Max felt like his heart was beating too fast, as if it itself wanted to flee from the unknown. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so much fear. The homeless people had had something in their eyes. Something he couldn't easily describe, but it was like a dark secret lurking in that room.
"We have to get out," Max finally said, taking a step toward the stairs. But the others didn't immediately follow. Sarah and Tobias stood there as if they didn't know what to do.
"Do you really think this is safe?" Sarah's voice was shaky, and her eyes were afraid. She'd never been in a situation like this before. Never so close to something she couldn't control.
"It won't be that bad," Lukas replied, but his voice sounded less certain than he might have liked to tell himself. "Let's just go upstairs and then go back home."
"This... this doesn't feel right," Tobias whispered, his gaze averted. "I don't want to be stuck in this darkness while something... Something down there..."
Max took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. "It'll be okay. We'll go upstairs, get some fresh air, and then we'll talk, okay?"
Another look of uncertainty passed among the others, but finally, they nodded, all in agreement. Without another word, they turned and began to climb the stairs. Max could feel the cold draft nearby, approaching them, and the thought of leaving something behind in the darkness they couldn't understand nagged at him.
"What if the homeless are still following us?" Tobias' voice was quiet and fearful.
"They can't follow us," Max replied, his tone so convincing he almost believed what he was saying. "We're faster. Besides... whatever they are down there, they're not hunting us. They just... have their own problems."
It was hard to believe that, remembering the eerie eyes of the homeless people they'd seen in the basement. But Max said it to reassure himself, to reassure the others.
When they finally reached the upper floor, the room filled with a sense of relief. The air was less stuffy, and the sounds from outside seemed like a gentle promise of normality. But no one said anything. They all stood there, silent, unsure what to do next.
"What now?" Sarah finally asked, her voice quieter than before.
Max didn't know. He couldn't know. But he had to find an answer.
The group now stood in front of the basement exit, the darkness behind them almost tangible. They had agreed to split up. Max and Lukas went one way, Tobias and the others the other. "Keep your eyes open," Max said with a serious expression. "We need to know what was down there."
"Don't worry," Lukas replied, trying to hide his nervousness. "We'll come back as soon as we find something."
Max nodded, and they parted ways.
The sound of their footsteps echoed in the hallway, but after a few minutes, Max felt time stand still. Everything seemed to shift, as if the room around them was warping. The click of the flashlight was the only thing he heard. And yet there was something else. Something he couldn't describe, but it made him feel the fear that took his breath away.
Suddenly, he heard a sound that wasn't his own—a crack that felt like a broken branch. Max jumped and turned around. No one. Only silence.
He continued on his way, further into the darkness, when suddenly something glittered on the floor. He bent down and found a broken flashlight. It belonged to Lukas.
"Lukas?" Max called softly, but his voice just trailed off. Nothing. Not a footstep, not a sound.
He kept walking, unsure where to look. Then his eyes fell on a bloody trail leading along the floor. Max's stomach lurched as he reached the spot where the trail abruptly ended. There was no Lukas. Only a dark, gaping void.
"Lukas..." Max whispered. But he couldn't stop, not now. Something was here, and he had to find out what it was. Max stood still, cold sweat running down his back. He wanted to scream, to call for help, but the thought that something or someone might hear him paralyzed him. The darkness seemed to spread further and further, as if it wanted to swallow him whole.
He forced himself to keep walking. He had to find out what had happened here. But the further he went, the more he felt the walls closing in around him, as if the room itself had closed.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned hesitantly. But no one was there. He took a deep breath, then moved on, faster this time, as if he wanted to leave the room behind.
After a while, he came across another door. It was slightly open, and a faint light shone through the crack. Max crept closer, placed his hand on the handle, and slowly pulled the door open.
The scene before him made his heart sink. On the floor lay two corpses—Tobias and one of the others. Their eyes stared into the room, their faces contorted in an expression of horror, as if, at the moment of their death, they had seen something their minds couldn't comprehend.
Max's breath caught as he looked at the corpses. It was quiet. Dead silence.
Then he heard it—a faint rustling from the darkness behind him. Before he could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Panic gripped him, and he whirled around, but no one was there. Just the walls and the hallway.
Confused and terrified, he looked back at the bodies. What was going on here? Why did he feel like he'd just glimpsed the truth, one no one should ever know?
"Tobias..." he murmured as he moved toward the next hallway. "What on earth happened here?"
He didn't know why he kept going. Maybe because fear held him fast and drove him on, or maybe because the truth beckoned ever further, even if it was more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.
Max's steps quickened, and the cold feeling of dread crept further into his stomach. The images of Tobias' lifeless eyes and the other friend's contorted face haunted him as he hurried through the dark hallway. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and his thoughts raced. What was down here? What did it all mean?
