The Dark Somnium - The Thing In The Basement Is Getting Better At Mimicking People

Episode Date: January 31, 2022

This creepypasta scary story is from the nosleep subreddit, written by ThatExoGuy, make sure to check out the original story and support the author! https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/r7moep/the_thing_in_the_basement_is_getting_better_at/--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/darksomnium/message Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hey everyone. So the channel's past 500,000 subscribers, and that's something that I never thought would happen, and it's something I'm incredibly grateful for. I wanted to take a minute before the story starts to just say thank you to everybody who's supported the channel, who's helped create the community, and who's been here for the last few years, or just anybody who's even recently joined. When I first started this channel, I pretty much thought it was just going to be like a hobby, something I was going to do for. for fun. I was so sure that I'd never gain more than a few subscribers that I used to joke about if I ever passed 10,000 subscribers, I would do erotica videos or stories. Obviously, you know, that's because I didn't think I'd passed 10,000 subscribers. And some of you may have even been around back then. But I wanted to say thank you, just to all the support you have given the channel and me and the community. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be a film composer and to

make a living off of writing music. And I feel like what I do now isn't too far off. So, like, if I died tomorrow, I think I'd be pretty content with what I have in life, if that makes sense. And I'm just very grateful for that. And on the note of music, some of you have been asking where to get the music from my last video, which is this song. And I'm going to be posting that on my music channel. I'm going to try to post it today. I just wanted to add a bit more to it before I was happy with releasing it. But I won't take up too much more time before the story starts. I wanted to just say that I'm going to do a 500,000 subscriber video where I'll be doing a Q&A. So if any of you had any questions you'd like to ask, feel free to leave them in the description. I also have a

PO box where you can send me, you know, like letters or if there's any fan art you have. I'll also be including that in the video. So I'll post my PO box information in the description. And if you see somebody else has posted a question that's the same question you want to ask, go ahead and like their comment so that we can collect all of the top questions at the top of this video, and I'll make sure that those get answered. Also, shout out to the people in this video, the guest narrators. We have Lady White Rabbit, Romnecks, Big Daddy Stone, Dexter, and Spirit Voices. So remember to check out their channels and show them some support. I'll have links to their channels in the description. But yeah, thank you all again so much.

much for all of the support and I never thought I'd get to 500,000, so if we ever get two million I'll have to do something crazy, I don't know what, a backflip maybe, and then die. It'll be a video, YouTuber died doing a backflip. All right, anyway. With that said, enjoy the story. I never had a close relationship with Sarah, my older half-sister. She was born out of my dad's earlier marriage, so by the time I came into the picture, she was already

a teenager. We didn't argue or fight. We simply never spent time together. I was starting kindergarten when she moved out, and she wasn't thrilled about having a younger brother. I barely saw her as I got older, meeting only occasionally during holiday get-togethers or in the once-in-a-blue moon visits. But we were on good terms. So when the cops called us a few days ago, to let us know they found her body, I was devastated. Some neighbors apparently called 911 when they heard screams and saw smoke coming out of the house. After the firefighters put out a fire in the basement, they found some charred remains that they assumed were hers. They couldn't identify her, given the body's state, but all of the evidence pointed towards

an accident. She didn't have a husband or kids, so the duty of burying her fell on us. The funeral was what you'd expect under such circumstances. Lots of crying and mourning around a closed casket. But the deed was done. I was left an only child, and a few days later we took to scouring her house and doing an inventory of her belongings. It was an all-around unpleasant experience on many levels. It felt so wrong to go through her things like that.

With her only living relatives being my father and I, we inherited her house and possessions. We decided we didn't want them, so we'd sell almost everything. The plan was to only keep some of Sarah's stuff as mementos, things like pictures and whatnot. I went along with Dad to help, and we went room by room, cataloging items one by one. Given the small size of the house, it went pretty fast, but we started late into the day, so we wouldn't be able to finish by nightfall. One of the detectives wants to drop by later. Says he has some more investigating to do.

My dad said as we were getting ready to leave. He asked for someone to stay here tonight, but work won't allow me. Could you do it, champ? Uh, sure. I mumbled, not in the least thrilled about the prospect. Dad packed a small box of trinkets in his trunk and off he went home. The only room we hadn't gone into was the basement. And I wasn't about to do it by myself.

The wood door leading into it was wide open, charred by the fire and black with soot. The basement itself was in a similar condition, ravaged by the fire and by the firemen's attempts to put it out. It unnerved me to no end, so I dragged a chair out on the porch and spent the evening there. I smoked half a pack of cigarettes and drank some old beer left behind in the fridge, all while the neighbors regarded me with curiosity. A few of them even approached me, giving me their condolences when they found out I was Sarah's younger brother. The detective finally arrived at sundown,

pulling onto the street in an old beater call. He looked like your average guy when he stepped out, dressed in a cheap suit and a loose coat hanging on his shoulders. Hello, I'm Detective Marcus. He introduced himself. Clancy, nice to meet you, Detective. Likewise. I'd offer you a beer, but I assume he can't drink on duty.

Eh, might as well. Marcus said with a shrug of his shoulders. I'm off the clock, and I'll be here all night. That took me by surprise, but who was I to argue with the man? I fetched him a chair and a beer, so he sat down and lit up a cigarette as well. We had some admittedly awkward small talk, but the subject quickly moved to Sarah and her death. Marcus asked the usual questions. Was she depressed? Did she go outside? Or was she a shutting? Did she have any friends or romantic

partners he could question? All perfectly reasonable questions meant to dig up new leads, but I was the wrong person to try and answer them. I wasn't particularly close to Sarah, so I didn't know most of the answers that Marcus wanted. Don't worry about it. I get it. He reassured me. I don't speak much with my old man. For example, couldn't tell you his birthday if he She put a gun to my head, let alone what he's up to these days. It's just...

I never imagined she'd go like this, you know? I'd have made an effort if I knew. Don't beat yourself up over it, kid. What's done is done. It was getting late and darkness settled, so we went inside. I led Marcus to the living room, and he shared some of the case details with me after we made ourselves comfortable. The reason I wanted to stay in the house overnight is this. As he spoke, he pulled out a smartphone and brows some files on it.

I'll warn you, they're pretty disturbing. If you want me to stop at any moment, just say so. He pressed play on an audio file, then laid the phone down on the small table between us. We both leaned in as Sarah's voice resounded from the speakers. Recording one. Is this out working? Test. Test.

Oh, okay. Well, uh, my name is Sarah. I moved into this house two days ago. And I, uh, I heard some strange noises last night from the basement. I'm kind of paranoid right now, because I live here alone. So I'll leave my phone out to record them and hopefully find what's up. Recording too. Some breathing is heard in the background, and the phone gets set down. Footsteps walk away from the microphone.

Then it's quiet for a long while. Marcus skips through most of the recording, as it is nearly nine hours long. About two hours in, around midnight, the microphone catches a distant crash. Some skittering follows, sounding like a cat running around on bathroom tiles. It goes on for a few hours with long pauses between bouts. A deep voice calls out weekly. What the hell? I let out.

Marcus paused the recording and looked at me. Do you want me to stop it? He asked. I contemplated his offer. On one hand, whatever followed had the potential to traumatize me for life, but on the other hand, the sheer curiosity would eat me up alive if I didn't find out more. So I gave in and told him to let it play. The voice calls again, this time sounding more human.

No one answers it. The voice falls silent and the skittering carries it away from the microphone. No more sounds are heard that night. Recording three. I knew it. Someone's living in my basement. Recording four. Okay.

I... I calmed down a bit. I was terrified after I listened to the last recording, so I ran out of the house and called the cops. A squad car came after about half an hour. The bastards took their sweet time. But I showed them the recording. I went back inside accompanied by a cop, and we checked out the basement. No one was there. We turned the place inside out. We checked everything. But the room is small. No windows, no exits, and no place for someone to hide. The cops think that it was an intruder that broke in, but they couldn't find any signs of it. They said they'll patrol the neighborhood at night and keep on the lookout for any suspicious activity. One of them also asked me to keep recording just in case.

recording five Okay, here goes I'll leave the phone out tonight as well The cop car just passed on the street So I feel a bit safer The sound of the phone being placed down is heard And Sarah's footsteps follow She leaves and the recording is silent for a few hours

Marcus skips ahead through it Until another distant crash is caught The skittering returns Stopping a few feet away from the microphone Hello? The voice calls out. Is anyone there? Hello?

It sounds more feminine than the last time, still inhuman, sort of like an artificially generated voice, but verging on crossing into the uncanny valley into natural sounding territory. It calls out a few more times over the span of a few hours, sounding more and more like a woman. When it becomes apparent that no one will answer its calls, the voice stops. The skittering takes it away from the microphone, and the rest of the recording is silent. This is getting all kinds of freaky. I mumbled. I know.

Marcus admitted. Never seen anything like it before. Do you recognize the voice by any chance? Not a clue. I admitted. It doesn't sound familiar. I was afraid that would be the case. Marcus said with a sigh.

Sarah confirms a possible identity to the voice in a later. recording, but I wanted to double check. Then maybe show it to Dad? I provided a solution. He was closer to Sarah than me. He might have an idea. Marcus fell silent for a moment. He joined his hands beneath his chin and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table.

The look in his eyes turned grim and worried. I'm sorry, Sonny. He said out of the blue. For all you've heard so far and for all that's to follow. But I'm glad it's not your father. that decided to stay. These recordings might just break him. What? I asked, dumbfounded. What's that supposed to mean? It will all make sense if you keep listening.

Marcus answered. The change in his demeanor was strange, and the night took an unnerving turn. I should have backed out. I should have kicked him out. I should have done a lot of things differently, but my curiosity mounted to levels beyond my ability to rein in, so... I proceeded to listen further. Recording six. What the hell? That was Mom. Sarah cries into the microphone for a few minutes before the recording ends.

Recording seven. I'm not going to call the cops anymore. That was Mom calling out. I don't. I want to talk to her. She's been gone for so long. Recording eight. Okay.

I've calmed down a bit. I hope. I'll wait here tonight. The recording is silent for a long time. It turns off abruptly after about half an hour. Do you know anything about Sarah's mother? Marcus asked me. I jumped back in my chair at the sudden interjection, completely absorbed by my thoughts.

Not really, I admitted. She died before I was born. It was why dad remarried. Marcus gave me a thoughtful nod of his head in answer, and he played the next recording. Recording 9. It's back. I'll start another recording. The scurrying returns. Sarah's breathing is audible in the background, and it gets faster as the sound approaches her.

A chair creaks, presumably as she gets up, and her footsteps join the skittering in the background. Hello? The same woman's voice from the previous recording calls out. Who are you? Who are you? The voice repeats Sarah's words back to her. Mom? Sarah cries out in a trembling voice.

Mom. The voice repeats her words again. Who the hell are you? How do you have my mother's voice? Who are you? The voice repeats. Footsteps resound again, approaching the voice as it says the same line over and over.

Answer me! Sarah demands. Knocking is heard as if someone is bashing a door with their fist. Answer me. The voice coos. What do you want? The voice lets out a few guards. I am terrible, but they are intelligible.

