The crucifix hung above the doorway once more, its metal surface catching what little light filtered into the room. Madison's eyes kept returning to it, as if expecting the figure to writhe against its tiny cross. Her family picture—the one Faith had broken—sat on the dresser, painstakingly pieced back together with clear tape that caught the light in spidery patterns. The fracture lines mapped the territories of their broken home.
Madison slammed onto her bed with enough force to make the springs protest. She exhaled—a long, ragged sound that seemed to carry more weight than air—then buried her face in her pillow and screamed. The fabric muffled the sound, but couldn't contain the raw emotion that pulsed from her throat like something living.
A shadow passed beneath her door, obstructing the thin strip of light that bled through the gap. The door creaked, inching open as if pushed by invisible fingers.
"Can't you just leave me alone!?" Madison's voice cracked with desperation. She hurled a pillow at the door, striking it with a soft thud. The door abruptly halted its progression.
The shadow receded. Faith's footsteps faded down the hallway, each one a dull punctuation mark to Madison's racing thoughts.
When silence returned, Madison rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, counting the small cracks in the plaster. One, two, three... She lost track somewhere in the twenties. With a frustrated sigh, she snatched her cell phone from beneath the mattress corner. The screen glowed to life beneath her fingertips, illuminating her face from below in sickly blue light.
She tapped at the browser icon and navigated to a travel discount page. Her eyes skimmed over cheap flight options, destinations that existed in a parallel universe where she had control over her own life. Each pixelated image of faraway places felt like a taunt.
As she scrolled, her social media profile materialized on the screen. An advertisement banner cut across the bottom:
“IS YOUR LIFE UNORTHODOX? CLICK HERE AND START LIVE STREAMING NOW!”
Madison's finger hovered over the link, her nail catching the light like a small blade. Something twisted in her chest—a mixture of defiance and something darker. Her finger descended decisively.
"I'll show you fair," she whispered, the words barely disturbing the air.
The hallway stretched before Madison like the throat of something ancient. Soft candlelight flickered from the living room, casting long, restless shadows that danced across the walls. Madison gripped her cell phone tightly, its camera set to record video, pointing it out in front of herself like a shield or a weapon. She couldn't decide which.
Her socks whispered against the hardwood as she advanced toward the end of the corridor. From beyond, Faith's voice drifted—low and rhythmic, speaking words Madison couldn't understand.
"Ede pelute kondo nadode—"
Madison hesitated at the corridor's end, one hand braced against the wall. The unfamiliar syllables slid past her ears like oil, leaving a residue of unease.
The living room had transformed. Candles were scattered throughout the space, their flames dancing in an unseen draft. The furniture loomed in the half-light, shapes made strange by shadow. A small blanket lay spread on the floor, an island in the darkness.
Faith knelt on the blanket, her eyes closed tight, her body swaying back and forth in a rhythm that seemed to come from somewhere outside herself. Her hands were clasped before her, then raised skyward in supplication. The candlelight made her face a mask of shifting light and shadow.
"—igla tepete compto pele—"
Madison glanced down at her cell phone screen. The word "LIVE" pulsed in the upper left corner, a tiny red heartbeat. Viewers were joining, their numbers ticking upward. Madison felt a surge of vindication mingled with something like fear.
"—igme odkondo nefulu kelala—"
She peered cautiously around the corner, making sure to keep herself mostly hidden.
Faith continued her strange incantation, unaware or uncaring of Madison's presence. From this angle, with the candlelight behind her, Faith's shadow stretched enormous across the floor, a dark giant genuflecting before unseen powers.
"—nene pokonto ce folodelu—“
The phone trembled in Madison's hand. She pressed her back against the wall, steadying herself and the device. The images being transmitted to unknown viewers were jerky but clear enough. Clear enough to show Faith's obsession, her madness. Clear enough to prove Madison's point.
"—impete la la feme olele—"
Madison inched further into the room, drawn by morbid fascination. What was Faith saying? Who was she speaking to? The unfamiliar language flowed from Faith's lips with practiced ease, as if these sounds lived in her mouth, waiting for darkness to emerge.
