Faith's bedroom was a study in restraint. A twin bed with a plain quilt. A dresser that held only essentials. The room's sole indulgence was a television, its screen flickering blue light across the walls. A bedside lamp cast a soft glow, illuminating a framed portrait of Faith and Madison on the nightstand—a snapshot from years ago, when smiles came more naturally to both of them.On the floor, a reptile tank sat like a contained universe, glass walls separating its inhabitant from the wider world.
Faith lay in bed, her eyes fixed on the television screen but not seeing the images that played across it. The blue light washed over her face in waves, making her skin appear bloodless and otherworldly. Behind her, a light shadow loomed in the doorway—a silhouette with no source—creating the illusion of an unseen presence within the room - but no one else was there.
She reached for the remote, but her hand froze midway, suspended in the air. Something prickled at the back of her neck, a sensation of being watched. Slowly, Faith turned toward the door. The shadow, if it had ever been there, was gone—vanished without a trace.
Faith's hand moved to the bedside lamp, fingertips brushing the switch, but she couldn't bring herself to extinguish the light. Instead, she picked up the framed photograph, her thumb tracing the edge of Madison's face behind the glass. The girl in the picture was smiling, eyes bright with a joy that had long since vanished.
Outside, the night pressed against the house windows like something alive, hungry for entry. The yard beyond Madison's bedroom window lay dim and eerie, a landscape of twisted shadows and whispered movement.
The window slid open with a sound like an exhaled breath. From inside the room, a persistent snore could be heard—regular, convincing. Madison, dressed in black from head to toe, maneuvered her body through the narrow opening with practiced grace. Her movements were fluid, suggesting this wasn't improvisation but a plan long considered, rehearsed in her mind during sleepless nights.
She dropped to the ground with barely a sound, her feet finding purchase in the soft earth. Shrouded in shadow, she moved around the perimeter of the house, keeping close to the walls where the darkness was deepest.
A window ahead leaked light into the sideyard—Faith's room.
Madison rose onto her tiptoes and peered inside, her breath fogging the glass momentarily before dissipating.
Faith lay in bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep.
Madison continued her journey toward the front of the house, each step measured, deliberate.
At the front of the house, Madison approached Faith's car and crouched behind it, using the vehicle as cover. From her pocket, she retrieved a set of keys, the metal cold against her palm. She pressed the fob button.
Beep, beep.
The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night. Madison's eyes darted to the house, searching for signs of movement or light. Nothing. Only the silent, watching windows. She reached for the car door handle, her movements slow, careful. The door swung open, and the interior lights flared on, briefly illuminating her face—a pale oval of determination and fear.
She was about to slide into the driver's seat when a sound cut through the night.
Click clack.
Then—
BOOM!
A blast illuminated the porch, revealing Faith standing there, a shotgun gripped in her hands. The woman's face was a mask of focused rage as she cocked the weapon again.
Click clack.
Madison shut the car door, darkness swallowing her once more. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat a desperate plea for survival.
Faith scanned the area, her silhouette rigid against the porch light. The dim illumination made it difficult for her to discern details beyond the immediate pool of light.
"Whoever you are, you picked the wrong house!" Faith's voice carried across the yard, steely with conviction.
Madison cautiously stepped toward the trunk of the car, seeking better cover. Dirt crunched beneath her shoes.
BOOM! Click clack.
Fear coursed through Madison's veins like ice water. She crouched lower, stealing a glimpse through the car window. Faith stood on the porch, the shotgun pointed outward, sweeping across the darkness before her. The woman's posture spoke of readiness, of a willingness to do whatever she deemed necessary.
Madison dropped to her belly, pressing herself against the cold ground. Tears spilled from her eyes, hot trails of terror on her cheeks. Her gaze fell on something beneath the car—a short, thick stick. Her fingers closed around it, the bark rough against her skin.
"Better run back to the darkness, before I bring you into the light!" Faith called out. "May God have mercy on your soul."
Madison hurled the stick to her left with all her strength, then scrambled to her right, away from the distraction. The stick landed with a muffled thud, its sound echoing faintly in the night.
Faith fired twice into the darkness, the shots reverberating through the stillness. Then, silence as she listened, head cocked to one side.
Footsteps thudded through the dirt, echoing from the darkness to her left.
Faith's head snapped toward the sound. She spotted a silhouette moving through the darkness, a fleeting shadow in the night. She aligned the shotgun with her target and fired two more shots, the blasts momentarily converting night to day.
A distant thump followed.
Faith advanced cautiously toward an elongated figure lying in the darkness on the ground. As she approached, the form took shape—a wolf, lifeless, a copious amount of frothy saliva surrounding its fangs and mouth. Faith stared down at the creature, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
Chapter 7