Its pitch and intonation adjust before it speaks again. Sarah, my dear, is that you? I was left stupefied. The uncanny valley was finally crossed, and the voice sounded decidedly human for the first time. It held none of the animalistic traits from before. The subtle anger and malice in it was gone, replaced by a deep sense of compassion and worry. The voice continued. I haven't seen you in so long.

Sarah weeped silently in the background, but she doesn't answer the voice again. It, however, keeps calling out. I've missed you, my dear. Footsteps sound out as Sarah backs away, and the voice grows distant. It calls out over and over again, but the facade cracks. It can't maintain its grasp on the charade for long, and it devolves back into the uncanny valley slowly. The footsteps pick up speed until they turn into a run.

After a few seconds, the voice becomes inaudible. A door is opened and closed shut with force, and Sarah starts crying uncontrollably. The recording stops. The recordings are time-stamped. Marcus says, After this one ended, Sarah didn't make another one for a few days. Considering what I just heard, I didn't know how to answer.

I kept silent, mulling over my own thoughts and feelings on the matter. As intriguing as the situation was, I mostly felt horrified and sorry for Sarah. I couldn't even begin to imagine what must have gone through her head after living through that. Why are you showing me all of this? I asked Marcus after a while. If you really are a detective and part of the police force, you'd lock stuff like this away behind ten locks and keys.

leaned back in his own chair, thinking my question over. He pulled out his crumpled up pack of cigarettes and retrieved one from it. I pushed the ashtray closer to his side of the table as he lit it up, and he bellowed out a cloud of white smoke. All in due time. He answered. His eyes scanned me in a fashion completely different from before, with a cold and calculated look behind them. What do you think so far? I... I don't know. What the hell's going on? Answer me, Clancy, and be honest. He demanded. Whether or not I'll show you more depends on it.

I racked my brain, but I was truly and utterly stumped. The situation devolved too fast for me to keep up, and I didn't know what to think anymore, but I could tell that that wasn't the answer Marcus wanted. It's, I don't know, a ghost, a demon, Skinwalker? I hazarded a guess. Marcus seemed surprised by that. He pushed the cigarette away from his face, letting out another lungful of smoke. And do you believe that?

He said bluntly. That it could be something supernatural. What the fuck else could it be? I answered his question with another. What do you think it is? What I think is irrelevant. I want to know what you believe. That's what I believe, I answered.

I didn't know Sarah well, but she wouldn't fake something like this. So either she was haunted by something or you're messing with me. That's the correct answer. Marcus said with a satisfied smirk. He put out the cigarette in the ashtray and leaned over the phone, placing a finger over its screen. So, how about it? Do you want to hear more? Why would I want that?

Do you or do you not, Clancy? No hard feelings either way. I can't force you to listen. I... Yeah. Ah, start the next one. I don't know for sure why I decided that. We could sit here all day while I blame curiosity, or more likely, stupidity, but those answers

would be half-truths at best. It didn't feel like a want at the time. It felt like a need. I needed to go through with it. I needed to hear all of it. The reasons I felt that way didn't matter at the moment. I have a good feeling about you, kid. Marcus mumbled as his finger tapped the screen and started the next recording.

Recording 10. I don't know what to do anymore. It's driving me nuts. Whoever's messing with me comes back every night. I hear them even now. The microphone picks up footsteps and a door creaks open slowly. Faint mumbling comes from the distance, accompanied by the familiar skittering. It pauses for a brief moment before it speaks up.

Sarah. My dear. The voice calls out, not entirely human. Please. I just... The door closes shut with a loud thud, and Sarah retreats back into the room. I tried a lot of things over the past few days. It calls from the basement, so I got locks and put them on the door.

They're untouched, so whoever it is isn't coming from outside of the house. It hides in there somewhere. I called the cops again while the thing was there. but it left when the cops arrived. The two officers asked me to unlock the door, and they checked the basement again, but lo and behold, it's as empty as last time. I'm not sure what they think of me.

Maybe they suspect I'm fucking with them, so I can't rely on their help. I even told Amy about the thing and showed her the recordings. So she slept over yesterday. The thing somehow knew I wasn't alone because it didn't make a peep the entire night.

I'm not sure if Amy believes me or not anymore. Hell, I wouldn't believe me if I were her. But she offered a solution. Get a roommate or a boyfriend, someone to live with me. It could work, but I don't know anymore. Do you know this, Amy? Marcus asks as the recording ended. I think Sarah mentioned her a few times, but I never met her.

I looked over my shoulder as I answered, at the corridor leading to the kitchen. The basement door was on one of the walls there, and I could see the locks mentioned in the recording. They hung open on the door, but they were still intact. Marcus snapped his fingers to get my clearly distracted attention. Then he pointed down at the phone. Want to keep going? He asked once more. Yeah.

Before I hit play, I want to ask you something again. did you by chance suffer any mental trauma as a child or even recently something that shook you to your core? I raised an eyebrow at the strange question. No? Why? You're taking all of this surprisingly well. Your mental fortitude is pretty high.

Marcus answered. That's sometimes a sign of... Never mind. He hit play before I could pry him for more details. So, I felt so. silent to not miss it. But I made up my mind. When it was over, Marcus would have a lot of answering to do. Recording 11. I've tried my best to ignore it. I slept at a friend's houses some nights, but that's getting harder to pull off. I tried looking for roommates, but no one wants

to share a small house with this stupid pandemic around. And my search for a boyfriend is just as fruitless. I'm getting a bit old for the dating scene. I'll keep at it, but from the looks of things, everyone's mostly down to fuck and not much else. I don't want to resort to frequent one-night stands. The police still answer my calls, thankfully, but they're not doing much. Even their patrols are getting less and less frequent. I'm at a total loss here. I've considered selling the house and moving, but I can't afford that.

Dad might be my last resort. Maybe I can move in with him and his wife and son. We're not exactly friends, though. So who knows? And I can't risk telling them. There's no chance in hell they'll take me in if they think I'm crazy. Hearing that, hearing her opinion of me and mom, it stung. Sure, we weren't more than acquaintances, but we're not horrible people.

We would have taken Sarah in if she reached out to us. So to know that her salvation was so close, kept at bay only by superficial assessments of us, it sucked, plain and simple. And if she would have showed us the recordings, we might have even believed her, especially Dad. Play the next one. I demanded before Marcus had a chance to say anything. You sure? You sound a bit riled up. Maybe... Play it. Marcus sighed deeply, but he did as I said. Recording 12 It's still here.

It won't go the fuck away. I haven't talked to it in almost a month now. But it's still here. It's going to drive me insane for real. I can't take it anymore. I'll confront it again tonight. Maybe I can find out what the fuck it wants or get some answers. Recording 13.

The recording starts and it's quiet, save for static for a few moments. Sarah takes a deep breath and a barely. audible step. Are you there? The skittering returns, coming closer to the microphone than ever before. It sounds more frantic than usual. Of course, my dear. The voice says sweetly,

I'm always here. You stop that, you hear me! Stop using her voice! The voice coughs loudly. It changes as it does, slowly morphing and growing deeper. When it stops, it sounds male. Sarah, honey. I paused hearing that.

It was Dad's voice, no doubt about it. Although it sounded ever so slightly off, I could recognize it. Up to that point, my running theory was that the thing could mimic the dead, but Dad is still very much alive, so that threw my theory out the window. I didn't know what to believe anymore. What do you want? I just want to see you. Open the door.

Sarah backs away as her breathing grows faster. Please, honey. The voice begs again. It's dark down here. I just... Shut up! Sarah runs away from the door as the voice's calls continue in the background. That was your father, correct?

Marcus asked when the recording ended. I... Yeah. It's not a Skinwalker, like I thought at first. I don't know much about them, but, like, skinwalkers need to kill their victims to copy them, right? Not necessarily. Marcus answered. But they do need to hear the voice they're trying to copy.

And anyway, a Skinwalker could have broken down the door. So it's something else, I deduced. But what? I'm not sure yet. He went to play the next recording, but I stopped him. Where do you know so much about Skinwalkers from? Marcus chuckled dryly. All in due time, Clancy.

We still have a few recordings to go through. He hit play on the next recording, so we listened. Recording 14. It's not just mom and dad anymore. The damn thing has so many voices now. Amy, my ex-boyfriend, Clint, random voices I can't place. Hell, he'd even use the voices of those two police officers that went down in the basement looking for it. It keeps calling for me.

Pleading and begging, feigning confusion, asking to be. let out. But I won't do it. I won't open that damn door ever again. Fuck whatever I keep down there. It can have my stuff for all I care. I'm tired. I can't sleep because of it. It's getting so hard to do anything. I swear. Today I almost got fired for mixing up customer orders for the 20th time. I nearly snapped at the manager, but I stopped at the last second and apologized. Some co-workers noticed I'm acting off and asked me about it, but I can't tell them. Hell, I'm starting to think I might be crazy myself. Recording 15.

Sis? That's as far as I got into that particular recording. I slapped my hand over the phone with enough force to send cracks into the screen surface of the tablet. Marcus jumped back into his chair, taken by surprise. What the hell? I let out. That's my fucking voice. I knew this.

one would get to you. Marcus answered with a half grin. Or, well, get to you more than the others. I never visited Sarah here. I stressed. It couldn't have heard my voice, so how the fuck did it copy me? Think, Clancy. Did it ever hear Sarah's dead mother?

Marcus answered my question with another. For how long has she been dead? Twenty years, I said, as I finally understood. So what does that tell you? It doesn't need to hear people's voices. Correct. Marcus said, satisfied by my breakthrough. So what?

It can read minds? Maybe. Marcus said, scratching his chin. At the very least, it can form a connection with people. But until we catch it and see for ourselves, I can't say for certain. Catch it? I echoed his words. Is that what this is all about?

You want to catch it? Marcus wiped his smirk off his face and looked at me in. Yes, Clancy. Either catch it or kill it and solve your sister's case. So what, are you? But Marcus didn't let me finish. He pushed my hands away from the phone's screen and hit play on the recording, interrupting me. All in due time. He repeated once more. Sis, are you there? It repeats in my own voice. It's been some time since Sarah's first recording of the mysterious voice, and it sounds thoroughly human. at this point. No more cracks in its facade can be gleaned.

Listen to me and listen well. I won't put up with this anymore. You have tonight to leave my house and leave me the fuck alone. I'll go to bed, I'll plug in some earphones, and I'll ignore you. If I hear you again tomorrow night, you can bet your ass. I'll come down there and end you. Whoever or whatever you are, understood. She sounds different somehow, worried, tired, Manic. Please, sis, for fuck's sake, open the door and let me out. And why would I do that? How'd you get down there anyway?

I, fuck, I don't know. I can't remember, but it's scary down here. Let me help, please. It copies your mannerisms well. It's spot on, actually. Marcus interrupted. It does. I admitted, feeling the color in my face draining little by little as I listened.

Given enough time to learn. Learn. That thing could be a top predator. And let me guess, you can't let that happen. We can't let that happen. Marcus corrected. All in due time. I replied and pushed play on the recording.

Sarah doesn't say anything else. Her footsteps carry her away from the basement door and the voice pleads in the background. The recording ends after Sarah closes the door to her bedroom. Recording 16. So I can't get a firearm. I don't have any money for that, and I don't even know how to handle one anyway. And fuck me. Gasoline's getting pretty expensive, too. But I could afford a canister worth a few gallons and a box of matches.

