Max stared at his phone, the message blurring in front of his eyes: *"Stop looking for her."* The weight of it settled in his chest, a cold dread crawling up his spine. The room felt like it was closing in on him—silent, thick with an unseen presence. His mind raced, but he couldn't make sense of anything. *Who was sending these? Why?*Then, a sound.*Knock... knock... knock.*Three sharp knocks from the front door. Max's blood froze. He hadn't heard anyone approach. His instincts screamed at him to ignore it, to run. But he was rooted to the spot, his heart hammering in his chest, hands slick with sweat. Slowly, his gaze shifted toward the door.The knock came again, louder, more insistent this time.Max reached for the gun tucked at his side, fingers brushing the cold metal. The world around him felt unreal, like a nightmare where time bent and twisted. His mind spun in fragments—Yara's voice on the phone, the blood on her jacket, the shadowy figure in the video. And now... this.Swallowing hard, Max moved toward the door, his legs feeling like lead. Each step seemed to echo through the house. The shadows in the hallway deepened, stretching unnaturally, distorting his surroundings. He felt watched, exposed.His hand shook as he reached for the doorknob. He turned it slowly, painfully, every instinct screaming at him to stop.The door creaked open.But the street outside was empty.Max's pulse quickened. The quiet, deserted street bathed in dim moonlight. No one was there. Just darkness and the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. His eyes scanned the shadows, searching for any movement, any sign of someone—or something. But it was as if the world had fallen silent, holding its breath.Then, from deep within the house, a noise—a faint, metallic scrape, like a knife being dragged against stone.Max whipped around, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound came from the basement, low and persistent, cutting through the heavy silence. His muscles tensed, every sense on high alert. His fingers tightened around the gun.As he moved toward the basement door, the air grew colder, thick with tension. He pressed his ear to the wood, listening, but all he heard was the sound of his own shallow breathing.Without thinking, he yanked the door open.The darkness below felt alive, thick and suffocating. The scraping had stopped. He took a step down, the wooden stairs creaking under his weight. Sweat trickled down his neck. His breath caught in his throat as he descended deeper into the basement, into the unknown.The shadows seemed to swallow him whole.At the bottom, the dim light flickered. And there, on the floor, something caught his eye.A bloodstained note.Max crouched down, his heart hammering as he reached for it. The paper was rough, crumpled, the words hastily scrawled in dark red ink.*"She's closer than you think."*Max's pulse raced, his mind scrambling for answers. What the hell did that mean? He spun around, eyes darting across the room, searching for any clue, any sign that Yara had been here.And then, from somewhere upstairs, a door slammed shut.Max bolted up the stairs, his movements frantic. He reached the top just as a cold gust of wind whipped through the hallway. The front door was wide open, but he hadn't heard it move.His phone buzzed.With shaky hands, Max pulled it out, his heart skipping a beat as he saw a new message.*"You'll never find her. Stop trying. Or you'll end up like her."*Max's blood ran cold.From somewhere inside the house, a soft laugh echoed—a woman's voice, familiar but distorted, carrying an eerie edge. His stomach twisted as he recognized it.*Yara.*But it wasn't her. It couldn't be.Max's legs moved on their own, his body trembling as he followed the sound through the winding halls. The laugh grew softer, teasing, like it was just out of reach, pulling him deeper into the house, down unfamiliar paths. The shadows around him grew darker, more suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in.Finally, he reached the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, a thin line of light spilling into the hallway. The laugh stopped, replaced by an unsettling silence.Max hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He wasn't sure he wanted to open it. Something in his gut told him whatever was behind that door would change everything.But he had no choice.He pushed the door open, gun drawn.The room was empty.Completely untouched, just like he had left it. But on the bed, lying neatly on top of the bloodstained sheets, was Yara's phone. The screen was cracked, the light flickering as if it had been tampered with. Max approached slowly, his heart in his throat. He reached for it, picking it up carefully, as if it might shatter at any moment.There was a single message displayed on the screen.*"Check the basement again."*Max's stomach dropped. His heart thudded in his chest, cold fear seeping into his bones. But before he could react, the room plunged into darkness. The lights flickered and went out completely.Max stood still, gun in hand, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The only sound was the faint creak of footsteps—someone walking toward him from the hallway.A shadow loomed in the doorway.The figure was indistinct, barely visible, but Max could feel its presence—cold, heavy, oppressive. His grip tightened on the gun, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak. The figure stepped closer, the sound of its footsteps growing louder, more deliberate.Then, just as the tension reached a breaking point, the figure stopped.It whispered in a voice that chilled Max to his core.*"You've already lost her."*Before Max could react, the door slammed shut, plunging him into absolute silence.He was alone.Or was he?
