The room was too quiet.
Kiel's breathing was slow and steady from the floor beside the bed. Deep asleep. Peaceful.
Ita lay stiff under the blanket, eyes barely open, staring at the ceiling.
He could still feel it.
That presence.
Heavy.
Patient.
The closet door creaked again.
This time, it didn't try to be quiet.
The sound dragged slowly through the room.
Kiel didn't stir.
Ita couldn't move.
The darkness inside the closet thickened .not just shadow, but something denser. It spilled outward like smoke sinking instead of rising, pooling across the carpet in slow, deliberate waves.
Then it began to take shape.
First the fingers.
Long.
Too long.
They stretched out from the dark, joints bending in too many places, knuckles cracked and swollen like they had been broken over and over again. The nails were black and split down the middle, peeling back to reveal raw flesh underneath.
Then the arm.
Thin as bone wrapped in wet paper.
Skin clung loosely, sliding slightly as it moved, like it wasn't fully attached.
The rest of it unfolded from the closet like a spider uncoiling from a hole.
The stair boy.
But not as he had seen before.
Now its smile was wider.
Wider than its face should allow.
The corners of its mouth had split all the way to its ears, exposing gums that looked chewed and torn. Its teeth were thin and needle like, layered in rows behind rows like something built for tearing.
Its eyes were still empty.
But inside the hollows, something moved.
Like worms twisting in a deep well.
It tilted its head.
The neck bent slowly.
Too far.
Bone pressing against skin.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
It began crawling toward the bed.
Not walking.
Crawling.
Its limbs bent backward, elbows scraping against the floor, knees folding the wrong way. Its torso dragged low, ribs visible beneath stretched skin. Each movement made a wet sound like fabric being pulled from mud.
Ita's lungs forgot how to work.
Kiel shifted slightly in his sleep.
But didn't wake.
The ghost reached the side of the bed.
It paused.
Smiling.
Then it rose.
Not by standing.
But by unfolding upward, spine extending joint by joint until its face hovered inches above Ita's.
The air turned cold enough to burn.
"we want to open you.." it whispered.
Its voice was layered . not one sound, but many speaking at once. High and low. Young and old.
Ita tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
A hand shot forward.
Fingers wrapped around his throat.
Ice-cold.
Sharp.
It squeezed.
Not hard enough to crush.
Just enough to control.
"we want to see inside.." it murmured, nose brushing against his cheek.
Its breath smelled like rot and rust.
"but we cant..."
Its smile twitched.
"Not yet."
The fingers tightened slightly.
Pain shot through Ita's neck.
Kiel slept on.
Unaware.
The ghost leaned closer.
Its tongue slid out slowly.
Long.
Dark.
Split at the tip.
It dragged across Ita's cheek, leaving behind a cold, slick trail that burned against his skin.
"your smell.." it whispered.
It inhaled deeply, as if savoring him.
"delicious.."
Its teeth clicked softly together.
"i want to eat..all inside you."
Ita's vision blurred.
Tears slid silently down the sides of his face.
The ghost's other hand pressed flat against his chest.
Its fingers sank slightly into his shirt.
Not piercing.
Just pressing.
Testing.
The skin beneath its palm tingled violently, like something was trying to push through from the inside.
It leaned down until its forehead touched his.
"you are open.." it breathed.
"you just dont know..how wide.."
The pressure on his throat suddenly eased.
The ghost smiled again.
Slower this time.
Satisfied.
"Soon." it said softly.
Then its body began to melt.
Not fade.
Melt.
Like wax left under heat.
Its jaw sagged first, dripping downward in thick, dark strands. Its fingers loosened and slid apart, dissolving into black liquid that splashed silently onto the blanket before soaking straight through and disappearing.
Its eyes collapsed inward, the hollow sockets folding like wet paper.
Its entire body sank downward, pooling over Ita's chest and stomach in a heavy, suffocating wave of shadow.
For a split second.
It felt like drowning.
Then the liquid seeped into him.
Through him.
Gone.
The room returned to normal.
The closet door stood slightly open.
Still.
Kiel snored softly.
Ita lay there gasping silently, hands flying to his throat.
No marks.
No bruises.
But the skin still burned.
His cheek felt wet.
He slowly lifted trembling fingers to touch it.
Dry.
Nothing there.
He turned his head slowly toward Kiel.
Kiel slept peacefully.
Unaffected.
Unaware.
Ita stared at the ceiling again, heart hammering violently.
The ghost hadn't attacked to kill him.
It had waited.
Tasted.
Promised.
Not yet.
And somehow,
That was worse.