The current plan is simple. I'll fuck that thing up if I hear it again tonight. I'll pour gasoline into the basement through the crack beneath the door, and I'll light it on fire from up here. Fuck the house. Fuck the authorities. Fuck the repercussions. I can't let it live.

I don't care if I end up in prison or in a loony bin so long as it dies here. My God, Sarah, I mumbled as the recording ended. Hearing her in that state of mind broke my heart. No one deserves to go through what she did, and the fact that we didn't help her sooner, that none of us made an effort to be in her life, it ate me up inside. We could have made a difference. I could have made a difference. Maybe then this tragedy would have had a better ending.

There's only one more to go. Marcus said. He leaned over the table and slapped a hand down on my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze. I nodded my head as I felt tears forming at the corners of my eyes and signaled for him to play it. Recording 17. The fucker is still here. I warned it. I tried to be nice.

I really did. What more could anyone ask of me? A liquid sloshes around in the background, presumably the gasoline. Her brinkered. Breathing is strained and close to the microphone. Metal rings out as it hits the floor. Sarah? It calls out in the voice of her mother.

I warned you! Something topples to the floor, and the sound of rushing liquid is heard. This is on you. It's not my fault! Sarah, please. What are you doing? What I said, I wouldn't. You didn't listen. Why didn't you listen? Please, Sarah. You don't have to do this. Just let me out, please.

Enough! Stop using her fucking voice! The thing falls silent. Sarah takes a deep breath, and the sound of gasoline pouring out of the canister dies down as it presumably runs out. Her clothes rustle as she searches her pockets, and she shakes the matchbox when she finds it. The sound of matches jumping around inside is the only audible thing for a moment. She opens the box and fumbles around with the matches for a moment. You know what that is, don't you? The voice doesn't answer her, but instead it skitters away from the door frantically.

Sarah takes one final breath, and the sound of a match being struck is heard, loud and clear. Get fucked. The microphone doesn't pick up the lit match hitting the ground, but it picks up the gasoline igniting. Air rushes in as the flames begin to burn, and Sarah lets out a yell. The voice begins to scream loudly, rapidly, rapidly switching back and forth. Please! It lets out one final call for the first. First time, using Sarah's voice.

The recording ended, leaving me wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions. I was horrified. I was stupefied. I was strangely glad for it to finally be over. I was a mess, to put it bluntly. My body felt like it melted into the seat, but I quickly composed myself when I remembered that Marcus still had some questions to answer. Did Sarah kill it?

Did we bury a monster instead of her? I asked in a single breath. I don't know. Marcus answered. It could very well be the case. But then... Then where is she? Exactly.

Plus, a lot of other things don't line up. But to be fair, they didn't line up no matter which angle I went at it from. All that we know for certain right now is that someone died in a fire. So, Monster Hunter, huh? I asked after a few moments of heavy silence. Pretty much. Marcus answered. I'm the one they call when shit gets spooky.

And let me tell you, this shit is very fucking spooky. Okay, but all this still doesn't answer the most important thing. Why show me this? Any of this? I asked. Marcus lit up another cigarette and leaned back in his chair. For the first time since he entered the house, he seemed truly comfortable, like he had nothing left to hide. We're always on the lookout for new recruits.

So consider tonight your entry test. He admitted. You're a bit rough around the edges, but you seem like a decent candidate to me. Me, a monster hunter. You can't be serious. I shot back with disbelief. Marcus just shrugged his shoulders. You'll never know unless you try.

I sure as shit didn't. Never expected to hunt the things that go bump in the night before I tried. And what if I refuse? I asked. Will you kill me? me or erase my memory or something? If you don't want to, you don't want to. Simple as that.

You can try to tell anyone, but who's gonna believe you? I frowned, and Marcus caught on that he struck a nerve, so he composed himself and got up, taking the phone and stashing it in his pocket. Look, kid, it's like I told you, time and time again tonight. I can't force you to do anything, but consider it. Okay? As he said that, he pulled out a business card that he tossed on the table in front of me. The world desperately needs more people like us.

If there were more of us to go around, then maybe. Maybe what happened here would have been stopped sooner. Yeah, it might be too late for your sister. But you could make the difference for someone else. If you make up your mind, doesn't matter if it's tomorrow or a year from now, give me a call. All take care. With that, Marcus left. I saw him to the door and closed it behind him.

Then I went to crash into bed. My entire worldview was shattered tonight, and I decided to go get some rest before I tried to make sense of the pieces. The following days were uneventful, but even so, the strain of that night hung over me. It permeated my thoughts at all times, permanently active in the background as it burrowed deeper and deeper. Dad returned. We finished clearing the house and he put it up for sale, but I couldn't focus on that. Not when every thought I had was about those damn recordings. In the end, I had to stay over for a little longer, despite my constant complaints. Because of the

slummy neighborhood and sketchy neighbors, Dad didn't want the house to go unoccupied. That's basically asking for thieves and punks to break in. And it's going to be hard to sell it if Squatters make nests here. So just hang on for a little while longer, okay? I wanted to fight him on the matter, to tell him he could stay over himself if he was that worried, but I didn't. I couldn't. Not when I knew the truth about what went down there.

He wouldn't be another death on my conscience. So I lived in the house for another week or so, helping out with renovations and whatnot. And truth be told, it wasn't all that bad. It was a bit creepy, sure, but the freedom of living on my own was oddly pleasant. One evening, after he went home and I was left alone, I heard a knock on the door. I slowly made my way over to answer, expecting either him or Marcus, but who I found on the other side left me terrified. It was Sarah. Hey, Clancy.

She greeted, sounding almost casual. What? What? How? I let out in a meek voice as my tears started to flow. I have a lot of explaining to do. I know, but... I didn't let her finish.

I jumped her, latching my arms around her shoulders as I bawled my eyes out. She put her arms around me as well, and we hugged for minutes in the doorway as I cried. What happened? Where were you? I asked when we finally parted. We buried you. We thought you were dead. I'm sorry.

A lot happened and I had some problems. I ended up running away to a friend for a while and... She sighed. It's a long story, okay? And very crazy. Tell me about it, I said, rubbing away the tears. Call dad and tell him to come over. He needs to know you're okay as soon as possible.

Actually, it would be better for you to do it. I don't want to give him a heart attack. Good point. I admit it. We kind of got rid of most of the furniture, but make yourself comfortable. I'll call him and join you. Don't take long. She said and went inside to find somewhere to sit.

I watched her walk down the corridor towards the kitchen, pausing by the basement door. She looked at it for a long moment. Then she continued on her way. I pulled out my phone and Marcus's card, unsure about what to do. The thing's facade was good, damn near perfect, but... As it spoke those last words, its voice cracked just a little. A lot and yet so very little has happened since the last time I posted. I'm more confused and paranoid than ever.

I feel like I'm taking ten steps back for every step I take forward. The situation is slowly devolving into a variable mess, and I'm thoroughly entangled in the web of deceit that I admittedly contributed to creating. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, so I'll pick up where I left off. I ended up calling Marcus first, and he answered almost right away. Hello, this is Detective Marcus. How may I help you? Hey, it's me, Clancy. Oh, hey, Clancy. How's it going? Did you make up your mind?

I peeked inside the house before I answered, but I couldn't see Sarah. She was in the kitchen, and by the sounds of pots being overturned, I figured she was raiding the cover. for something to eat. Sarah came back. What? How? When? Just now. But I think it's the mimic. There's something off about her. Okay. Marcus said and took a deep breath. Stay calm. I'm here for you. Is she there right now? Are you keeping tabs on her?

She's in the kitchen. I'm outside on the porch. Good. Don't lose sight of her. Does anyone else know that she's back? Did you call your parents? Not yet, I answered. I panicked called you for help. Okay. You made the right decision. Marcus reassured me.

I knew I was on to something with you. What do I do now? Do I go in there and... No. Marcus yelped. Don't do anything brash, okay? Don't confront her until you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's the mimic. I'm a few hundred miles away on another case, so the fastest I can make it there is a few days from now.

I wasn't planning to. Don't worry. I'm not stupid. Just keep tabs on her. If anything comes up and I mean anything, let me know. I'll rely on you to keep me informed. Can I do that? Of course. I answered. You're a good kid, Clancy. Marcus said, almost making me laugh. I'm 20 for crying out loud. You have a good head on your shoulders, so I trust your judgment.

If the situation gets dicey or you feel your indefinitely, Danger, don't hesitate to run away. We'll do. I'll try to wrap up this case as fast as possible. Hold out until then. Try to keep her isolated if you can. It'll be less of a headache to clean up everything if she ends up being the mimic. That's going to be pretty hard.

I admitted. She already asked to talk to Dad. You'll figure something out. I'm sure of it. Gotta go now, but we'll keep in touch. I ended the call and peeked inside the house again. Again. The rustling had stopped.

Sarah? I called out hesitantly. I didn't disappear again. Don't worry. She answered with a chuckle. I'm brewing some coffee. Do you want a cup? Sure.

Did Dad answer? He, um, um, I fumbled for words. No, he left for the Grand Canyon. I just remembered. Said he needed some time away, so he didn't take his phone with him. Oh. Well, in that case, come in. I wasn't sure if she believed me or not.

She likely had her doubts, but until she'd confront me about them, I decided to take my small victory. Be right over, I answered. I was thankful for the short reprieve, but I still needed to do something, so instead of trying to call Dad and risk exposing my lie, I shot him a text. Hey, Dad, the detective called. He wants to examine the house again. He said you should steer clear of it for a few days. Gonna call you tomorrow.

Good night. Dad texted me back almost right away. Okay. Want me to come over in the morning and pick you up? No. I'll be staying here to help him out. Okay. Talk to you tomorrow then.

Good night. Good night. Love you guys. With that, I stashed my phone away and made my way to the kitchen. Sarah was by the stove boiling a pot of water. I observed her for a few moments, but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary about her. Do I have something on... She mumbled when she noticed me staring, pulling at her shirt to check on it.

No, no, it's just... I'm glad you're okay, that's all. She gave me a soft smile and turned to dump a pack of coffee grounds into the pot. I couldn't remember her ever being this cheery and warm, especially towards me. But then again, her change of attitude could be a... explained by what she'd been through. So, I filed it under potential red flags, but decided to hold my judgment for the time being. How much sugar?

She asked, as she poured us each a cup. A two cubes is enough. She dropped two cubes into the murky liquid, handed me the cup, and sat at the table opposite of me. We sipped the bitter insomnia for a few minutes, both unsure of where to take the conversation. When it became apparent that she wouldn't talk, I took just to. charge of the situation and did so myself. So, long and crazy story? Yeah.

Tell me about it. I'm all ears. Okay. So the gist of it is that I kind of went stir crazy. Not sure why, but I did. I started hearing voices calling out to me, thought the house is haunted, and I ran off. I took in what she said. Hanging on every word.

