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Chapter 7 - Chapter 6 “The Unwelcome Guest”

The strange things never stopped happening. The Walkers just started to ignore them, saying it was because the house was old, just the draft, faulty wiring, things like that. Angelo stopped bringing them up, and just ignored them. They weren't anything big to worry about.

Time passed.

One summer night, while everyone was sleeping, Angelo stirred awake. A sound had pulled him from sleep — something wet, crunching. It was close. Too close.

His eyes slowly opened, scanning the room without moving his body. His vision was blurry with sleep, but the sound was still there, heavy and deliberate.

He turned toward Alex's bed—and froze.

There was something. A tall figure, way too tall to be human. Its body was black, even in the dark room, darker than the dark itself. It hunched over Alex, its head nearly scraping the ceiling.

Angelo couldn't tell if this was a nightmare or reality.

The figure slowly turned its head toward him.

Its eyes glowed red, flickering like coal left too long in a dying fire. Two horns curled out of its skull like twisted branches. Its arms hung too long, fingers bending and stretching like liquid bone. The crunching sound—it was chewing something. That was what Angelo had heard.

Then came the smell. Metallic. Wet. Wrong.

It stepped closer. The floorboards didn't creak, but the air itself seemed to shift around its weight. It loomed over Angelo's bed, hunched low, those burning eyes boring into him, as if searching for something inside.

His heart thudded so violently it hurt. His chest trembled. He wasn't breathing. He wasn't blinking.

Then it grinned. Wide. Too wide. Like it had found exactly what it was looking for.

And then—darkness.

Not natural sleep. Not drifting. His eyes slammed shut, body shutting down as if a switch had been flipped.

Angelo jolted awake with sunlight leaking through the blinds.

Alex was already gone from his bed, probably downstairs. The tall figure was nowhere. No scent. No trace. Just sunlight and silence.

Angelo climbed out of bed cautiously, every step heavy with dread. The memory replayed: the grin, the eyes, the smell.

Was that a dream? He thought. No. It felt too real. What was that thing?

His hand hovered over the doorknob, heart still pounding. And then—

The door swung open. Alex stood there.

"Holy shit!" Angelo yelped, stumbling back.

Alex blinked, deadpan. "You just cussed. I'm telling Mom."

Panic flashed across Angelo's face. "Please, don't! I'm sorry, it won't happen again!"

Alex smirked. "Fine, I won't tell Mom."

Relief flooded Angelo's face. "Tha—"

"But," Alex cut in, "you have to give me your chocolate milk from the fridge."

Angelo's eye twitched. "No way. I've been saving that."

"Then I'll tell Mom."

Angelo's lips thinned as he thought fast. "Tell what?"

"You know what you said."

"Do you have proof?"

"You said 'shit.'"

Angelo gasped dramatically. "You just cussed! Should I tell Mom?"

Alex froze, realizing he'd been trapped. He sighed. "… Touché."

Angelo smirked. "Now, if either of us talks, both of us are in trouble. So we forget this ever happened."

Alex gave him a long look, then muttered, "If only you used that brain on your studies, you'd get better grades."

Angelo shrugged. "Haha, I try. But my brain doesn't work like that."

They went downstairs together. After Angelo freshened up, the family shared lunch. He almost forgot about the horned figure—almost.

It was a holiday. No classes, no work. Olivia had a big cookie order, so everyone pitched in to help. Even Emma toddled back and forth, carrying little cookies from Angelo to Olivia—sometimes with tiny bites taken out of them. The day passed in laughter and crumbs.

But night came again.

Angelo stirred awake.

The memory of the horned figure came rushing back, his chest tightening. He lay still, eyes open, listening.

Silence. Too deep. Too heavy.

Then—

Clink… Clink… Clink…

Chains, dragging softly across the wooden floor.

His head snapped toward the sound.

At the edge of his bed stood a girl—no older than six. She wore a white dress, faded and stained with dark, brittle patches. Her skin was pale as ash, lips silent, eyes too wide.

Iron shackles bound her wrists and ankles, thick and rusted. Even her neck bore one, a collar too heavy for her small frame.

She didn't speak. Didn't whimper.

She climbed onto the bed.

Slow. Deliberate. The mattress dipped beneath her tiny feet, the chains scraping across the sheets like nails on glass. The sound made Angelo's skin crawl.

She reached the foot of the bed.

Stopped.

Tilted her head. Stared at him.

Not curious. Not kind. Searching. Like she was trying to remember him.

The air pressed down on Angelo's chest. That same invisible weight as before. Wrong. Deeply, horribly wrong.

He panicked. Kicked the blanket off, flinching back—

And she was gone.

No sound. No fade. Just gone. As if she had never been there.

But she had. He knew it. And something about her felt unfinished. Like she wasn't done with him.

Then came the pain.

A sharp throb behind his eyes, swelling into a pounding headache. Angelo clutched his skull and groaned, body curling up. His vision blurred until exhaustion dragged him under.

Morning.

"Whoa," Alex's voice broke through the haze. "You woke up on your own? That's new."

Angelo sat up slowly, pressing his palm against his forehead. His head still pounded.

"What happened?" Alex asked. "Trying to skip school?"

"No," Angelo groaned. "I've got a nasty headache."

"Yeah, right. You think Mom's gonna fall for that?"

"These weird dreams," Angelo muttered. "They messed me up."

Olivia entered, arms crossed. "What are you boys doing? Hurry or you'll be late for class." She looked at Angelo. "Why are you still in bed?"

"Mom… my head. It feels like it's gonna explode."

Her face softened. "Okay. You stay here. I'll bring medicine. No school today."

Alex gawked. "She believed you?"

Angelo muttered, "It's because I'm not faking."

Alex sighed, grabbing his bag. "Then drink water. Might help."

As his brother left, Angelo lay back down, hand still pressed against his forehead.

The horned figure. The shackled girl.

Two nightmares. Too real to ignore.

What were they?

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