"—igdepekindo raogjapate relepo—"
Without warning, Faith's eyes snapped open. Madison froze, her breath caught in her throat like a stone. Faith's eyes reflected the candlelight in twin gleams that seemed to contain no pupil, no iris—just amber fire.
Faith's head turned sharply toward the hallway, her movements stiff and unnatural. Madison pressed herself flat against the wall, out of sight, heart hammering against her ribs. When she dared to peek again, Faith was staring directly at the empty space where Madison had stood.
Madison withdrew, sliding back down the hallway, her phone clutched to her chest. The "LIVE" indicator continued to pulse, sending this moment out into the world, into the hands of strangers who could not feel the chill that now traced Madison's spine with icy fingers.
The bathroom door stood slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of hallway darkness to slice into the room. Madison turned on the sink faucet—a distraction, a cover, white noise to mask whatever sounds might escape her lips. She walked to the toilet and sat down heavily on the closed lid. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated in the harsh bathroom light, as she processed what she had just witnessed.
What language had Faith been speaking? It wasn't Latin—Madison had heard enough religious films to recognize Latin, even poorly pronounced. This was something else. Something older.
The bedroom door creaked open from across the hall, the sound slicing through the running water.
"Madison, are you still awake?" Faith's voice carried a forced casualness that made Madison's skin prickle.
Her hands moved instinctively, splashing water into the sink, creating the illusion of normalcy. Little droplets caught the light as they scattered across the porcelain.
"It's past your bedtime," Faith called, her voice closer now.
Madison swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Just had to pee." The lie tasted metallic on her tongue.
"Are you in the bathroom?" Faith asked, as if she couldn't hear the running water, as if she couldn't see the light spilling beneath the door.
"No, I'm peeing in my bed!" Madison shot back, the sarcasm automatic, a defense mechanism.
A pause stretched between them—one beat too long, charged with something unspoken.
"Goodnight, Madison," Faith finally said, her voice unnaturally even.
Madison held her breath, listening to Faith's retreating footsteps. She cautiously peered through the partially open door just in time to see the bedroom door push almost closed—but not quite. It remained slightly open, a permanent crack of surveillance.
When she was certain Faith had gone, Madison retrieved her cell phone from her pocket with trembling fingers. She dialed the number she knew by heart, keeping her voice low, almost a whisper. “I’m back.”
"Yo," Erik answered on the second ring.
"You seen it yet?" Madison asked, without preamble.
The phone pressed against her ear, she could hear faint bubbling sounds in the background of Erik's call. In her mind's eye, she could see his bedroom—a row of fish tanks lining the wall, the soft hum of a filter, and the lazy rise and pop of bubbles breaking the surface. Maybe a hookah in the corner, the quiet gurgle of water with each slow inhale. She didn’t ask for details. Some things were safer not to know.
"Of course, I saw it." Erik's voice carried a hint of pride, as if her broadcast had been his idea. "Girl, I get notifications as soon as ya upload. Seems like you're becomin' quite the sensation, Ms. Popular."
Madison's lips curled into a small, private smile. "I know. Low key, I'm getting a steady stream of followers." The validation felt good—strangers on the internet bearing witness to the strangeness of her life, confirming that what was happening wasn't normal, wasn't right.
"Ain't ya scared she'll find it?" Erik asked.
Madison glanced down at her leg, peeling back the edge of the bandaid to examine the scab beneath. It was healing, forming a dark crust over whatever wound had been there before.
She pressed lightly on its edge, feeling the dull throb of pain like a reminder she was still alive, still real.
"Not really," she said, though this wasn't entirely true. "At this point, I'm more scared about her mental state. She's been acting weird."
Weird didn't begin to cover it. There had been something in Faith's movements during that ritual—something hypnotic in the way her body swayed, as if guided by invisible strings.
"So, come here," Erik said, his voice dropping lower. "I'll keep ya safe."
Madison closed her eyes briefly. The thought was tempting—escape, freedom. But the reality was more complicated than Erik could understand.
"Yeah, right," she said, forcing lightness into her tone. "You know I've never snuck out."
Madison placed a hand against the cool mirror, covering her reflection. In the fogged edges around her fingers, she could almost see another face looking back—not quite her own.
Chapter 6