Sarah hid a lot from me in that confession, and I wasn't sure what to believe or do. Should I confront her, bring up the recordings, the creature in the basement that she tried to burn alive? That sounds rough. I said instead, deciding to play along. My hope was that if she didn't know I was on to her, she wouldn't try to harm me or run away again. I could only speculate about the mimic's goals, but if it wanted to take over Sarah, I was

Sarah's life and masquerade as her, I needed to keep the illusion intact for as long as possible. The potential mind reading it might have been capable of through a wrench in that plan, though. So the only thing I could do about it was to pray she wouldn't try it. Yeah. She agreed. The last few months were a little, well, completely shit, to be honest. But I'm doing better now, and I'll start looking for a therapist soon. It sounds like a plan to me.

We took a few more sips from our cups. but something seemed to bother her. She stared into her coffee intently, her brows furrowing as if she debated internally over something. You said that you buried me, that you thought I was dead. What's that all about? Did you declare me missing or something? Was it an empty casket? Another thing I needed to lie about, and possibly another attempt at deceit on her part.

I made note of it as I thought of an answer, filing it away with the rest of it. of the evidence that was building up. No, someone. Someone burned alive in your apartment. Some neighbors called the firefighters. They put it out, and we thought it was you. So the authorities declared you dead, and we buried the body. Fuck me.

That's going to be hard to explain and overturn. Who burned, though? I prodded, trying to see if she'd confessed to anything. I don't know. Some squatter, maybe? I don't want to badmouth my neighbors, but one of them. might have broken in if they noticed I was gone. We have to call the cops tomorrow and let them know.

We'll see. It might be a better idea to hold off on that for a few days. I said absentmindedly. What? Why? She burst out. If they think I'm dead, we should let them know as soon as possible. I needed to think of something fast, and her haste gave me an idea.

Yeah, you're right. I answered. I'm just tired and thinking stupid shit out loud. Don't mind me. I have the number of the detain. that handled the case, and we can call him right now if you want. Sarah eyed me with distrust for a moment, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. She reached out a hand over the table, wiggling her fingers. Dial him and give me the phone. She demanded. I did as she asked,

pulling out the phone and dialing Marcus's number. She snatched it out of my hands after I put it on speaker, and I was hoping he'd catch on and play along. It rang a few times before he answered. Hey, Clancy, what's up? Did anything... It's not Clancy. It's Sarah. Marcus dropped the phone, and we heard the clattering as it hit the ground. He let out a few quiet curses as he picked it back up. Sorry. Miss Sarah, you really took me by surprise. I'm Detective Marcus. I was tasked with investigating your... well, death.

I know, Detective. Clancy told me about you. That's why I wanted to call you right away. and let you know I'm alive. That is amazing news. I'm glad to hear you're fine and it's all been a misunderstanding. Thank you. So, how do I go about reverting the whole mess? Where do I need to go?

Who do I need to call? Well, Miss Sarah, it's a convoluted process, made no simpler by the fact that a body was found in your house. I'm away on another case for a few days. But I suggest you wait until I return. Don't contact the authorities until we consult a lawyer. They might flip the case into manslaughter, try to pin you as a primary suspect. Sarah looked up from the phone and shot me a confused glare. Marcus had more or less told her the same thing I had.

I wanted to sigh of relief at his quick thinking, but I abstained. She couldn't suspect we were working together. Okay, thank you, detective. I'll be waiting for your return. She said in a defeated tone. No problem. Stay inside for a few days. Don't travel. Try to put together a statement of what happened. We need as many details as possible to make your case. We'll do. Marcus bid us good night and ended the call. Sarah tossed me my phone back, placed her half-empty mug on the table, and moved to get up. Where to? I asked. I'm going to bed. I'm drained. Where's my phone, by the way?

I don't know. It probably got... lost in the shuffle when me and dad cleared out the house. I lied. The fact that she asked for it unnerved me, however. It made me suspect that she wanted to cover the tracks and delete the recordings, so I couldn't let her know that Marcus had it. Bummer, I wanted to watch a show or something. She lamented. Anyways, I'll be going. Feel free to join me whenever. No worries. I'll sleep on the couch. Suit yourself. She said with a chuckle and left the kitchen.

I waited for a few minutes, listening to her and to her bedroom and changing. Her reactions up to that point didn't seem abnormal by any means. They were all perfectly reasonable. But I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was out of place. That sensation coupled with the fact that she'd lied to my face made me suspect that she had more to hide. That was a close call. I texted Marcus. You're alone right now.

Yeah. Yeah, she went to bed. Okay. You have to figure out if she's a mimic or not. Before I return, we'll have to make her move. I'll try. It was nearing ten in the evening by that point, but I didn't feel tired enough to sleep yet. So instead, I went online and did some research.

I found a lot of stuff about a slew of creatures that sort of fit the profile of what I was facing, but none of it lined up perfectly. I couldn't rely on those reports, so I decided. to share my own story in hopes of finding out more. Maybe people with similar accounts would come crawling out of the woodwork if I spurred them on. I turned off the lights, sat back down in the chair, and typed away on my phone. The night progressed as I did my best to capture my experiences in writing, and soon enough I was absorbed by the recounting. Usually I'm not a speedy writer. I take longer than average even on short texts, but my curiosity and need

for answers fueled me like never before. I was almost done when I felt a hand coming down on my shoulder. What are you writing there? Sarah asked from behind. I fumbled with the phone, nearly dropping it. She gave me a good scare, and I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as my pulse rose. Sarah squeezed my shoulder tighter as she laughed at my clumsiness, and I quickly backed out of the app. It's, um, I'm...

I faked a sigh, as if she caught me red hair. handed with something embarrassing. I'm sexing with someone. Wow. Sarah answered. Keep it in your pants in my house, will you? She went around the table and sat down, not bothering to turn on the lights. That left the room in almost complete darkness, with only faint rays casting in from the street

lamps outside. I could make out the contour of her body, but many sort of details were obscured. What are you doing up so late? I thought you went to sleep. She picked up the coffee mug. and took a loud sip. Her eyes had an almost surreal glow to them, and I felt them boring into me in a way completely different from before. There was malice behind them as she measured me up.

Nightmares. She answered, setting down the mug and rubbing her eyes. Couldn't sleep anymore, so I got up. What about you? I couldn't sleep either. I tried to meet her gaze with my own, to confirm what I'd seen and felt, but she averted eye contact. That made my paranoia rise as my whole body tensed, but I tried to keep calm. We had some more small talk about this or that, nothing of substance, and I could feel her eyes on me again whenever I looked away.

It drove me up the wall to feel that calculated coldness, like I was facing an ambush predator thirsty from my blood. Can I bum a sig? She asked. I threw her the pack in the lighter, and she pulled out a cigarette. The small flame illuminated her face as she lit it, and her skin looked deathly pale. When she passed the pack back to me, I smoked one as well to calm my nerves. No more words were exchanged.

We just sat there in each other's smoke exchanging quick glances. I checked my phone, finding it was nearly 4 a.m. by that point, something that the buzzing between my thoughts confirmed. It was getting late, and I was too tired to think straight. I couldn't risk going to sleep either, not when I was unsure about Sarah's intentions. For all I knew, that was exactly what she waited for. She finished the first cigarette, then asked for another one, and another one, chain-smoking half of my pack in about an hour.

I pulled out my phone, checking the post in a last desperate attempt to focus and stay awake. Did she answer? Sarah asked when the blue light hit my eyes. Who? The girl you were sexting. She said with a snort. Or the guy. I don't discriminate.

She, uh, she blew me off. I mumbled. Sarah chuckled dryly. Oof. Bad luck with the ladies? Yeah. I kept lying. I can set you up with one of my friends if you want.

A girl named Amy. She's an absolute sweetheart, but she struggles with dating too. She can be a bit awkward at times. The mention of that name made me perk up. I know that Marcus said to keep Sarah isolated from everyone, but Amy had also heard the recordings, and she could have been useful to me in this endeavor. She knew Sarah better than me, so if I could convince her, if I could get her on board, she had a better chance of recognizing the mimic.

Sure thing, I answered, letting a bit of my enthusiasm slip through. Okay, I'll call her over tomorrow. Well? She got up, walked over to me, grabbed my arm. Now, go get some shut-eye. You can't be looking like a zombie. She has some standards. Tomorrow, I protested.

I wanted to meet Amy as soon as possible, sure, but Sarah's haste surprised me. Yeah, tomorrow. No offense, but you're kind of boring and I could use her company. Ouch, offense 100% taken. I answered with a timid laugh, but it's okay. I get it. I'm not exactly Mr. Exciting in the flesh. I got up and went over to the couch, with Sarah on my heels the entire way.

She had brought out a pillow and blanket for me before she found me awake and riding in the kitchen, which was a sweet gesture. But the effect it had on me was quite the opposite, serving to fuel my paranoia even further. The back and forth between her words and actions, her being kind one moment and cold the next, It felt like a deliberate attempt to confuse me. Was she playing some sort of mind games? Was she even aware she was doing it? Was I losing it and seeing signs where there were none?

It's probably the last one. I decided as I unfurled the blanket and made myself comfortable on the couch. I'm tired and not thinking straight. I try to get some more sleep too. Sarah said before she headed for her room. When her door closed, I pulled out my phone and set an unlock pass. were just in case. Then I set it to record audio and left it on the cracked table as I drifted off.

Sleep came fast, and it was a deep, dreamless blip that seemed to go by instantly. I woke up only a few hours later to the light of the morning sun reflecting off the table into my closed eyes. Sarah was already up and about, preparing breakfast in the kitchen, judging by the sounds and smells reaching me. Good morning. I mumbled as I entered. Up already?

Sarah asked, turning away from a sizzling frying pan to face me. He barely got any sleep. I'm fine. Don't worry. I took a seat at the table and she served me eggs and bacon. As I ate, she took my phone and called Amy to invite her over for lunch. Amy accepted right away, so they ended the call after a bit more small talk that I couldn't focus on. You didn't mention me.

I jabbed as she handed me the phone back. I thought this was supposed to be a date, Sarah smirked. All in due time. You can ask her out yourself if you two hit it off. And by the way, can you go out for groceries before she comes? You didn't exactly keep the fridge stocked. We barely have anything. I grunted, but she wasn't wrong.

Besides some beer and the eggs and bacon that we ate, the thing was barren. So I got ready to run an errand to the closest shop while she cleaned up. And hurry up. You'll have to take a shower, too. I left the house post haste, putting on my earbuds and starting the recording from last night. It was only my light snoring for the most part, so I put it on fast forward. Nothing in it jumped out to me, no skittering or talking, so I paused when I reached the store. It's a small family-owned business, so, besides the old lady manning the register and myself,

there were few other souls in sight. I got my stuff, had some small talk with her while I paid, and I was off again. By the time I made it back home, I was about halfway into the recording with nothing to show for it. Maybe I'm just losing my mind. A stray thought shot through my head. I mean, monster hunters and mimics and all that. I put the groceries away and went to take that shower. The water was scalding, but I pushed my body under it and allowed it to melt my worries away.

I'd solve the case and everything would be fine and dandy, no doubt about it. If Marcus trusted me, if he saw something in me, I couldn't sell myself short. Amy arrived sooner than I expected, right as I was drying off and getting dressed. I came into the living room to find her and Sarah at the table. Amy, this is Clancy, my younger brother. Clancy, this is Amy, my best friend. Sarah did the introductions. Nice to meet you.

