"What the hell…?" Clint muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he finished scrolling through the footage.
He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.
Everything he'd just seen left him reeling. He'd gone all the way back to the day that creepy doll first showed up in his apartment.
Exactly seven days later, a shadowy silhouette had simply materialized out of thin air right beside it, like some twisted version of the creation story.
For the entire month after that, the thing had been up to all kinds of insane nonsense.
At first it moved like a wild animal, scuttling across the walls and ceiling like a spider.
Then it started flying in tight circles around Clint himself, studying him.
Watching those parts gave him the chills; that grotesque creature had hovered inches from his face while he sat there obliviously eating dinner…
Then a far worse thought hit him: everything he'd done in private, all those moments he'd never want anyone to see.
"It saw everything…?" The realization made his throat tighten with shame. And the worst part? He was mortified in front of a ghost.
"You okay?" Enega asked, stepping into the kitchen. "You look like you passed out in here."
"Huh?" Clint blinked, his face burning. "N-no…"
"What's going on with you? You sick or something?" She reached out and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "Don't tell me you're catching a cold right now of all times."
"I'm fine," he said, brushing her hand away.
"Okay, okay. Hungry?"
"Yeah…" he answered, sounding drained.
They threw together a quick breakfast, got ready, and headed out. But just as they were driving toward school, Clint spoke up.
"Drop me off at the turn. I need to make a stop."
"What?" Enega glanced over and pulled the car to the side. "Where? You're skipping school?"
"I need to go back to that flea market."
Clint reached for the door, but the lock clicked, it was still engaged.
"Then I'm coming with you," Enega said lightly, starting the engine again. "I'm the one who knows where that stall is, remember?"
"Y-yeah…" Clint said. A wave of gratitude washed over him. "Thanks."
"Whoa." Enega shot him a bright, almost teasing grin. "Last time you thanked me like that was after that nightmare, when I stayed with you all night."
"You really didn't have to bring that up…" Clint muttered, rubbing his cheek as old memories flooded back.
He'd lived with Enega full-time until he was old enough to manage on his own.
Around twelve or thirteen, he'd moved into his parents' old, empty apartment.
Even that small step had felt huge. Enega only agreed to let him go if she could drop by whenever she wanted.
Back in her house, his paranoia had been at its worst, nightmares every night about someone breaking in and killing them both.
Once he moved out and started turning the new place into a fortress, the dreams mostly stopped.
It took him years to admit it wasn't the deadbolts or the bat under the bed that helped. It was finally feeling like he could stand on his own.
"Almost there," Enega said, nodding toward a four-story building up ahead.
It looked like a regular mall from the outside, but only the first two floors were anything close to normal, brand-name clothes, kitchen gadgets, that kind of thing.
The top two floors?
Total wild card. You could walk out with a cheap knick-knack or, if you were unlucky or stupid, a smuggled handgun from some neighboring country.
Nobody official ever seemed to care about those upper floors. Word was that certain vendors paid serious cash to the building owner, and he spread it around to the right people.
They pushed through the weekend crowd and headed up to the third floor, where the semi-legit stalls started.
Semi-legit because these were the folks who couldn't, or didn't want to, bother with proper licenses.
Nothing outright evil, but you wouldn't call most of it useful either. Pure gamble.
"So?" Clint asked, scanning the rows of counters.
"I think it's this way… or maybe over there…" Enega said, pointing in two completely opposite directions.
Clint sighed inwardly. Starting to regret this already. Oh well, extra pair of eyes can't hurt.
After a few minutes of wandering, they turned into a dimly lit hallway. Enega suddenly perked up.
"This looks familiar. Yeah, definitely."
Clint let out the breath he'd been holding.
"Oof…" A girl with long black hair hanging over her face bumped straight into Enega. "Sorry, didn't see you there."
The hallway was dim, sure, but the real issue was that heavy bang covering her eyes. And the way she'd appeared out of nowhere felt… off.
Something glinted in her hand as she passed. Without thinking, Clint's fingers darted into her pocket and slipped out whatever it was, soft, leather-like.
The motion felt alien. He wasn't a thief. He didn't want to steal. But his body had moved on pure instinct, smooth and practiced.
Once she was gone, he opened his hand and saw a very familiar wallet.
"This yours?" he asked, holding it out to Enega.
"Since when do you pickpocket your own friends?" she said, snatching it back.
"My own?" Clint frowned. "Since when are random goth girls part of the crew?"
"Wait…" Enega froze, then her eyes narrowed with fury. "Someone tried to rob me?!"
"Shh!"
"Why shh?! They tried to…" Clint slapped a hand over her mouth before she could yell the whole floor awake.
"We're not in a market bazaar," he hissed, meeting her glare. He already knew he'd pay for this later. "Yes, yes, we'll deal with it. Just not right now."
She bit his hand. Hard.
He yanked it back. She took a breath, then muttered, "Fine…"
"Didn't have to bite."
"Didn't have to gag me."
"You wouldn't have stopped otherwise."
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. He had her there.
"You make it sound like I can't control myself…" she grumbled, but the fight had gone out of her.
"There." Clint nodded toward a door. Hanging beneath the sign was that unmistakable, terrifying Babadook doll. "Same vibe."
"Oh, yeah…I only went in because of that thing," Enega said, already pushing the door open. "Thought you'd get a kick out of it."
"I don't remember ever saying I'm into nightmare fuel."