The rain hadn't stopped in three days. It drummed against the roof like skeletal fingers, filling the house with a rhythm Marcus could no longer ignore. Each drop felt like a countdown, a slow erosion of time, until the moment Sophie would slip from his hands entirely.
She stood at the window, arms crossed, her hair damp with sweat though the air was cold. The glass fogged beneath her breath, and Marcus wondered what she saw when she looked out—freedom, or a cage.
"He says it doesn't matter what you do," Sophie whispered without turning. "You'll lose me either way."
Marcus swallowed. "That's not true."
Her reflection met his eyes in the glass. "Then why do I believe him more than I believe you?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
The notebook lay open on the table behind him, its pages crawling with words that hadn't been there the day before. They shifted when he tried to read them, like ink alive, spelling out truths he didn't want to face. Ethan's voice was everywhere—whispering through Sophie, scratching across paper, humming in the walls.
Sophie turned, her face pale, eyes rimmed with shadows. "He gave me a choice."
Marcus's chest tightened. "What kind of choice?"
Her lips trembled. "One of us leaves this house. One stays. If I choose you, he says he'll stop hurting me. He'll sink deeper into me instead, until I can't tell where I end and he begins. If I choose him…" She trailed off, shivering.
Marcus forced himself to ask, though bile rose in his throat. "If you choose him?"
Her eyes glistened. "He says he'll let you go. He'll stop haunting you. He'll… free you."
Marcus shook his head violently. "No. That's a lie. He doesn't let anyone go. He just twists the knife in a different way."
But Sophie's voice rose, sharp and trembling. "And how do you know? You don't! You keep saying you'll save me, but every day I feel less like myself. Every day I wake up and wonder if I'll still be here tomorrow. What if the only way to save us is to choose?"
Marcus crossed the room, gripping her shoulders. "Listen to me. That's not a choice. That's a trap. He's trying to make you think you can control this, but the moment you give in—"
Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. "Marcus, I'm so tired. I just want it to end. I don't care how."
The words gutted him. He pulled her close, but she didn't collapse against him the way she once had. She stayed stiff, her body rigid as if afraid his touch would shatter her.
That night, Marcus dreamed of blood. Sophie's hands were stained, her lips whispering Ethan's promises as she carved his name into her arms. He woke to find her gone.
Panic clawed at his chest as he stumbled through the dark halls. He found her in the kitchen, the knife from before glinting in her hands. She didn't point it at herself. She pressed it flat against the wall, where the ink of Ethan's words had begun to bleed through the plaster.
"Maybe if I carve him out," she whispered, "he'll leave."
Marcus seized her wrist, pulling the knife away. "No, Sophie. That's what he wants—he wants you to think you can cut him out. But you'll only cut yourself."
Her scream tore through the night, raw and desperate. "Then what the hell do I do, Marcus? Tell me! Because nothing works. Nothing—" Her voice broke, and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing into her hands.
Marcus sank beside her, his own tears blinding him. "You fight. With me. No matter how hard it gets, we fight. Because the moment you stop…" His voice faltered. "…he wins."
Sophie lifted her head, her face streaked with tears, her eyes reflecting a storm that had no end. "And if I'm already his?"
Marcus had no answer.
Sophie didn't move for a long time. She sat crumpled on the floor, her tears soaking the wooden boards, the knife lying between them like a question neither dared answer. Marcus wanted to pick it up, throw it into the fire, burn the whole cursed house to the ground—but he knew Ethan would only rise again, stronger, from the ashes.
Sophie finally spoke, her voice hollow. "He won't stop asking. Every time I close my eyes, he's there, whispering: Choose. Choose. Choose."
Marcus reached for her, but she recoiled, pressing her back against the wall. "Don't. I can't feel you without feeling him, too. It's like he's wrapped himself around your skin."
The words nearly broke him. "Sophie—"
"No!" she snapped, her eyes wild. "Don't say my name like that. Don't make promises you can't keep. He's right, Marcus. Every vow you give me is just another chain he strangles me with."
Her voice shifted, low and mocking, and for a moment Ethan himself stared out through her trembling body: Tell her the truth, Marcus. Tell her you thought about leaving. Tell her you wanted to be free of her.
Marcus's heart lurched. Sophie's eyes widened as if she'd heard it too.
"You did, didn't you?" she whispered.
"No," Marcus said quickly, too quickly. His voice cracked like brittle glass. "I—yes, I thought about what it would mean. But I never wanted to leave you. Not truly. Never."
But the seed was already planted. Sophie pressed her hands to her ears, shaking her head. "I can't—God, I can't tell which one of you to believe anymore."
Ethan's laughter rippled through the room, shaking the windows. That's because there's no difference between us. He is me, Sophie. His doubts, his fears—they are my roots. Every word he speaks grows from my mouth. You're already mine.
Marcus roared, slamming his fist into the wall. "Shut up! You don't get to take her from me!"
But Sophie was trembling, her eyes darting between them, her breath ragged. "If I choose you, he says he'll devour me whole. If I choose him, he says he'll release you. What if he's telling the truth, Marcus? What if the only way to save you is to give myself to him?"
Marcus's body went cold. He dropped to his knees before her, gripping her hands despite her flinching. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. I don't want saving if it means losing you. I'd rather drown with you than breathe without you."
Her tears fell hot against his knuckles. "But what if drowning is all we have left?"
Silence stretched. The rain outside had grown heavier, drumming so loud it drowned out his racing pulse.
Then Sophie slowly pulled her hands from his and stood. She walked to the center of the room, where the notebook lay open, its pages pulsing with black light. The knife gleamed beside it, as if waiting for her decision.
Marcus scrambled to his feet. "Sophie, no—don't listen to him. Whatever he promised you, it's a lie."
She looked back at him, her face torn in half by despair and resolve. "It doesn't matter if it's a lie. What matters is that it's an answer. And I can't keep living without one."
Her fingers brushed the blade.
Marcus rushed forward, grabbing her wrist before she could lift it. "Then choose me," he begged. "Not him. Not this. Choose me, Sophie. Even if it hurts. Even if we both fall apart. Please."
For a heartbeat, something softened in her eyes. He saw the girl who had laughed with him under the autumn sun, who had touched his cheek like he was something worth holding.
But then her lips parted, and another voice answered through them: She already has.
The lights burst, plunging the house into darkness. The notebook slammed shut on its own, the walls shuddering with Ethan's triumph. Marcus staggered back, dragging Sophie into his arms as the floor cracked beneath them.
She clutched him tightly, her breath hot against his neck. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know who I chose."
And in that moment, Marcus understood the horror that Ethan had crafted: Sophie didn't need to give herself willingly. Doubt itself was the choice.
And Ethan had won it.