Five Nights | A Novella

Family Affairs (Part 2)

Mike slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. The familiar sight of his father's basement greeted him, but something was off. The room was transformed into a chaotic mess of bizarre experiments, each one more bewildering than the last. Broken vials littered the floor, emitting a pungent aroma that made Mike feel lightheaded. Before he could fully process what was happening, he heard heavy footsteps descending the basement stairs. His gaze locked with the man before him, and a wave of unease washed over him.

"I always knew I couldn't trust you," William stated coldly, closing in on Mike. Mike felt completely defenseless, his hands tied and the effects of the drugs still lingering. He knew his father had the power to end his life at any moment.

"Telling Carissa my exact plan," William continued, his voice dripping with anger. Each step he took closer sent shivers down Mike's spine. "I could kill you right now," he threatened, his face inches away from Mike's.

Fear and nervousness crept into Mike's voice as he questioned his father, "You were listening to us, weren't you?"

"Of course I was," William gloated, a sinister smirk on his face. "I had Twyla plant a listening device she acquired from the sheriff's department in Henry's office." He began to back away, reveling in his control over the situation.

Mike's sneer masked his own fear as he retorted, "Yeah, that's not the only thing you stole from that sheriff's department, is it?" His words referred to the stolen identity and murder of the true police officer, Ava Miller.

As William laughed to himself, his hand reached into his back pocket, retrieving a pocket knife. Mike's eyes fixated on the gleaming blade, his mind already anticipating the pain it would inflict.

William pressed the blade against Mike's neck, his voice filled with a chilling determination. "This will only hurt for a moment." Just as he was about to end his son's life, a voice pierced through the tense air from behind him.

"Dad, stop!" William turned around and saw Twyla standing there, a mix of sadness and terror etched on her face.

"But Twyla, you brought him here for me," William said, attempting to justify his actions, his voice softening.

"Yeah, not to kill him!" Twyla exclaimed, her voice filled with urgency. "He needs to help us," she added, her words barely a whisper.

"Twyla, sweetie, he won't. He's not like us," William replied, his frustration starting to seep into his voice. He motioned for Twyla to join him, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "Now, come over and help me with this. Just like old times." Twyla, feeling defenseless, reluctantly nodded and went to her father's side. William's whispered words of approval only fueled his twisted sense of control as he placed the knife back on Mike's throat.

Desperate to intervene, Mike muttered, "Twyla, please, don't listen to him-" before his father cut him off with a sharp command.

"Shut up, Michael!" William pushed the blade further into Mike's throat, causing blood to trickle down his neck. In that moment, Twyla's resolve wavered, and she seized the opportunity to snatch the knife from her father's hand.

"No, this isn't right," she paused, her voice filled with determination. "I will get him to help us, I promise." Twyla's words were a declaration of her own path, defying her father's expectations. William's sneer deepened as he locked eyes with his daughter. "And if you fail to convince him and jeopardize this entire plan," he hissed, pointing the blade at Twyla, "you'll be next." With a sudden movement, he swiftly walked past her, leaving the basement. Twyla and Mike were left alone in the suffocating silence, but it was only a matter of time before Mike shattered the stillness with his voice.

Angry and betrayed, Mike couldn't contain his rage any longer. "What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you have done this to me!" he shouted at his sister, his anger boiling over.

"I'm sorry, Mike, but tomorrow night can't be messed up. Carissa and Henry have to die, or else they'll try to kill dad. Carissa has already made that very clear," Twyla replied, her voice tinged with sorrow.

"Yeah, did you ever think that maybe that's a good idea? He's a murderer, Twyla, he deserves death!" Mike's voice cracked with emotion, his frustration and pain intertwining.

"Well then, what about me, Mike? Do I deserve death?" Twyla's words carried a sharp edge of defiance.

In that moment, a realization struck Mike. He remembered his father's cryptic words before he was about to kill him. "Just like old times." Doubt crept into his mind. He hesitated for a moment, then finally mustered the courage to confront Twyla. "You helped him, didn't you? With the murders?" His voice was filled with a mix of accusation and disbelief.

Twyla's silence spoke volumes as she nodded, unable to find the words to express her emotions. Mike, unable to bear the weight of the situation, turned his head away, fixating his gaze on the cold, unforgiving concrete floor. His eyes were drawn to the broken vials, where the purple liquid oozed out, emitting a repugnant odor that caused him to scrunch his nose. He couldn't help but ask, his hands restrained behind him, "Do you know what that substance is?"

"I know it all too well," Twyla muttered under her breath, her voice tainted with shame. Mike remained silent, his eyes locked on his sister. Gathering her courage, Twyla continued, her voice filled with regret. "It's called Remnant. It's a concoction of fused souls and melted animatronic exoskeletons. I created it." Twyla's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet her brother's eyes.

"How many lives were lost because of this, Twyla?" Mike's anger seeped into his question.

"I lost count," Twyla paused, a tear rolling down her cheek as she whispered her response. "A long time ago."

Curiosity got the better of Mike as he questioned further, "What does it do?" However, that question proved to be Twyla's breaking point. Ignoring Mike's inquiry, she abruptly left the basement, leaving him alone with his thoughts. As he stared at the shattered vial, terror etched across his face, he grappled with the decision of whether he truly wanted to know the sinister purpose behind Twyla's creation. Deep down, he knew it couldn't be anything good.

As Twyla ascended the stairs, she caught sight of her father retrieving something from a black, plastic bag. It was a large yellow rabbit head, a creation she hadn't laid eyes on in years. Memories flooded her mind of when he had first made it.

"Dad?" Twyla called out to her father in a hushed tone. His gaze remained fixed on the head, but he acknowledged her presence. "Yes, Twyla?"

Drawing closer, Twyla placed her hand on her father's shoulder and whispered, "Tomorrow, I will not fail you." He turned to face her, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I never doubted that you would." Their smiles held a chilling intensity, an understanding between them. Twyla's voice took on a darker tone as she continued, "I don't believe I can convince Mike, but we can keep him locked down there. Perhaps we can use him for experimentation?" Twyla's suggestion seemed to resonate with her father, his approval evident in his expression.

Shortly after, Twyla drifted off to sleep, a sense of contentment washing over her. Finally, she felt like she was earning her father's pride.

*

Carissa woke up, finding herself sprawled on the ground. She must have fallen asleep there after the intense confrontation with Twyla. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly stood up and glanced over at the home phone. The need to call Mike washed over her, knowing that being alone would be too dangerous. Reaching for the phone, she dialed his number, hoping for a response. But there was only silence on the other end, until Carissa began to hear faint whispers coming through the phone, sending shivers down her spine.

"Save us... free us... save us..." the haunting whispers persisted, growing louder with each repetition. Carissa's hands trembled as she involuntarily dropped the phone, unable to bear the eerie voices any longer.