𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗪𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲

And Then There Were, Two⁰²

two, red

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

...

You and Jean had already finished a couple of drinks as you wandered around your house, still unable to find the picture.

You were extremely frustrated.

You and Jean regrouped, shuffling to the island empty-handed and sitting across from each other on stools. After a second of silence, you rubbed a hand down your face and gestured to the folder, "Well, maybe we'll have more luck with this."

Jean gave a sympathetic smile, his brows furrowing as he opened the folder and pulled out notes and documents. He sighed, "I forgot my laptop."

"Jean, you need to align your priorities," you huff, a slight smile playing on your lips. "You didn't have to bring the alcohol."

"Yes, I did," he states as he arranges the papers on your island. "Nothing would have gotten done otherwise."

"That's a lot of notes," you commented. If you turned your head to the side, you could see the stairs. But the higher the step, the darker it got, until you couldn't see past the cloud of shadows hovering at the top of your stairs. You refrained from looking, knowing you wouldn't be able to see anything anyway.

"Yeah," Jean said sheepishly.

"We need to condense this. It's too wordy. For a presentation, it should be concise," you state. "I need my highlighters."

"Okay... where are your highlighters?" he asks, still looking over everything, trying to see what doesn't need to be said.

"Uh, in my room," you said. Neither of you had looked upstairs because you insisted it wouldn't be in your room or anything.

"Alright," he replies, glancing up at you.

This time, you turned to look up your stairs, leaning back a bit to get a better view. Your eyes searched as if waiting for something to pop out of the darkness. You didn't feel anything. You were scared, but it didn't feel like someone was up there.

You hoped that your intuition, or whatever it was, wasn't failing you now.

"I'll be right back," you mutter, unaware of Jean's strange gaze.

When you stood up, you considered bringing a knife with you. However, you realized that whoever was in charge of your fate had failed to write the part where you had a weapon for your protection. As you reached the beginning of the stairs, you grabbed the railing and looked up at the creatures who may have been watching.

Even if someone wasn't in your house, you were still fully convinced that there were demons or something else lurking about.

As you walked up the stairs, the higher you went, the more you could see. It was like a horror game where you couldn't see anything until you were right on top of it.

Your eyes immediately found your room, then you looked further down the hall where other rooms resided: your art room, your guest room, and finally, up at the built-in square on your ceiling.

Your attic.

You shook your head and quickly opened the door to your room, searching for your highlighters.

As you shuffled to your nightstand, your toe stubbed against something. You paused, dreading the contact, reluctant to look and see what it was—

But that didn't prevent you from instinctively looking down and noticing something poking out from under your bed.