No Surprises

Bad Ending - Main Bit

Chapter 82

Thom awoke to the smell of brewing coffee - a scent usually drenched with warmth and familiarity. Yet, on this morning, it washed over him like a cold fog. He shook off his unease, attributing it to the nerves of their coming tour, and stepped into the kitchen.

Ed sat there, his back to Thom, cradling a mug between his hands. Steam curled up toward the ceiling. Thom observed him, a precursor to the day's melody. He approached his beloved, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

In that instant, Ed turned, and Thom found himself caught in the icy glare of gray eyes - eyes that once cradled the hues of the deepest oceans. His heart lodged in his throat. These were not Ed's eyes, but the eyes of the man in the Radiohead t-shirt, the leader of the cult that had tormented Thom so long ago.

A shiver of fear trickled down his spine as he stumbled backward, his eyes never leaving Ed's. "What's wrong?" Ed's voice echoed in the tense air, carrying the same rhythm and tone as always, yet Thom knew the words were not truly his own.

Thom's warning was choked off as Rachel toddled into the room. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, looking confusedly between the two men. "What's... happening?" Her small voice trembled between them.

"Rachel, run!" Thom's voice was sharp, the terror in his voice cutting through the heavy silence. Yet, even as he spoke, Ed extended his hand, his gray eyes softening.

"Everything's fine, sweetheart," he coaxed, his voice as warm as the morning sun. "Come with me."

Rachel hesitated, her wide-eyed gaze flicking between the two men. Then, with a trembling sigh, she put her tiny hand in Ed's. Thom could only watch as Ed steered Rachel out of the house, the door closing behind them with a finality that echoed in his bones.

His little girl and his beloved were gone, led away by the monster who had shattered his world, now living in the shell of the man Thom loved. Empty silence filled the house, his heart echoing that void. Thom sank to the floor, his world tilting and crumbling around him.

Chapter 83

The journey Thom took to the abandoned concert hall was a long and silent one. His grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles white as pale ghosts, mirrored by the fear that gnawed at his insides. He parked his car in the deserted lot, the imposing silhouette of the decrepit building looming ominously in the distance. The dilapidated facade made his heart sink, but Thom braced himself and stepped out, his boots crunching on the gravel beneath.

Every step towards the deserted building felt like a lifetime to Thom. The wind whistled a mournful tune, and the cold bit into his skin. Inside, the concert hall was a labyrinth of ruin and decay. The once vibrant murals were now peeling off, revealing rotting plasterwork beneath. Even the air smelled of forgotten nostalgia, forcing a lump in Thom's throat as he tread softly, careful not to disturb the ghosts of a time he wished to obliterate from his memory.

Down the mazelike corridors he forged, battling the phantom echoes of fanatic adulation, his heart pounding against his chest like a frantic drummer. Thom felt a familiar tug of misguided emotion but pushed it aside hastily. This was not a place of safety and love, but a den of lies and manipulation.

His breathing hitched when he discerned Ed's voice from the depths of the building. But it wasn't the same voice that had whispered him to sleep, that had reassured him during his darkest times. This was the voice of a man long dead, twisted and full of malice, a voice that once led the cult and marred Thom's mind.

The cruel realization chilled him to the bone: Ed was being controlled, trapped within his own body by the vengeful spirit of the cult leader. A surge of fear threatened to paralyze him, but he fought against it, thinking of his beloved and his daughter. He would not let them down.