The silence after the escape was deafening.
They were back in the house's upper floor—the wooden beams groaning underfoot, mold creeping along the walls. But something was different. Off. Wrong.
Ryan sat on the floor, breathing heavily. "We made it… right? We got out."
Ethan couldn't stop staring at Aria.
She stood near the cracked wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze distant. Her hands were clean. Too clean. No dust, no scratches—nothing like the grime coating the rest of them.
"You okay?" Ryan asked, approaching her slowly.
She looked up—and smiled. "Of course. I'm fine."
Ethan stepped closer. "What did you see in there, Aria?"
She blinked. "I… don't remember. It's all foggy."
But that was a lie.
The real Aria had never forgotten anything. Her memory was flawless, terrifyingly sharp. This… this wasn't her.
Ethan's stomach twisted. He didn't know how, but he knew. The wrong Aria had come out.
He didn't tell Ryan. Not yet.
They agreed to leave the house.
But it didn't let them.
The front door, the windows, even the broken parts of the wall—sealed. Reinforced. Gone.
Ryan punched at the boards. "No! This wasn't here before—there was a way out!"
"It's the house," Ethan murmured. "It's changing again. Keeping us here."
Fake Aria tilted her head. "Maybe we're meant to stay."
Ryan didn't notice her words. But Ethan did.
That night, they camped in the living room, taking turns keeping watch.
Ethan didn't sleep. He watched her.
At 3:07 AM, Fake Aria stood. Silent. Still.
She walked toward Ryan as he slept.
Ethan rose quietly, a shiver running down his spine. "Aria?"
She turned slowly, her eyes catching the moonlight.
They were empty.
"You're not her," he said.
Fake Aria smiled. "You always loved her. But you never said a word."
Ethan's breath caught.
She leaned closer. "She would've loved you too, you know. But now she's gone. Buried beneath a hundred reflections."
Ryan stirred behind them.
Ethan stepped between them. "You're not touching him."
Her smile twisted into something sharp. "You can't protect him forever."
Suddenly—Ryan screamed.
A hand had reached from the floorboards—charred and skeletal—clawing at his ankle. Dragging him downward.
Ethan rushed to pull him up. "Hold on!"
Fake Aria didn't help.
She just stood there.
Smiling.
Ryan thrashed as he was pulled halfway through the rotting floor. "Help me! Ethan, please!"
Ethan didn't hesitate. He grabbed a splintered beam and smashed the floorboard. Again. And again. The hand let go—vanishing with a hiss.
Ryan crawled back, gasping.
And Fake Aria was gone.
Not a trace.
Just a faint whisper echoing through the room:
"One must stay…"
To be continued...