Lucas stepped back, his heel slipping as he leaned away from the abyss yawning before him. Before he could regain his balance, a violent crash exploded behind him as the door was forced open.
David and Daniel were already inside the room, their eyes sharp and unwavering, shining swords that tore through the darkness and red mist, gripped tightly in their hands as they glared at him like executioners.
"It's not too late to stop, Lucas," David said firmly. "You don't have to lose yourself because of revenge."
Lucas laughed weakly, the sound bitter and hollow. "I already lost myself a long time ago," he replied, turning his gaze back toward the corpse and the ritual circle.
"What difference does it make if I lose what's left now?"
He moved to the corpse as the two so-called security guards raised their swords at the same time, ready to strike him down, but before either blade could fall, the world froze.
Their bodies locked in place mid-motion, expressions twisted in shock as if time itself had refused to let them interfere.
The shadows surged. Dark tendrils burst from the abyss and wrapped around Lucas's body, dragging him despite his struggle.
Cold, wet, and suffocating, they pulled him into the open stomach of the corpse, and before he could scream, his body was swallowed whole.
He fell. The abyss had no bottom, no direction, only endless descent, as if he were being stripped layer by layer of everything he was.
Then, suddenly, the sensation stopped.
Lucas blinked and found himself standing in a place he knew too well.
"My… living room?" he muttered.
Before he could move, something slammed into his back. A smaller body collided with him roughly, nearly knocking him over.
"What are you doing standing in the middle of the room like that? You freak!"
Lucas widened his eyes when he saw Alan run in front of him.
His breath caught as he looked down at his hands. They were small. His arms were thinner, his body shorter, and the furniture around him felt massive, looming the way it used to.
"Am I back in the past?" he whispered. "Is this an illusion… or a test?"
Pain exploded at his scalp before he could think further. Someone grabbed his hair and yanked his head back violently. Lucas gasped and instinctively grabbed the wrist pulling him.
"You!" Adelyn snarled. "You broke the plate, didn't you?!"
Her eyes were bloodshot, filled with rage, and Lucas's body trembled as he noticed something else, something clinging to her back.
A grotesque, skinless infant-like creature was attached to her like a parasite, its red eyes locked onto him with pure hatred.
Dark, sinewy strings extended from its body, wrapping around Adelyn's arms and shoulders, moving as she moved.
She always complained that her back hurt. Now he understood why.
Her hand came down hard against his face.
SLAP.
The blow snapped his head to the side as she shook him violently, her grip merciless.
"You damned child!" she screamed. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?! You want my life to be miserable, don't you?!"
Her nails dug into his skin as she dragged him forward. "You're just like your mother," she spat. "A fucking monster!"
She pulled him toward the kitchen as Lucas struggled weakly, dread flooding his chest. He knew where she was taking him. He remembered this place too well.
She threw his small body into the narrow, dark room and reached for the whip hanging on the wall. Her shadow swallowed him as she stepped closer.
"Take off your clothes," she ordered coldly.
"No! It was I who broke the plate! It was Alan—"
Before he could finish, she struck him again, the sound sharp and echoing as she screamed in his face.
"Shut up! Shut up!" Her eyes burned with hatred. "You are that witch's son. Don't you dare talk back to me!"
Her hands tore at his clothes as he fought back desperately. He punched, kicked, and scratched, but it was useless. She was too strong. The parasitic baby on her back swelled larger, pulsing grotesquely as if feeding on her rage.
His clothes were ripped apart, fabric tearing as the whip came down again and again. The pain was real, raw, tearing through his skin until he could no longer hold back his cries.
His fingers dug into the wooden floor, nails splitting as the surface was already carved with old claw marks and soaked with dried blood.
Blood dripped from his mouth as he bit his lip hard enough to tear it. The rage boiling inside him was unbearable. He wanted to kill her.
When Adelyn was finally done venting her anger, she left him alone in the room. The air stank of rot and filth.
The only sounds were the snowstorm howling outside and the skittering of rats that had long since become his only companions.
A rat crawled over his foot. Lucas didn't flinch. He knew exactly when he had returned. And this time, he knew what to do.
"You'll help me," he whispered, a thin smile forming on his lips as he grabbed one of them. "You're hungry too, aren't you?"
The rat squealed in his grip.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Both of us are getting out of this place soon."
The door creaked open.
"Come out and help me with the food," Adelyn snapped.
Lucas nodded obediently, his eyes dull and empty. He followed her into the kitchen where a pot of soup bubbled on the stove, thick steam filling the room.
She tossed him a set of clothes. "Put that on. You look like a disgusting beggar. Clean yourself and help me cut the vegetables."
Lucas did as he was told, hiding something small from the kitchen inside the bundle of clothes she gave him. Instead of heading to the bathroom upstairs, he quietly moved toward Alan's room.
Music blared from inside. He could hear the sound of a game, Alan's annoyed curses spilling through the door.
He had everything. Consoles, a computer, and comics. Everything Adelyn denied Lucas had been handed to him without question.
Lucas opened the door.
Alan glanced over lazily. "Ew. You smell like rats. What are you doing in my room?"
Lucas didn't answer. He stepped closer instead. "You want to know why I smell like one?" he asked softly.
Alan raised an eyebrow, confused.
"Because they're my friends," Lucas said. "And tonight, you'll meet them too."
He pulled the knife from beneath the clothes.
"What the hell?! You psycho!" Alan jumped up from his beanbag, stumbling backward. "MO—"
Lucas kicked the door open.
Rats poured in.
They swarmed over Alan, crawling into his mouth as he screamed, biting down on his tongue until his cries turned into wet choking sounds.
Blood splattered across the walls as Lucas stepped forward, laughing quietly to himself.
"Tonight is going to be fun."
He raised the knife.
Now he understood why Asmodei had sent him back.
Because tonight, he was going to give that old hag and her precious son the most unforgettable dinner of their lives.