Amy said, getting up to shake my hand. She was a few years my senior, but she was cute, I'll admit. Definitely out of my league, though, so I can't imagine how Sarah thought she'd date me. Same, I answered. I'll go make us coffee and some snacks. Sarah said. Be right back. As she passed me, she elbowed me in the ribs and winked.

I let out a chuckle and sat down opposite of Amy. So. She mumbled when Sarah was gone. Uh, yeah. Sarah was right. We were like two fish out of water, two very awkward fish that didn't know how to get a conversation going, which was bad news for me. After all, I couldn't steer a non-existent conversation into the desired direction,

so I needed to do something about it. Dating be damned, I needed Amy's help first and foremost. Did Sarah tell you about what's going on in her life lately? I asked, getting straight to the point. A bit blunt on my part, I know, but we had a little time until she returned. Amy raised an eyebrow at my directness. She said she's having some mental problems, yeah? She showed you the recordings, right?

At that, Amy frowned. Is she showed them to you as well? No, a detective did. A detective? She asked. Her words filled with confusion. Yeah. Look, what I'm about to say will say.

Sound crazy, but listen until the end. We might need your help. Go ahead. Amy said and waved a hand through the air. Okay, so Sarah made those recordings because she heard a voice in the basement, right? Look. Amy interrupted me, despite what I asked of her. That was Sarah.

It wasn't some monster or ghost. She made those voices herself. But... I caught her in the act, okay? Amy insisted, and the look in her eyes turned sharp. She came over to my place for help when she couldn't take it anymore, and I heard her myself. She sleepwalked and talked in different voices, having conversations back and forth with herself.

It's not some monster. Your sister had a mental breakdown and made up the whole thing. We found a dead body in the basement. I retorted, which shook Amy. I could see as much by how her expression changed. Sarah didn't show you all of the recordings. She made 17 in total. In the last one, she set fire to whatever was in the first one.

She set fire to whatever was in the basement. She what? Amy whispered aggressively. Yeah, we found the body and we thought it was her. I continued. We buried it. She's legally dead and six feet under. The look in Amy's eyes turned into pure terror.

She glared past me at the kitchen where Sarah merrily went about preparing us lunch. She didn't tell me about that. What the hell? Did she kill someone? Not someone. I pressed. Something. Me and the detective believe it was a monster, a mimic of sorts, and it might have taken Sarah's place.

Stop with the bullshit already. It wasn't a monster, okay? Worst case scenario, your sister committed murder. The door was locked at all times. There was no other way in or out of the basement. Police officers checked it twice and didn't find anyone, and Sarah locked the door as soon as they were out. How the hell did someone get in there? You weren't there to see it, were you?

All you have to go by are recordings. Sarah is mentally unstable. Unless you saw it with your own eyes, how do you know that she latched the locks? That she didn't lie on the recording. Fuck me, I thought. That was a good point. Well, I, I mumbled. The wind in my sails as good as gone.

Coffee's done. What are you two mumbling about? Sarah asked from the kitchen. Nothing. Sounds like quite the intense nothing. Can you come over and give me a hand before you two jump on each other? Amy got up, but she stopped next to me and placed a hand on my arm. Drop it about the recordings, okay?

We'll talk more later when Sarah's not around, but don't mention them around her. It took me two weeks to calm her down. There's no monster. Your sister is sick and needs professional help. I didn't say anything else, realizing that it would be in vain. Amy seemed like she'd already made up her mind on the matter, so she wouldn't be of much help. I was back to square one more or less. But what little information she did share could have been useful.

I just needed to figure out how it fit into the bigger picture and the theories that were developing. Did Sarah talk in different voices at Amy's place because she was the mimic or was she truly having mental problems? But even if that was the case, it couldn't explain how she reproduced Dad's voice or my own so flawlessly. No, no. The mimic was real, that much I knew for sure. I'd heard the recordings with my own ears.

The only question I needed to answer was if it was dead or not, and all the mounting evidence pointed towards naught. The two returned from the kitchen with coffee and the promised snacks, and Sarah looked at me with a wide grin. Amy, in the meantime, gave me the best stink eye I've received to date. Sarah started telling her of the few shared memories we had, but I could see that the same neither one of us focused on the story she spun. I'm going to go out and have a smoke.

I interrupted Sarah. You can smoke indoors. It's fine. Nah, I need some fresh air anyways. Sarah protested some more, but I got up and headed for the back porch. It was farther away, so they wouldn't hear or see me. I lit up a cigarette as soon as I was out and retrieved my phone, intending to call Marcus and update him.

But I paused when I saw last night's recording still on the screen. Something about it wasn't right. I slept for about four hours at most, but the recording was only two hours long. The phone was on the table, so I couldn't have turned it off by accident in my sleep, and I forgot to turn it off when I woke up. Clichet as it will sound, I felt the blood in my veins freeze as I skipped through it until I reached the end. The door opened in the background, and footsteps slowly approached the microphone.

They circled the room a few times, stopping near me as I snored softly in the background. Nothing happened for a few minutes. Then the phone was picked up off the table, presumably by Sarah. Her breathing was audible for a few moments, and the recording stopped abruptly. I peeked inside, feeling the terror and paranoia in me mounting, but I couldn't see the two of them. I only heard them talking and laughing. I just needed to know about this and I needed guidance on how to proceed, but he wouldn't

pick up. So I opened my messages and navigated to our conversation. Yet to my horror, I found it blank. I backed away from the house slowly, deciding not to wait around and see what would follow. Sarah's backyard wasn't big, and it was separated from her neighbors by a measly picket fence, to jump over for a hasty getaway, since I wasn't able to get through the house and risk being seen. Luckily, her neighbor didn't have any dogs and didn't even appear to be home, actually.

So I ran through their yard and emerged on another street. With no destination in mind, I wandered the town for a while as I planned my next move. First things first, I needed to contact Marcus, but he wouldn't answer his phone. I tried calling him over 20 times, only to be met by his voicemail. You've called Detective Marcus. If I didn't answer, I'm either busy with work, I'm sleeping, or I'm dead. Leave a message after the beep, and I'll call you back, either when I'm done with work, when I wake up, or when I'm resurrected.

Hey, Marcus, it's me, Clancy. Sarah's onto us. She's 100% the mimic. I ran away. Call me back as soon as you can. And just to be sure, I sent him a text as well. Sarah's on to us. Call me back ASAP.

With that taking care of, I needed to decide where to hide. I still lived with my parents, and their house was obviously out of the question. It would have been the first place Sarah checked for me. Without a place of my own, and with few friends that also still lived with their parents, or in college dorms, my options were down to nothing. No choice. Gotta take my chances at home. I decided.

I did tell her that Dad was away, so maybe my lie would buy me a bit of time. It was also across town, so, at the very least, it would put some distance between me and her. I reached at half an hour later on foot and tried to call Dad, but he wouldn't pick up either, straight to voicemail. Same with Mom, who'd usually answer her phone even at work. I banged on their door, tried calling both their phones again and again, all to no avail. Fine, I'll let myself in then.

We had one of those fake, hollowed-out garden rocks where we kept the house. an extra set of keys, but lifting it up, I found the spares missing. We never misplaced those keys. Dad was very insistent about it. I felt another pang of panic, and my thoughts instantly went to Sarah. Did she anticipate this scenario? Did she steal the keys? No, I can't be.

I had her under watch ever since she came back. Unless the recording she'd stopped, was it for this? So she could leave her house, run across town, take the keys? She definitely would have had enough time until I woke up. But, no, that made no sense. If she did that, if she had gotten so close to Dad, she would have made her presence known to him. Amy, maybe? That didn't make much sense either.

Amy was probably a victim of the charade, not an accomplice. No, I have to dial back the paranoia. Someone simply used them and forgot to put them back. My phone started ringing, but it was an unknown number. I was tempted to answer, thinking it might have been Marcus, but I didn't. It rang until it was directed to voicemail, so I waited with a bated breath to see if the person would leave a message. No dice. A text popped up on my screen soon after.

Hey, it's Amy. Where are you? Sarah's worried. Speak of the devil. I mumbled to no one in particular. I didn't respond to them, of course. And fortunately, they didn't try again. So I waited on the porch for either mom or dad to come home and let me in, trying to decide

what lies to spin for them. A few minutes turned into half an hour, then into an hour, then into two, but neither one arrived. I checked my phone, 5 p.m. Any minute now. I kept trying to reach Marcus in the meantime. I think I made fifty calls at the very least, but none of them went through. 6 p.m. came and went, then 7, and my parents showed no signs of returning.

That, of course, only served to exacerbate my distress. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. With 8 p.m. around the corner, and no one answering their goddamn phones, I decided to break into my own house. I smashed one of the small windows on the front door with the fake rock, unlocked it from the inside, and made my way in. Half of me expected to find my parents waiting in the dark, or worse yet, as two-day-old corpses, but the house was empty.

The rest of the evening was spent in silence and dread, with me looking out the window every other minute expecting Sarah and Amy to come knocking, which they didn't. I locked up everything I could and went to the garage to get something to patch up the broken window. It was a nice diversion from my worries. I always found that keeping busy helped me. As I was nailing a plank over the gap, my phone dinged. Can't call.

Driving back right now. I handed the case to another hunter. Hold out until tomorrow. I'm almost there. We'll probably arrive near sundown. Thank God. I thought, feeling a wave of relief washing over me as I read the text. Marcus would come to my rescue and he'd know exactly what to do to sort out the mess.

He'd fix everything and I could go on with my life. For a few minutes, I nearly melted away, but let me assure you the calmness I felt was short-lived. I tried to call my parents again to see why they weren't home yet despite the late hour, and I heard faint ringtones coming from upstairs. I followed the sounds with shaking steps, hearing it grow louder as I approached the door of their bedroom. It came from inside, and I paused with my hand on the door's handle for what felt like

a short eternity. I couldn't bring myself to go through with it, to throw it open and face the potential horrors inside. Images of the two of them dead sprawled on their bed as their flesh rotted away, invaded my mind. I shook from my very core. Come on, I urged my body. Move, please. I closed my eyes, and with my breath hitching in my throat, I turned the handle. The door was unlocked, and it opened with loud squeals that resounded.

throughout the house. I braced myself for the putrid smell I expected would follow, but it didn't come. Stale air with an undertone of cheap laundry detergent wafted out instead, calming my shot nerves. I opened my eyes, finding the room empty. After thanking every deity I could think of for sparing me of gruesome sights, I went inside and started searching. Their phones were on the nightstand beside the bed, displaying all of my missed calls. Sarah got them after all.

She was just smart enough not to leave the bodies here. I couldn't sleep much that night, so instead I got a crowbar from the garage and made rounds around the house. I double and triple checked all of the doors and windows to make sure they were locked, then I hunkered down and waited. The coffee machine worked overtime as I pumped my veins full of caffeine and nicotine in an effort to stave off my exhaustion. For nearly two weeks of improper sleep, I was starting to feel the effects.

