He laughs. Stella snorts. I let out a long sigh. The house is very quiet now, Oliver is still asleep, Jason is settled, and Stella, she is perched on the couch scrolling on her phone. For the first time in hours, I think I can breathe. The tension still lingers-the ticking clock of my parents' return, the secret living in my own home.
Tomorrow... tomorrow is going to be a nightmare in the daytime, I know. But tonight, we survive. And sometimes, that's enough.
As I climb the stairs to my room, I glance back at the guest room where Jason sits, shadows and soft lamplight painting his face. My heart flutters-and tightens-at the thought of all the questions still unanswered.
For now, though... we wait.
I barely sleep. Every little sound feels amplified. The ticking clock. The hum of the air conditioner. The faint creak of the hallway floorboards. My brain refuses to the fuck shut up.
Jason is in my guest room. My parents are coming home tomorrow. And Stella is snoring on my bedroom floor like this is a sleepover instead of a full-blown crisis.
At exactly 6:12 a.m., my phone vibrates.
Mom: Landing earlier than expected. See you in a few hours ❤️
I bolt upright. "No. No, no, no-"
Stella groans from the floor.
"If that's not coffee, don't speak."
"They're landing early." That wakes her up. Her eyes snap open.
"How early?"
"'A few hours' early."
She sits up slowly. "Define few."
"Define panic." Before she can respond, I hear it. A door creaks he open down the hall. Jason. Of course, he picked the right time to show up. A second later, there's a soft knock at my door. I open it just enough to glare at him.
"What?"
"You're pacing," he says calmly. "I can hear it from the guest room."
"They're coming early." He doesn't flinch. Doesn't panic. Doesn't spiral. He just nods once.
"Okay."
"Okay?" I whisper-yell. "Okay?!"
"Yes. We adjust."
I stare at him.
"Do you ever stress?"
"Efficient people don't waste energy panicking."
"Oh, I'm so glad you're efficient while my life is ending."
Stella appears behind me, hair a mess, but eyes sharp.
"What's the new timeline?"
"Three hours. Maybe less." Jason runs a hand through his hair, thinking. Not joking. Not teasing. Actually thinking.
Then-
"I won't stay in the guest room." My stomach drops.
"Excuse me?"
"It's the first place they'll check if they're suspicious. It's too obvious."
Stella folds her arms.
"He has a point."
"Whose side are you on?!"
"Logic's," she replies.
Jason looks around the hallway, analyzing the house like it's a chessboard. "The attic," he says finally.
I blink. "The attic is dusty and full of old boxes."
"Exactly."
"You want to live in my attic?"
"For a few hours? Yes." I stare at him. He stares back. Calm. Steady. Completely serious. This boy is insane. And annoyingly smart. We move fast.
Stella distracts Oliver downstairs with cartoons and cereal while I help Jason gather his things. He carries the small bag we packed last night like this is just another casual morning.
"Are you even slightly worried?" I ask quietly as we reach the attic ladder. He looks at me. And for a second - just a second - that calm mask shifts.
"I don't want you in trouble," he says.
My heart does something weird. Annoying. Unhelpful. Dangerous.
Not now heart, we are in a do-or-die situation.
"Well," I swallow, "then try not to get caught." He almost smiles.
"Always the plan." He climbs up into the attic, and I follow halfway to help him settle. Dust particles float in the thin beam of light from the small window. It smells like old books and forgotten summers.
"Text me if you hear anything," I whisper.
"I will."
"And Jason?"
"Hmm?"
"If this goes wrong..."
"It won't."
"You don't know that." He looks at me again. And this time his voice drops slightly.
"I trust you." Why does that feel heavier than it should? I climb down before I can overthink it. Two hours later, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway makes my entire body freeze. Oh shit!
Stella squeezes my hand. "Just breathe."
Oliver runs toward the door excitedly. "Mommy! Daddy!"
And just like that- The storm arrives.I open the door with what I hope is a normal smile. My parents step inside, looking travel-tired but happy.
Mom hugs me first. "You look exhausted."
"Stayed up late studying," I lie smoothly. Dad scans the house casually. Too casually.
"You kept everything tidy," he says.
"I always do."
Stella waves cheerfully from the couch. "Hi, Uncle! Hi, Auntie!"
Mom smiles. "Stella! I didn't know you were staying over."
"Surprise study session," Stella replies effortlessly. She deserves an award maybe that party, definitely that. Dad sets his suitcase down. Then pauses. My heart stops. He looks up. At the ceiling. Specifically... At the attic hatch.
No. No no no.
"Did we leave something up there?" he murmurs. My lungs forget how to function. Stella shifts beside me.
Oliver keeps talking about cartoons, completely unaware.
Dad steps toward the hallway. Each footstep sounds like a countdown. Jason is up there. Alone. Trapped. Dad reaches for the attic ladder string. I move before I think.
"Wait!" All eyes turn to me.
Think.
Think.
Think.
"Mom said there were rats up there last month. Remember? The scratching noise? I didn't want Oliver near it."
Mom frowns. "Rats?" Dad hesitates.
"There was scratching," she admits slowly.
Stella jumps in. "Yeah! I heard it too. Super creepy." I nod way too fast.
"Exactly. Probably nothing but... still." Dad lowers his hand slightly. The silence is suffocating. Then- A faint sound. Above us. A small thud. My blood runs cold.
Dad looks up again. And this time- He pulls the string. The attic ladder begins to unfold. And I realize- Tonight we thought we'd survive. Tomorrow? Tomorrow might destroy everything.
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