He forced himself to push the thoughts aside. One step at a time, that was the most important thing now. Max knew that if he went back, he would not only leave the basement, but also the chance to find out what had happened.
"Hey! Where are you?" he called, but his voice sounded hollow and uncertain in the endless darkness. The silence answered him, oppressing his mind.
He kept walking, ignoring the strange feeling that gripped him. Why all these bodies? And why was no one there to help? Why was he the only one still searching for answers?
A sound behind him—something rustled, stepped on the cold, wet stone pavement. Max stopped. Slowly, he turned around, but there was nothing. The air was still stuffy and heavy, as if the basement itself was trying to suffocate him. No other sound, only the dull sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
He kept walking, faster now, as if he were trying to overtake himself. As he passed another door, he heard a faint voice—a whispering voice that took his breath away. He stopped dead, his hand already on the doorknob. What was that? Who was that?
"Who's there?" he called into the darkness.
Silence. Not a sound. Max pulled the door open.
That's when he saw them—two of his friends, half-hidden in the darkness, their faces smeared with blood and their eyes wide open, as if they had just witnessed something horrific. The scene before him was beyond horrific. He could barely move; the bodies of the others lay before him as if haunted by ghosts. The atmosphere was oppressive, as if he were trapped in a nightmare.
"Max..." he heard one of his friends say, but her voice sounded distorted, as if through water. "They're dead. All dead..."
Max's heart was racing. It was as if he had lost control of his own body. At that moment, he knew he was no longer able to remain calm. This truth, this horrific truth, exceeded anything he had ever imagined possible.
Max stared at the corpses of his friends, the image burned into his mind. He had never thought he would see anything like this, not in his worst nightmares. But now he stood there, right in the middle of the unimaginable, and reality felt alien.
"We have to get out of here," he said, more to himself than to the others. "Quickly."
But neither of them answered. Their eyes were fixed, their bodies motionless. The only thing breathing in the room was the cold, oppressive draft coming from the dark corridor behind them. Max wasn't sure if he could still trust them or if they, too, were already lost, like the others.
He looked around, searching for a way out. But the basement seemed to expand further and further the longer he looked at it. This wasn't just a basement. It was a labyrinth, a room full of dark secrets that gradually emerged.
"Max..." whispered a voice, penetrating his ear like a shadow. It was Lukas's voice.
"Come on, we have to move on. We'll find an exit," Max cried, trying to suppress the panic in his voice. But the thought that he wasn't alone wouldn't leave him alone. Lukas was here too. Lukas wasn't dead. But the monster—was it really dead?
His gaze wandered to the corpses of his friends. Max had to force himself not to lose control. One step at a time, he thought. But the silence was oppressive. The basement felt like a living organism, waiting for his next move.
"Max, what's happening here?" asked Lukas, suddenly appearing behind him. He sounded strained, almost panicked, but also somehow determined.
Max turned abruptly to him. "I don't know. But we have to get out."
"But... the others? They're dead, right? What about Tobias? What was that?"
Max didn't know how to answer that. How could he explain that he still had no idea what was really going on here? They were on the run, but against what exactly?
"We have to pull ourselves together and find the exit," said Max, continuing to look around. "We can't stay."
"True," Lukas agreed, but his voice betrayed hesitation. "But how do we get out of here?"
Max hesitated. They were standing in a labyrinth of darkness and deadly secrets. How could he ensure they made it out alive?
"Maybe... we should just try to look at the end of the corridor," Max said finally. "There must be something there."
The two began to move forward, each step heavy as lead. But the further they went, the more they began to feel the shadows around them. Max felt the air tightening around them, as if the basement was preparing for what was to come.
"Max, what do you think that was?" Lukas asked again, staring into the darkness.
"I don't know," Max replied, his voice weary. "But I'll find out."
And as they continued walking, the cellar around them grew even darker and more ominous. The silence that accompanied them was like a constant pressure on their chests. It was the only sound that accompanied them. But it wasn't a silence of rest. It was the silence of death, inexorably approaching.
The air in the cellar was stifling and heavy, the stench of mold and old blood hung in the darkness. Max and Lukas stumbled forward, their footsteps echoing on the cold stone floor. The flashlight in Lukas' hand flickered repeatedly, making Max's heart jump briefly in his throat each time.
"It has to lead out of here somewhere," Max murmured, more to himself than to Lukas. His voice trembled slightly, but he tried to remain calm.
"Up ahead," Lukas said suddenly, his voice strained. "Do you see that? There's a door."
Max turned his gaze into the darkness and made out the faint outline of a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor. Hope flared within him, and he sprinted off without waiting.
"Wait! Max!" Lukas shouted, but Max was already too far ahead.
He reached the door and placed both hands on the cold, damp surface. He pulled with all his might, but it didn't budge a millimeter.
"Damn it!" he cursed, while Lukas came up behind him.