It will all be okay. It won't last much longer. I tried to reassure myself. I only need to hold out for tonight and tomorrow. Then Marcus will save my sorry ass and I'll be able to sleep for three days straight. That's how I spent most of that night, wide awake in the dark kitchen, with the crowbar by my side. I wrote the previous post to keep myself busy, and I jumped at every little sound that came

from outside. Midnight came and passed, and I found myself dozing off into short bursts of microsleep. Come on, I urged myself. Stay awake, damn it. More sounds came from outside, in the form of passing cars or wandering animals, but I checked them regardless. I ran around between the windows, parting the drapes only enough to see without being seen myself. To my relief, none of the cars that passed were the same, so for the meantime, I wasn't being stalked.

By sunrise, around 7 a.m. or so, I finally couldn't take it anymore. I was a wreck in every sense of the word, and fatigue did me in. I'm not sure when or how it happened, but I think I just fell off my feet and went to sleep on the floor because I don't remember ever laying down. It was fitful and all around too short. The phone's ringing woke me a couple of hours later at around 9 a.m. I just, I just remember I jolted to my feet with my heart pounding so hard that I was afraid it would break free of my chest. You probably know the sensation, that distinct panic of being woken suddenly by loud sounds.

At any rate, I checked my phone and saw Amy's number. I half wanted to just throw the damn thing against a wall and break it, but I stopped myself when I realized it was my only lifeline to Marcus. The call went to voicemail, and I received a text soon after. Where are you, Clancy? A steady buzzing burrowed into my brain, nesting between my thoughts. My temples ached from the lack of sleep, and when I tried to rub the herd away, it spread to the rest of my scalp. You said you wanted to talk without Sarah around, so let's meet somewhere, just the two of us.

Another text from Amy, and one that felt distinctly like a trap. I didn't want to respond and risk falling for it, but I reminded myself that Amy could have been a victim as well. Maybe I still had time to change her mind and get her on my side. Where? I shot a text back. Wherever you want. Name a place. That set me a bit at ease.

If it was really a trap, she wouldn't have offered to let me pick the location. I texted her the name of a small diner that served to kill her breakfast and told her to be there in an hour. It gave me enough time to shower and change, and I took it freezing this time. The cold water helped me sober up, even if I could. couldn't get rid of the throbbing in my brain. I felt a bit more rejuvenated when I was done, so I hit the road, making a small detour to buy a pack of cigarettes. It was that same small shop I mentioned last time, as it was halfway between our houses

and close to the diner, only this time it was empty save for the old cashier. A feeling of deep dread shot into me the moment I stepped foot inside. You're being paranoid again. I told myself as I calmed down, get a grip. It's the lack of sleep. The lady bid me good morning, and we made small talk as I paid for the cigarettes. I went to pull out my wallet and rife through it for change, but the moment I took my eyes off her, I felt her staring at me.

The same tension I got from Sarah setting in so fast and intense that it made me jump back. Are you okay, dear? The old woman asked as I bent down to pick up the wallet. Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm just, I'm just tired, ma'am. Good grief, you sure look the part. You're so young you should take better care of yourself. I will, I reassured her. I'm just going through a rough patch, that's all.

I got a few bills and coins, placed them on the counter in front of her, and turned to leave. Have a good day, sweetie. My ears likely played tricks on me, but I could swear in that moment that her voice cracked just a little. It sent a chill crawling down my spine and put a spring in my step, sending me into high alert as I power walked away. You're imagining things. I insisted. You're tired.

You're not thinking straight. Get a grip. I tried my best to do just that as I headed to the diner, but I failed miserably. The encounter stuck with me, ripping through my mind and leaving behind more paranoia in its wake. Was Sarah the only mimic? Were there more of them? Why was everyone looking at me as I walked, shooting me glances from the corner of their eyes? Was I acting strange, giving them a reason to, or were they on to me as well?

I slapped myself when I realized just how absurd I sounded, and it helped set me straight, even if just a little. I didn't have any proof of more mimics, no reason whatsoever to believe that it could multiply and spread. A few minutes later, I reached the diner. It's a dingy little place, dirty and sticky most of the time, but I always found the places like these served the best damn food. Some tables were set outside, and I saw Amy on her phone at one of them.

She wasn't talking to anyone, just browsing the internet by the looks of it. Hey, I greeted approaching her and sitting down. Morning. She answered, locking the phone and placing it on the table face down. How's going? Not too hot, I won't lie. No shit. Amy said with a giggle.

I mean, no offense, but you look like total crap. I let out an awkward laugh as I rubbed the back of my head because, ouch, offense taken. Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm not usually like this, but the last couple of weeks were stressful. I imagine. So where's Sarah? At home, sleeping. She was awake almost all night worrying over where you went, so she's tired out.

She answered with a bit of anger in her voice. Did you tell her we were meeting up? No. You said you didn't want her to know, and I figured we had enough time to talk. Knowing her, she'll be out cold until noon. Okay, but thank you for giving me another chance. Here to help. Amy said, and her frown melted into a shy smile.

Sarah's a good friend, so if she worries over you, I worry over you. The conversation veered off after that, but I decided to let it. I needed to distract myself, to think of something else, even if only for a short while. We talked about our personal lives, like our jobs and studies and whatnot, but I was careful not to share too many details. The waiter came and took our orders, returning with our food and drinks in what felt like a blink. And then the teacher caught us, and I got suspended for a week. Amy finished telling me about some of her high school misadventures.

But you should have seen Clara's face. It was totally worth it. Probably took her a month to clear the shit off her windshield. I bet she didn't mess around with you guys after that. I said with the laugh. You bet she didn't. She avoided us like the plague. Never really had problems with bullies myself.

I was friends with the jocks and they kept me safe. But I did get into trouble when a teacher caught us smoking behind the gym. So you started early, huh? Yeah, I was a stupid teen that wanted to be cool. But I regret it to this day. So quit? Oh, sure, because it's that easy to curb and it. I mean, how did I think of that idea myself?

It's genius. We laughed it off, and Amy seemed to dig my humor as far as I could tell. She was a bit awkward still, but she was nice overall. I could get used to that, to having her around more often, to be happy, you know. But the worries resurfaced, souring my mood. They reminded me that Sarah was still out there, that I couldn't let my guard down and rest until I took care of things. So I didn't waste any more time and went on the offensive.

So, about Sarah, Amy's smile died a fast, pathetic death, and she let out a long sigh. What about her? I wanted to discuss her to convince you. You can't convince me. Monsters aren't real. No, I have proof this time. Here, I said, and pulled out my phone. I fumbled with it for a few seconds, pulling up the recording.

Amy watched me with distrust and pity as if she was facing a madman. Look, I set up the phone to record audio and... There we go again. Amy let out a tired voice. More recordings. No, just listen to it, okay? I mumbled, skipping through it to the end. I set it up and Sarah turned it off while I was asleep.

I played it and Amy actually listened. She was surprised, but I could see that she wasn't convinced. If anything, that's only more proof that she has mental problems and No offense. I strongly suspect that you do too. Maybe it runs in your family. And if that's the case, you both need help. No, it's not that she stopped it.

That's not the point. I defended. The phone was faced down on the table. What reason would she have to suspect that I was recording? She either did because she's done it as well when she faced the mimic, or she is the mimic, and she learned it from her encounter with the real Sarah. Or she's crazy. Amy raised her voice.

She has the same delusions that you do. She's just as paranoid as you. She also deleted the text, the conversations I had with Marcus, the detective. I felt like I was on the brink of convincing her, of winning her over, that she only needed the slightest push in the right direction, and I'd have myself an ally. So... She started, but I interrupted her. And what about the body, the one we buried?

There wasn't a body. Amy said. I went completely silent at that. I was dumbfounded. You could have heard a pin drop if you were there. Our respective outbursts had garnered us the stairs of the other patrons, and I felt their eyes on me. What? I asked in a hushed voice as I looked around.

That's why I wanted to meet up with you and talk. A murder is a pretty heavy accusation to throw around, so after you ran off, I called 911. The words, possible murder, mobilized them real fast. Two officers were at my door in less than five minutes. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but I knew that I fucked up. Marcus explicitly asked me to keep an eye on Sarah, to keep her isolated, and I failed. The other patrons returned to their own business, but a couple of them at different tables still shot me glances every so often, those same, cold, calculated glances that Sarah

shot me, sending my paranoia into overdrive. Control yourself. I reminded myself. You've made a scene. People are bound to be curious. They're not mimics. They're just worried. Two cops recognized the house right away.

Amy kept talking, and I had to try very hard to focus on her words. They were the same ones that checked up on Sarah McCor when she's having her mental breakdown. So they thought that she finally went off the rails hard enough to kill someone. But I explained the situation to them. I brought up your accusations, and they assured me that something like that had never happened. No, no, no, that's wrong. I was there, there when the body was pulled out on a stretcher, there at the funeral, there for all of it.

She died. Someone died. I swear on my life. I was so fired up, so absorbed by my rant that I didn't notice myself getting up from the chair and leaning on the table. Amy pulled back from me with fear evident in her eyes, but to her credit, she composed herself fast. It's worse than I thought.

She answered. Clancy, you had a mental breakdown as well, okay? wasn't real. None of it was real. Some of the other patrons moved to get up as soon as she did, likely expecting a scuffle. Amy walked around the table slowly, lifting her hands up as if to say she wasn't a threat. Look, I know it's hard to hear. I know it's hard to come to terms with the fact that your own mind has been lying to you, but it's the truth. I'm not here to accuse you of anything. I'm not here to get you in trouble. I'm here to help, okay? Will you let me help you? I'm, I...

We don't need to call the cops or anything, just come back with me to Sarah's place. We'll talk it out. We'll give you space and let you calm down. We'll do this on your terms, okay? You'll be in control at all times, and when you feel ready, I'll help you look for professional help. My parents, dad, and mom, I tried a final tactic. Please, you have to believe me. Sarah is the mimic, and she murdered them.

Your parents are away on vacation, glancing. Amy rebuked me. To the Grand Canyon. No, that's a lie I told Sarah to keep her away from them. I answered, certain that I finally had her. I told her that they left their phones at home, and lo and behold, I find their phones at home. But they didn't go anywhere.

It was a lie. They've been planning this vacation for months. Even I've known about it. Sarah wouldn't shut up about them. She wanted to go too, but couldn't get the time off of work. No, no, no, no. This is wrong. This is all wrong.

He reached out for me, but I recoiled. It couldn't be. It was all wrong. It was. I swear, it was my own lie spat back at me as the truth. I felt trapped, suffocated, like the world itself shrunk around me and pinned me into place. It was all wrong. Amy took another step towards me, and I could see the other patrons getting on the move as well.

They'd catch me, they'd catch me and lock me up in the loony bin, or worse yet, they'd take me back to Sarah. I couldn't allow it, but in that moment I felt entirely powerless to stop it. Run, I thought. God fucking damn it, run. Without another word, I turned and bolted down the street. I ran faster than I ever ran in my entire life. My lungs were burning up and my feet were full of lead pulling me down, but I ran.

I couldn't stop, couldn't hesitate for even a moment, not when I felt like the entire world was chasing after me. Why? What did I do to deserve this? Any of this? I was paranoid, sure, but who wouldn't be in my situation? What I wasn't, though, was crazy. I was saying it was them messing with me, making me doubt my memories. More calls came as I ran home, but I didn't even bother to check the phone. I couldn't stop. When I finally arrived and locked myself inside, I saw they were all from Amy, predictably enough. She made about ten calls and sent a few texts as well. Please, Clancy, come back. I don't mean you any harm, I swear.

