Just when I'd felt the tiniest spark of relief, the nightmare reminded me it wasn't over. The creature I'd killed, stabbed through the chest with my own shaking hands, wasn't dead. It had come back. And now, there was another one.
Terror seized my chest like an iron clamp. My breaths went shallow; my heart thudded so hard it felt like it would burst free of my ribs. The cold metal of the flashlight in my hand offered no comfort, and the crowbar in my other hand felt feather-light against what lurked in the dark.
I swallowed, gritty sweat mingling with grime on my face. Every step I took echoed louder than it should, like the school itself was watching me. I inched forward, limbs trembling, eyes flicking to every shifting shadow.
Two of them. I whispered the thought, an invocation I wished I could unthink.
I tried not to replay the memory of driving iron through flesh, the wet splash of blood, the inhuman shriek, the way her body had crumpled. But it was burned into me. And now she walked again, as if death meant nothing here.
The hallway felt colder, like the air recoiled from me. A wet clicking sound echoed ahead—lips smacking, a mouth shaping words with no breath behind them. I froze. It wasn't footsteps. It wasn't breathing.
Po… po… po… po…
It sounded like it came from the walls themselves.
My grip on the flashlight tightened until my knuckles ached; the crowbar trembled in my other hand. A scream wanted to tear out of me—I pushed it down, swallowed it like bitter bile. I had to move. Had to keep going.
Then I heard a voice.
"Ethan?"
It wasn't a whisper, not quite, but it drifted down the corridor like smoke through cracks. A voice I knew. One that shouldn't be here.
"Mom?"
My throat seized. That couldn't be her.
But the voice came again, soft and trembling:
"Ethan... please help me."
But the moment I stepped into the room, the smile died on my face, because I realized it wasn't my mother at all. It was that damn thing… mimicking her voice.
And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.
My stomach flipped. Panic and revulsion hit me like a wave. I stumbled backward, falling over a fallen book, breath caught in my throat. The monster straightened, creaking limbs reaching out slowly.
But no. Not this time. Not after everything.
Clutching the crowbar with shaking hands, I forced myself up. My face twisted, joy drained away, replaced first by horror and then by a flash of searing rage.
Without hesitating, I dashed forward and swung the crowbar in a brutal arc, aimed straight at the creature's head. But it was faster. As the metal slammed toward it, a pale, elongated hand shot up and caught the blow on its wrist. Steel screeched against bone.
My gods, it blocked me. The force rattled through my arm, my knuckles skidding along its skin. Instinct kicked in and I jumped back, then realized I'd vaulted not just a step or two, but several meters across the room.
The monster stood firm, its empty eye sockets fixed on me. That mocking lullaby echo still rang in my ears. I pressed the crowbar tighter, ready for whatever came next.
I flung the flashlight straight into her face. The sudden burst of harsh light blinded her—sharp shadows splitting across the walls. Seizing the moment, I lunged forward in a single, furious leap.
With one powerful jump, I was right on top of her.
I swung the crowbar down hard, smashing into the side of her skull. She screamed—a guttural, chilling sound that rattled my bones. Without pausing, I hammered her arm, driving the crowbar into it again and again. This time, she didn't manage to block the blows.
I jumped back, gasping for breath but adrenaline fueling my limbs. My muscles felt stronger, faster, like something inside me had shifted.
Surely my body was improving. Was it because of that black smoke that had crept into me earlier? Whatever it was, it was giving me power. Power I desperately needed.
Here's that intense continuation with a punchy, cinematic flow and Ethan's grit shining through:
Suddenly, she screamed. This time a sound full of rage and fury and in a blink, she vanished from where she'd been and reappeared right in front of me.
Before I could react, her hand slammed into my stomach with brutal force. The air whooshed out of me as I flew backward, crashing hard against the wall. The flashlight and crowbar slipped from my grasp, clattering across the floor.
I coughed, bitter blood tasting sharp in my mouth. "D-damn... I felt that," I gasped, fighting to catch my breath.
Summoning every ounce of strength, I pushed myself up. My vision blurred but my resolve burned brighter than ever. I dashed forward again, furious.
"I KILLED YOU ONCE," I shouted, voice rough but steady. "YOU THINK I CAN'T DO THAT AGAIN!"
With a burst of speed, I landed a solid punch right in her chest. She staggered back, winded, and that's when I saw my chance.
Snapping my head to the side, I grabbed the crowbar lying on the floor, ready to finish this.
Before she could rise again, I pounced, letting instinct take over. I jumped onto her with all my weight and brought the crowbar down like a hammer fueled by every nightmare she'd dragged me through.
"DIE! DIE! DIE!" I roared with each swing.
The crowbar connected again and again, crunching bone, splitting skin, splattering dark blood across the floor. She shrieked, limbs flailing, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. I had to end this.
Then, she vanished.
The weight beneath me disappeared like smoke, and I felt the air shift behind me.
I spun on reflex. Just in time.
Her clawed hand sliced through empty air where my neck had been a second earlier. I ducked low, skidding back across the blood-slick floor. My heart thundered, but I was still standing.
She wasn't.
She staggered now, wobbling in place—a bloody, twitching mess. Her form was less solid than before, flickering around the edges, like even this place was starting to reject her.
I held the crowbar tight, chest heaving, blood in my mouth, sweat in my eyes, but I grinned.
"Not so tough now, are you?"