," Talia whispered. "We have to hide."
As if on cue, the shutters rattled violently, and every door in the hallway slammed shut at once. The sound was deafening. When it stopped, the house was silent again—except for the voice, drifting through the dark:
"Five… six… seven…"(67 hehehe)
It was counting.
Serena's breath hitched. Ryder stepped closer, his shoulder brushing hers. "You like you're about to shit your pants...you okay?," he murmured, low enough that only she heard. His hand found hers in the dark....warm, steady, grounding her for a heartbeat in the chaos.
She squeezed back before she could think. "Yea actually I think I might ," she whispered.
Ryder laughed gently, forcing a crooked grin she couldn't see but could hear in his voice. For a second, the fear loosened its grip—just a little.
Then the voice sang out again, sweet and sharp:
"Eight… nine…"
Tango was shaking so badly he stumbled backward, knocking over a lamp. It crashed to the floor and shattered, the sound exploding through the silence like a gunshot. For a heartbeat, the entire house seemed to hold its breath.
Serena bolted toward the nearest doorway, desperate for cover. Her foot slid on something slick, dust or maybe water, and she went down hard. Pain flared white-hot as her palm struck broken glass. She hissed, biting back a scream, and whispered through clenched teeth:
"Shit…"
Blood oozed from the deep gash, warm and thick, dripping onto the floorboards. Ryder and Aria were there in an instant, crouching beside her. His hand hovered over hers, trying to help but honestly making it worse.
"Serena…" Ryder's voice was low, urgent. "You're bleeding."
"No shit sherlock," she muttered, trying to push herself up. Her breath hitched when his arm slid around her, steadying her. For a second, the chaos faded just the heat of his grip and the way he held her like she mattered.
"OH GOD SERENA DONT DIE ON US I SWEAR IF WE DIE I NEED SOMEONE TO BLAME," she whisper shouted, her eyes staring toward the hallway where the voice sang out again:
"nine… ten…"