I just want to help you. Think about your parents. Think about Sarah. Hell, think about yourself. No, I told myself. I need to wait for Marcus. I need to last for just a little while longer. He'll be here any minute now, and he'll sort this shit out.

I looked out one of the windows to see if anyone had followed me, but they hadn't. Still, that didn't mean I could stay put until Marcus returned. I was too easy to find. I was a sitting duck. I need to either hide or get on the move. No place to tuck myself in came to mind, so I'd have to do the latter. I changed my clothes, dressing in some of Dad's old track suits and jackets. They were baggier and did a better job of concealing my face.

As I did that, I tried to decide where to go and what to do. I couldn't wander the streets aimlessly. I had to stay among people to blend in with the crowd and hopefully have a shot at calling out for help if I was found. But my town wasn't very big. We didn't have malls or busy districts. Some bar then, I decided. We had a few of those, and they were rarely empty.

So I left the house and headed for the farthest bar I could think of, hoping it would be the last place Sarah and Amy would check. I kept my head down on the way there, trying my damn hardest not to think. to attract attention. When I made it there, half an hour later, I let out a sigh of relief. I went in, found a table in the back of the room, and made myself comfortable. It was one of those sports bars, always displaying some game or another, I'm not sure. My mind was an entirely different place the whole time I was there. The waitress came over after a few minutes, but I didn't notice her until she cleared her throat to get my attention.

Oh! I jumped back. Sorry, sorry. I had a crappy day. I was distracted. That's okay. Will you have anything? Sure. Bring me a beer, please.

Any references? She asked. Whichever one you have doesn't really matter. And keep an open tab. I'm waiting for someone, so I'll be here a while. Okay. I'll be right back. She wandered off to serve the other patrons,

so I got busy with my phone. It finally hit me that it had. had no password, even though I distinctly remember setting one up. Another thing that Sarah did to mess with me, was my memory really failing? I decided it didn't matter at that moment, so I set a new one and texted Marcus. They're trying to get me. I'm on the run. Call me when you get in town and we'll meet up.

The waitress returned a few minutes later with a mug of beer. Then she was off again. I sipped from it occasionally, but my focus was on my phone. Watching seconds turn into minutes with bated breath. The finish line was within reach, and I couldn't wait for the terror and paranoia to be over. I was tired. More episodes of microsleep came and went, but no one seemed to notice more even care.

But they left me worried, as they caused my attention to falter. About an hour later, around lunch, Marcus finally texted back. Seeing the notification pop up on the screen got my heart pounding faster, chasing away the fatigue for the meantime. I'm almost there. We'll probably arrive near sundown. I felt relief washing over me as sundown wasn't far off. I only needed to last for four or five more hours at most, and I was confident enough that

I could do that. I didn't feel watched here, didn't feel observed, so it was safe. All I needed to do was to stay awake, to keep the beers coming, and I wouldn't be kicked out of the bar. So long as I sipped from them slow enough to not get drunk, I'd be fine. Amy tried to contact me again. More calls and texts spread out over the remainder of the day, but I didn't answer. They were mostly the same, variations of, where are you, and come back, Sarah's worried. Time flew by, and before I noticed it was getting dark outside. The sun touched the horizon, draping the world in shades of orange and red.

The phone rang again, and to my utter delight, it was Marcus. "'Buh, bring the tab, please?' I said to the waitress before I answered. "'Hey!' "'How's it going? How are you?' Marcus asked right away. "'Tired, and paranoid as hell, but I'll manage.'

"'Good, because I might need you to pull it all-nighter. Help me out.' The waitress brought me the tab, and I did a double-take at seeing the price. "'We'll do. We can't wait for this to be over with,' I answered, pulling out thirty bucks and handing them tour. Keep the change. What was that? Nothing. Don't worry about it.

I got up from the table and walked towards the exit, re-energized by the hope coursing through me. Where do you want to meet up? Pick a place, and I'll be right over. I'm entering your town now. Okay, let's... Wait a sec. A cop car just got on the road behind me. I think they want me to pull over. Damn, were you speeding? We don't have time for a ticket right now. I wasn't. It's... Marcus was caught.

off by a loud crash. It sounded like metal bending and glass-shattering, almost deafening even through the phone's speaker. The fuck? They rammed me. Shit, get away. I'm trying, but they're after me. They want to run me off the road. Another crash, this one even louder. Marcus cursed in the background and the sound of tires screaming on the asphalt followed. I don't know what's going on. I'll call you back.

No, wait! The call ended abruptly. leaving me stunned. What the hell was going on? I left the bar, lit up a cigarette, and paced back and forth in the street as stress consumed me. Marcus was so close. He was right fucking here.

He wouldn't fail. He couldn't fail. No, no, he'd get away, and he'd reach me, and it would be fine. Yeah, he'll be fine. He's a goddamn monster hunter. A couple more minutes passed with no sign from him. I finished the cigarette fast, but I lit up a little bit of a little bit of a little bit of a little bit of another one right away. I needed to distract myself, to keep calm, to not let the paranoia

sink in. It couldn't get its teeth into me again. I wouldn't allow it. I refreshed my messages constantly, waiting, feeling my breathing speeding up. The notification came, and with it, another text. Reading it felt like a gut punch. The floodgates broke, and the tide of terror I struggled to keep at bay flooded me. I felt lightheaded and dizzy, shaking on my feet. as if the world around me spun out of control. Four words. Four goddamn words and an incomplete text. Run.

There's more of... I tried to call Marcus a few more times after I received his last text, but just as I suspected, he didn't answer. He was either captured or killed, leaving me on my own. The call still went to voicemail, however, so his phone was still active. Whoever ran him off the road likely took it, and I could use that to my advantage. to buy some time. We'll do.

I'll leave town right away. I'll be walking along the main road in case you can follow me. Hopefully that was a convincing enough red herring, sending them on a wild goose chase that would give me an hour or two to sleep. I desperately needed some of that to clear my mind so I could think straight. Making any decisions, forming any plans in my current condition was a bad idea. I was aware of that much. Seeing that in the forefront of my mind, I made me.

my way home. Many people passed me in the streets, and I felt their eyes on me when I wasn't looking their way, but I remained calm, sort of. I reminded myself that it was paranoia, that I was slowly going mad from fatigue and stress, not that all of it was real, some of it, maybe, but certainly not all. I needed to remain rational to the best of my abilities. I got home without incident. No one followed me, and I found the house still leamping. and locked up like I'd left it. The current plan was to sleep a bit and then had out of town into the wilderness. I'd set up camp somewhere remote, far away from everyone and everything, and used that

time to rest. Dad had some bare-bones camping gear that he used to go fishing, so I could use that, although it wasn't much, it would have been useful. I found it all stacked away in the garage, so I threw together a hasty bug-out bag to have it ready. A small fishing tent, a flashlight, some matches and cans of food, but no weapons since we didn't have any. A firearm would have been really useful, but this will have to do, I thought, as I retrieved

the crowbar. I didn't plan to use it for hunting or anything, just to defend myself until I made it out of town. With the preparations complete, I barricaded my bedroom by dragging a heavy drawer in front of the door. The window I left unlocked just in case I needed to make a run for it. My room was on the first floor, so the jump down wouldn't be too bad. Being in an actual bed after the last few days was absolute bliss, and I can't describe it.

I fell asleep so fast that I almost didn't get to set an alarm to wake me up around midnight. It went by fast, however, and this time I finally had some dreams. Nightmares. I can't remember much of them, only bits and pieces, something crawling into bed next to me, Speaking in my mind, trying to undo the seams of my very soul so it could take a peek inside, getting angry when I resisted, growing more aggressive, tugging at the corners of my brain the more I fought back. I woke up screaming, kicking and punching blindly. My fist connected with something meaty, and I heard a familiar voice letting out a yelp.

What the hell? Opening my eyes, I found Dad on his ass next to the bed. His lip was split wide open, and Mom was by his side on her knees. I'm... I started, but the words got caught in my throat. That was a pretty intense nightmare you had there. Dad said with a smile. I think I'll need stitches.

Looking around the room, I saw that the dresser I had dragged in front of the door was back in its place. The door and the window were open, creating a draft that pulled the cold December air inside. The instinct just bolt right then and there kicked in, but... I subdued it. Where have you guys been? I asked them. I decided to question them because maybe, just maybe, the last few days were indeed a hallucination. To the Grand Canyon.

Mom answered and helped Dad to his feet. You know, on the vacation we planned for, what, two months now? Dad went to the bathroom to patch up his busted lip, leaving me and Mom alone. He looked back at me for a split second before he closed the door. His gaze filled with anger and hatred. Sarah's friend, uh, Amy was her name. Anyway, she called the reception of the hotel we were at and told us everything, so we rushed home to be here for you.

Okay, thank you guys. Let's go check on dad. Maybe he needs help. Mom eyed me with suspicion, but she got up. Mm-hmm. And don't forget to apologize to him. You clocked him pretty hard. She added.

do. Something skittered in the closet, attracting my attention. I looked over, seeing the darkness inside shifting between the slits of the sliding doors. A pitch black figure, the humanoid shape, peered back at me with dimly glowing eyes. Can we order pizza? I'm starving, I said, walking past mom to open the door for her. Sure thing. Maybe an ambulance for your father as well. He's the big guy. He'll manage. She walked past me and in the corridor, so I pushed her away and shut the door. The bag was next to the bed along with the crowbar, and I grabbed them before I jumped out of the window.

I landed outside in the grass with a heavy thud. Frantic footsteps came from inside the house. I burst into a sprint, jumping through the neighbor's yard and coming out on the next street over. The town had many roads leaving it. None of them close by, but I didn't plan to use them anyway. I ran through yards and jumped over fences, making a bee line to the closest edge of town. A forested area that I could use to my advantage, cars didn't fit it, and I'd be harder

to find among the trees. My phone rang again and again, but I didn't stop. I pulled it up and checked it between the hasty strides I took, finding it was Mom, of course, and it was only 10 p.m. or so, which meant I got a few hours of sleep less than I'd bargained for. It doesn't matter. I'll get all the sleep in the world once I'm safe. Something chased after me, slinking from one shadow to the next in the border.

blink of an eye. I heard the tip-tap of its claws on the rooftops behind me, but whenever I whipped my head back to check, I couldn't spot it. It's the one that wants to take my place, I concluded. That threw a wrench in my plan. If it would chase me into the wilderness, I couldn't get the rest I desperately needed, but then again, if I could lead it far enough away, I could take it on one-on-one. How strong could it be if it couldn't open a measly basement door? My mad dash got me to the town's edge in about ten minutes, and I could already see the forest from a few streets away. I jumped through the final yard in my way, with the mimic still on my tail, only to be met by a cop car swerving onto the street.

Its lights and sirens were off, and the front bumper was in utter ruins, barely hanging on. I ran across the road and slid down the steep embankment, coming to a stop on the muddy soil covered with decaying leaves. The cop car pulled up behind me, and its doors flew open. Stop, kid! One of the cops yelled. Come back with us. We're here to help.

