There had been two days since Ahaan escaped the grave beneath the orphanage.
Two days since he saw the giant red eye…
Two days since the Sleeper whispered in his mind.
But now, even far from that place, something was still wrong.
The world felt… different.
Too quiet.
Too still.
Too cold.
At breakfast, his mother stared at her plate for too long.
Not moving.
Not blinking.
Then suddenly, she said in a strange, soft voice:
"He's watching now."
Ahaan froze.
"Who's watching, Ma?"
But she didn't answer. She blinked like waking up from a dream and smiled.
"Did you say something, beta?"
She didn't even know what she said.
That same afternoon, Ahaan walked outside.
The neighbors' houses looked darker.
One of the dogs barked nonstop — but its voice sounded scared, like crying.
Ahaan passed by the little grocery shop nearby. The shopkeeper, Mr. Farid, usually smiled and gave him candies.
But today…
Mr. Farid's eyes were wide open, pupils shaking.
His hands were bleeding — he was gripping a glass jar too tight.
"They're in the walls," he whispered. "They're crawling in the walls."
Blood dripped from his fingers.
Ahaan stepped back slowly.
Something terrible was happening.
That night, Ahaan opened the journal again.
It flipped to a new page on its own.
The words appeared slowly, like someone was writing from the other side:
CASE THIRTY-SIX: The Sleeper is Spreading
"The eye was never meant to close.
You stopped the body,
But the mind of the Sleeper… lives in others now."
Below the text, a drawing appeared:
People with wide eyes, black mouths, and veins crawling out like roots.
They weren't monsters.
They were normal people—but changed.
Possessed.
Ahaan touched the page.
Suddenly, a whisper echoed through his room:
"You brought him light.
Now he wants the world."
His window glass cracked.
From outside, something crawled across the road.
A tall, human-like shape.
But it was crawling on all fours — backward, its head twisted around.
Its mouth was stitched shut.
And still… it screamed.
Ahaan shut the window fast.
His hands shook.
Then he saw the reflection in the mirror.
Not the stitched creature.
But his own eyes, turning darker.
Almost… red.
He gasped and ran to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.
When he looked up at the mirror — he looked normal again.
Was I imagining it?
Or was the Sleeper inside him too?
That night, he dreamt again.
But it wasn't a normal dream.
He was walking in a town with no sky.
No sun.
Only eyes — blinking slowly — on the buildings, roads, and trees.
Everyone in the dream had no mouth.
Just stretched skin where lips should be.
And they all turned to him…
Pointed…
And said without voices:
"He's inside you now."
Ahaan woke up screaming.
His bedsheets were wet with sweat and dirt.
Dirt?
He looked down and saw mud on his feet.
As if… he had walked somewhere during the night.
But he never left the bed.
Right?
The journal flipped again.
A new line appeared:
"You're not just the hero in this story, Ahaan.
You might be the key.
Or the next door."
Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered.
His phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number:
Do you know where you were last night?
No name.
No number.
Just that.
Ahaan dropped the phone and ran outside.
He had to get to the orphanage again.
He had to find out if the Sleeper was really sealed — or if it was already too late.
As he reached the gate…
The ground near the back of the building was cracked open again.
But this time, the eye was gone.
And instead of whispers, he heard children laughing.
But not happy laughing.
It sounded wrong.
Like the laughter was being played backward.
Ahaan looked up.
On the wall of the orphanage, written in blood, was a message:
"He doesn't sleep anymore."
And below that, scratched in deep claw marks:
"Thank you, Ahaan."
Then...