Chapter 3

Tilly's POV

"Unlock the door! Whit! Open the damn door!"

I threw myself at the car in the alley, slamming my muddy, bloody hands against the window.

The lock clicked open, and I tumbled into the passenger seat sideways. Before I could even pull the door shut, Whit grabbed my arm.

"What the hell are you yelling for? What if someone hears you!" His face was ashen, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. "Is the basement... is it cleaned out?"

"Drive! Goddammit, step on the gas!" I dug my nails into his wrist, screaming hysterically. "She's still in there! It's been twenty years, and that freak Della is still alive—she just called my name!"

Whit flinched violently, stark terror flooding his eyes. He didn't question me for a second. He slammed his foot on the gas and tore out of the dead-silent street.

Two hours later, the car screeched to a halt in front of our glamorous Aldermere mansion.

Whit and I stumbled through the front doors like marionettes whose strings had been cut. In the living room, my father Hollis and mother Corinne were perched on the edge of the sofa, staring anxiously at the entrance.

"Thank God you're back." My mother shot up, clutching a silk handkerchief. "Well? Are the bones bagged? Is every trace of that demon wiped clean?"

"She's not dead... Mom, Dad, she's not dead!" I collapsed onto the carpet, tears washing away the dirt on my face. "She's still down there! I heard it—twenty years, and she's still seven-year-old Della! She was banging on the door, telling me to let her out!"

"That's impossible!" my father roared, his usually polished and hypocritical face twisting hideously. "Twenty years! That little bitch couldn't have survived without food or water! And she definitely wouldn't still look seven!"

"It's true!" Whit suddenly grabbed his head, his voice a hoarse scream. "Fuck, that house is haunted! It's payback for leaving her behind... that little bastard turned into a vengeful ghost!"

"Shut up! There are no such things as ghosts!" My mother covered her ears frantically, but her shaking legs betrayed her. "She started it! She was a monster! We only did it to survive... God knows we had no choice!"

Amidst the suffocating tension, my phone buzzed like a death knell.

It was Auden.

Taking a deep breath, I swiped the screen with a trembling finger, forcing my voice to sound sweet. "Darling, why are you still up so late?"

"Tilly, about going to Coldbrook next week... I just talked it over with my family." Auden's gentle voice came through the speaker, but to me, it felt like an ice pick sawing at my nerves. "Guess what? My parents think it's a wonderful idea. They’ve decided to come with us."

My brain exploded in a white-hot buzz.

"Oh... honey, that's such a wonderful surprise." I felt like my throat was bleeding as I forced out the lie. "We'll see you next week then. Say hi to them for me."

The moment I hung up, the phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor.

"Did you hear that?" I looked at my parents in absolute despair. "Next week, Auden's entire family will step inside that old house. We are dead."

The living room fell into a dead silence for a full minute.

"Absolutely not." My father suddenly stood up straight, the desperate, lethal look of a cornered animal settling in his eyes. He marched into the storage room and walked out with a heavy metal crowbar.

"We are not letting that vicious bitch ruin your marriage!" He gripped the crowbar, turning to my mother with an icy glare. "This is about our family's survival in Aldermere."

My mother didn't argue. She walked silently into the garage and retrieved two thick, black body bags.

"You two stay here. We'll have everything handled before sunrise." Leaving those cold words behind, my father grabbed my mother, and they vanished into the night.

The front doors shut firmly. Only Whit and I were left, shivering in the living room.

I fled upstairs to my master bedroom, throwing myself onto the plush bed. Exhausted beyond my limits, my body finally gave out, and I plummeted into a deep sleep.

"Tilly! Wake up... Tilly!"

A violent shaking dragged me out of my restless sleep.

I snapped my eyes open—it was already morning.

My father stood by my bed, covered in mud. His expensive coat was torn, his hair was a mess, and his bloodshot eyes were wide with a terror that bordered on full-blown madness.

My mother was slumped in the doorway, sobbing blankly. Whit stood beside her, looking like a corpse, completely mute.

"Dad? Is it done? What was in there?!" I sat up, desperately grabbing his sleeve.

"You... you were telling the truth." My father stared at me, tears spilling uncontrollably down his face. "Inside the basement... it really was seven-year-old Della!"

The room spun. My blood froze solid.

"And..." my mother let out an agonized, piercing cry from the doorway, pointing a shaking finger downstairs. "That monster said... because we didn't take her with us back then... she’s coming to Aldermere with us now..."

My father's voice trembled violently:

"She came back with us. Right now, that seven-year-old demon is sitting on our living room sofa!"