For a brief moment, I regretted that Sarah never recorded the voices of the two officers that went down into her basement. I was certain that if she had, I would have recognized them right now. Leave me alone. I haven't done anything wrong. They came down after me as I entered the sea of trees. Something hit one of the trunks right as I ducked behind it, and I worried for a moment that it was a bullet. Whipping my head around, I found one of the officers to see. discarding a spent taser gun instead, which wasn't much better, to be honest, but at the very

least it would only incapacitate me. They ran after me for a few hundred feet, and I couldn't for the life of me shake them off. I tried veering away, hiding behind trees, doing everything in my power to break their line of sight. Nothing worked. They knew exactly where I was at all times. It felt like I was up against bloodhounds, not humans. Over the course of a few minutes, they gained on me.

I'm just an average Joe and average physical shape, and I tried to high hell and back to top it off. I couldn't outrun two trained officers. One of them got hold of my backpack and yanked me, throwing me to the ground. I landed face first into the mush of leaves and dirt. Calm down, kid. No, fuck, let go! I struggled and fought back, but the two of them subdued me. One got on top of me to hold me still, and the other pulled my hands behind my back to cuff me.

My urge to fight left me as I felt my body shutting down from over-exertion. The cold metal of the cuffs came around my wrist, chilling my skin in two thin strips, and they clicked into place. You can't arrest me. I haven't done anything. I'm innocent. I tried pleading. We're not arresting, you kid.

Your parents and sister called. They're worried for you. Said you were about to run away. So what? I'm an adult. I can disappear if I want. Not in your current condition. Right now, you need psychiatric help.

The cop answered. They pulled me to my feet and got by my sides, getting tight grips on my arms. We slowly walked back to the car as I tried to plead some more, and I had enough presence of mind to not mention anything about mimics. Even so, my cries landed on deaf ears. The thing, the mimic that chased me, was in the forest with us as well. It jumped from branch to branch, always within earshot, but never was. within sight. I wondered why they didn't just get it over with, why they didn't leave me there

to be consumed and replaced. I was incapacitated. I couldn't fight the creature. Or maybe they had other plans for me, something more nefarious. Maybe they needed to completely break me beforehand. I tried to think as they dragged me around to form a new plan, something, anything. When we reached the embankment, I got an idea. You see, it was steep and slippery. One wrong step and you'd eat dirt at the bottom, and that was something I could use. As we started climbing it, I prepared myself to act. When we reached halfway up, I headbutted one officer and tripped the other. They weren't expecting it, and just like I hoped they would, they slipped back down the slope.

But one of them got a hold of my backpack, ripping it open and spilling my supplies everywhere. I didn't fall with them, so I jumped up the last stretch and landed on the pavement on my stomach. to my feet with my hands behind my back was harder than I expected, but I heard the officers climbing again, so I needed to hurry. Screw this! As luck would have it, I'm pretty slim and flexible, so I decided to try a maneuver I've seen plenty of times in movies. I pulled my knees up into my chest, got my hands under my ass, and passed my feet between

them one at a time, which makes it sound very easy and simple, but under pressure with two officers nearing me, it really wasn't. I couldn't open or break the cuffs, but at the very least I had my hands in front of me again. Their car was right there, and I realized that the engine was idling. In their haste, they left it running with the keys still in the ignition. I ran over to it and tried the door, letting out a sigh of relief when it did indeed open. Hey! One of the officers yelled as I climbed inside.

Now, just because I don't have a license doesn't mean I don't know how to drive. It was stupid and risky of us, but a friend let me drive his jeep on the back. backroads a few times for fun. I wasn't an expert by any means, but I knew how to throw a car into drive and push a pedal. Good thing it wasn't a manual transmission. No way in hell I could have used a clutch and steer with my hands cuffed. I sped off, leaving the two cops and the mimic behind, which, yeah, bad idea, I know. It's bad enough to steal a normal car, but to steal a cop car, it's much worse. I'm not sure what the repercussions are, to be honest, I imagine it's not pretty.

Still, I could probably plead insanity in a court of law if it ever comes to that. Everyone around me insists I'm crazy anyways. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was to escape. I drove to the other side of town and rummaged through the car until thankfully I found another set of keys for the cuffs. With my hands free, I planned to drive the car out of town and abandon it. There's likely a tracker or GPS in it or something, but before I'd did, I wanted to do one final thing, to prove to myself that it was all real, that I wasn't

completely insane. I didn't have time to find Marcus Orr's body. I couldn't return to Sarah's house for fear of being caught, but there was one place that I could check. The cemetery. A few minutes later, I pulled up at the gates and went inside. It was very creepy at night, to put it mildly, a sea of headstones standing tall in the darkness. Still, compared to the last few days I've been through, this didn't really phase me.

I walked around for a few minutes in search of a particular headstone, the one we put on Sarah's grave. It was in the back of the cemetery right next to her mother's. My heart stopped when I reached it and found it blank. I fell to my knees in front of it and just started sobbing. You know, it would be so easy to cave in your head right now. Sarah's voice from behind. I shot up to my feet and spun on my heels, coming face to face with her.

She was alone, hands propped on the handle of a spade that she pushed into the soil in front of herself. If I really wanted to kill you or harm you, I could have done it while your back was turned. Is that proof enough that I don't want to do either? How did you know I'm here? I asked, taking a step away from her. Because I've been through the same thing, because I know how a broken mind thinks. You want proof, a sign. Something, anything to convince you of your own delusion. She threw the spade at my feet.

So go ahead. Dig. Find your proof. I won't stop you. But that grave is empty. No, it's not. The stone cutters didn't get around to marking the grave yet. You just want to keep me busy so the others can get here and catch me.

I should have just smacked you over the head with that, I swear. Tell you what, if you're so sure on the mimic, strike me down. I won't fight back. She fanned her arms out and even turned her back to me. I lifted the spade, but I couldn't go through with it. God fucking damn it! I yelled and threw the spade away. Why are you fucking with me?

Why not show your true colors? Why not kill me like you did Marcus? Sarah put her hands down and turned around. Marcus? She asked and seemed genuinely dumbfounded. Marcus, the monster hunter, stop toying with me. Your gaslighting won't work. Clancy, there was.

There's never any Marcus or any monster hunter. I pulled out my phone to prove her wrong, to shatter her charade. She watched me intently, but she didn't make any moves. I looked everywhere, call and text history, but I couldn't find Marcus's number. When that failed me, I pulled out my wallet to search for the business card. It was gone as well. At that point, I just gave up. What else could I do?

How could I prove to myself, let alone anyone else that I was. was sane. I wasn't. That much became evident even to me. Sure, I could blame the disappearance of Marcus's business card and call logs on my parents, but it didn't make sense. Nothing did. Not unless I admitted to the delusions and needing help. Amy had been right. The mental problems likely ran in our family, and Sarah's breakdown jump-started my own. I don't... Here, let me take you home. You can sleep, you can clear your mind, and we can both look for help starting tomorrow. How's that sound?

Sounds good. She took the lead, and I followed behind her towards the exit. It felt wrong. It felt so, so very wrong, but I didn't have it in me to fight anymore. I was drained. Even if I ran away, how far could I make it? I stole a damn cop car. They'd look for me relentlessly.

At that point, I just wanted everything. thing to be over with. The two officers called us when you stole their car. Sarah said as we walked. Ah, shit. No, listen. They called us and we talked. And they agreed not to report you on one condition.

We returned their car and you seek out therapy immediately. They're not assholes. They understand you've had it rough and they'll give you another chance. That seems very kind of them. I'll have to make it up to them when I get better. You do. Sarah agreed. And to us as well.

You really put us through hell. I know, and I'm sorry. Sarah smiled, a wide, beaming smile with no trace of anything except genuine happiness. Apology accepted. It's getting so bad, though. I still feel watched even now. I still hear the cracks in your voice, in everyone's voices. I hear the cracks in yours as well.

So welcome to the mimic club, I guess. Next target is old man Jenkins down the road. I have the whole plan ready. We'll make him believe reptilians are real. That's going to be tricky. I don't even know how to transform yet. All in due time. She assured me.

We'll teach you, young mimic. We left the cemetery, finding Amy and the two officers waiting outside. I apologized profusely while they laughed and assured me all was fine. They took their keys back and I left. We're going to my house. by the way. Dad drove himself and your mom over when you ran from their house. They thought maybe you'd come to my place. The rest of the ride was silent, and when we got there, I did indeed see Dad's car outside. The two of them waited in the living room for our return, and they jumped on me

as soon as I entered through the door. They hugged me and cried, and Mom bombarded my cheeks with kisses. Give them some room, you guys. And you, get some sleep right away. You'll feel much better in the morning. It felt so strange, so surreal, being back at Sarah's place, I mean. I wasn't gone for too long, but it felt like I'd ran away from here an eternity ago. My life had changed so drastically overnight. I'd been through so much in a matter of mere days. In all honesty, it was as fascinating to think about as it was terrifying. So that's what started it all. Dad said, with a wide smile, looking over at the basement door laying open. A goddamn basement of all things.

You know... He continued, turning to look at Sarah. You were always afraid of the dark as a kid. Was I? I don't really remember. I had to check inside your closet and under your bed for boogeyman every night until you turned ten. I guess it is pretty scary. Sarah mumbled and walked over to the door.

But there's nothing down there. Take a look. I made my way next to her, and she flipped the light switch next to the door. A light bulb down in the room came to life, chasing away the shadows and darkness. And indeed, it was a normal room with nothing strange about it, at least as far as basements go anyway. The walls and ceilings weren't charred, and there was no trace of soot. Even the concrete at the bottom was spotless.

To think, when we both went insane over a bit of darkness, I said as I peered down the stairs leading to the bottom. Right? But Sarah didn't answer me. No one did. The room fell completely silent, and I felt a pair of hands pushing me from behind. I tumbled down the stairs, landing at the bottom. The door to the basement closed shut.

I tried to get up, but stumbled, so I skittered up the stairs on all fours. The clicks of the locks being latched reached me right before the lights went out, and I crashed into the door. I trusted you! I yelled instead of banging on the door of desperation. I'm not insane. You're mimics. All of you. I knew it.

I kept banging on the door and pleading, but no one responded. Not a damn word. The bastards wouldn't even entertain me with a clear-cut answer. I yelled until my throat went raw. I punched and kicked the door until my hands and feet turned bloody, but I couldn't break free. They finally got me. Please. I let out in a raspy voice as I slid down the door to my knees.

Is anyone there? Sarah. A-ha! Opened the door. Nothing. I waited for hours, but I didn't hear anything from upstairs. Not a single peep. They just left me down here, unsure of what was real anymore.

I tried to sleep to get some rest at the very least, but I can't even do that. I'm alone in the room. I know as much for a fact, but I feel eyes on me whenever I lay down. This is it for me. The end of the line. I can't keep this up forever. I'm growing too tired and hungry. When I collapse, they'll get me, I'm sure of it.

I'll become just another one of those things, or it'll steal my appearance and masquerade as me while they take over the town. I can't escape. All I can do is warn you. Stay away from this place. And whatever you do, don't believe a word I say, because I might be one of them.