"Let me look," Lukas said, pushing Max aside. He examined the door briefly and frowned. "It's locked. From the outside."
"What? How are we supposed to get out of here?" Max asked in a panic, his voice almost cracking.
Lukas looked at him calmly, almost too calmly. "We have to find another way. There's always a way."
Suddenly, they heard a faint scratching sound behind them. They both froze. Max turned slowly, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
"What was that?" he whispered.
Lukas held up the flashlight, shining it into the darkness behind them. But there was nothing to be seen except the dancing shadows.
"We should hurry," Lukas said quietly but firmly. "The police are coming. And whatever is down here... we can't meet it."
With one last glance at the locked door, they turned and continued walking through the cold, labyrinthine corridors.
After endless minutes of aimless wandering, Max suddenly noticed a draft of air blowing in from one of the corridors. "Wait, Lukas," he said, stopping. "Do you feel that?"
Lukas nodded slowly. "That's fresh air. There must be an exit."
Without another word, they followed the faint current of air. The stench of the cellar gradually faded, and soon they spotted a faint light emanating from a door at the end of the corridor. Max rushed forward, grabbed the door, and pulled it open.
"It's open!" he cried with relief. The fresh, cold morning air hit him as he stepped outside.
The two stepped outside and found themselves in a narrow backyard. Above them, the sky was dawning, and the first rays of sunlight were breaking through the clouds. But the calm was deceptive. Police sirens sounded in the distance, and a cold feeling crept up Max's spine.
"Max," Lukas said suddenly, his voice eerily calm.
Max turned around. The look in Lukas's eyes was different than he'd ever seen. "What's going on? We made it, right?"
Lukas shook his head slowly and pulled a knife from his jacket pocket. "I'm sorry, Max. But this was all a trap."
Max's heart pounded wildly, and he took a step back. "What are you talking about? A trap? What are you talking about?"
"I'm a hunter," Lukas said, slowly approaching Max. "A hunter of things, things you can't imagine. And to seal this thing... this monster, I need a victim. You."
Max stumbled backward, his legs feeling like lead. "Lukas, stop! That's not you!"
"Oh, Max," Lukas murmured, a hint of regret in his voice, "I'm really sorry."
Before Max could react, Lukas plunged the knife into his chest. The pain was stabbing and took his breath away. His eyes wide open, Max sank to the ground, his hands pressed to the wound.
"I have to hurry," Lukas murmured, tracing circles around Max's trembling body. With a strange, whispering chant, he began a ritual. The air around them seemed to change, darken, and the sound of the sirens was drowned out by a deep rumble.
"The monster is sealed," Lukas finally said with a cold smile. "But it's not final. With another victim, I can unleash it again—and control it."
He knelt beside Max and whispered, "Thank you, Max. You've been a good friend." Then he lowered his head, tore his teeth into Max's flesh, and devoured him until nothing remained.
When the police finally arrived, they found Lukas shaking and covered in blood. His story was clear: a demented homeless man had forced Max to perform a gruesome ritual before attacking him himself. The officers believed him—or at least pretended to.
Lukas knew he'd wrapped his lies well. But deep down, he also knew this was just the beginning.
Lukas stepped through the front door, his clothes torn and covered in blood. His mother, a petite woman with gentle eyes, rushed out of the kitchen toward him.
"Lukas! For heaven's sake! What happened? Are you hurt?" Her voice cracked with concern as she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the living room.
"Mom, I... I'm okay. It's not my blood." He avoided her gaze and sank heavily onto the sofa.
"Not your blood?" She swallowed hard and brushed a strand of hair from his face. "Lukas, where's Max? Where are your friends?"
He shook his head. "Mom, I don't want to talk about it."
"Lukas, you have to tell me what happened! I'm calling the police—"
"NO!" His scream froze her. "No police, okay? It was... it was homeless people who attacked us. They were crazy, Mom. I was just trying to survive."
She clutched her hands and nodded slowly. "Okay, okay, we'll talk later. I'll make you something to eat first. You need to rest."
"No, Mom." He looked at her seriously. "I need you now. Come to my room."
"Lukas, what—"
"Please, Mom. Just trust me."
With hesitant steps, she followed him up the stairs. When she reached the nursery and he opened the door, she screamed.
"Oh my God!" Her hands went to her mouth as she took in the scene: her husband's lifeless body dangling from the ceiling, his eyes wide open, the expression of pain frozen on his face.
"What... what did you do?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, choked with shock.
"He was a victim, Mom," Lukas said softly, his eyes cold and empty. "And you'll be next."
When she turned to flee the room, Lukas was already behind her, knife in hand. "For the ritual."
Lukas pulled the tarp from the trunk that covered his parents' two bodies and looked at them coldly. "That will have to do," he muttered, closed the trunk, and got into the car.