The Whistler In The Night

Chapter 7

We entered the hotel lobby, the fluorescent lights casting an eerie glow over the marble floors. My nerves were frayed, and every step felt heavier than the last. I tried to stay calm, but my body wouldn't stop shaking. Scarlet noticed and tightened her grip on my arm as we approached the receptionist.

"Can we get a room for the night?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

The receptionist, a tired-looking woman in her mid-thirties, gave us a keycard without asking too many questions. "Room 1754, third floor," she said, her eyes barely flickering with curiosity. I tapped my phone for Apple Pay, and after a few seconds, we headed toward the elevator.

When we reached the room, I immediately collapsed onto the couch, my body still trembling from the weight of everything that had happened. Scarlet sat down next to me and pulled me into a hug, her warmth grounding me for a moment. I felt her soft lips against mine as we kissed, the tension slowly melting away. There was something soothing about the way she touched me—something that made the chaos in my mind quiet down, even if just for a little while.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered against my lips. "We'll figure this out. Just trust me."

I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kayla's face, her eyes white and bloodied, and the man—the man from my nightmares—hovering just on the edge of my thoughts.

"What if that wasn't my sister last night?" I said, my voice barely audible. "What if she's... possessed? Or worse?"

Scarlet stroked my hair softly. "There's only one way to know for sure," she said, her voice steady but determined. "We have to search her room. I'll help you."

I nodded, grateful she was willing to stand by me through all of this. But I still felt so lost. We lay on the bed, her head resting on my chest, her arms wrapped around me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax, even though the storm inside me hadn't gone anywhere. Eventually, sleep claimed us both.

The next morning, I woke up to the soft warmth of Scarlet's face just inches from mine. Her eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile spread across her face. Without saying a word, I kissed her. Her lips were as soft as they'd been the night before, and for a few blissful moments, the rest of the world ceased to exist. We kept kissing for what felt like an eternity, just the two of us in our own little bubble. But reality soon crashed back in.

"We should go," Scarlet said, pulling away reluctantly. "We need to get to your house and search Kayla's room."

I nodded, my stomach knotting up at the thought of what we might find. We got dressed, headed downstairs, and handed the key back to the receptionist. She barely looked up from her computer, which was fine by me. I wasn't in the mood for small talk.

Outside, the morning air was crisp, the sky a dull gray. I glanced at my phone and nearly dropped it when I saw nine missed calls from my mom.

"Shit," I muttered. "Mom's been calling. She's going to flip."

Scarlet looked at me with concern. "Let's just get to your house. We'll figure it out."

When we finally arrived at the house, my mom was waiting for us in the living room. She stood there with her arms crossed, a mixture of worry and frustration written all over her face.

"Where were you last night?" she demanded, her eyes darting from me to Scarlet.

I hesitated, trying to come up with something that wouldn't send her into a full-blown panic. But before I could open my mouth, Scarlet stepped in.

"He was with me," she said smoothly. "We were studying late into the night, and I told him it would be better if he just stayed over. Sorry for not calling, Mrs. Hale."

My mom's expression softened slightly. "Okay, but I was worried. I thought something had happened to you, Evan. Especially after Kayla told me you never came back to the house."

The blood drained from my face. "Wait... what?"

My mom nodded, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, she said you didn't come home last night. She seemed upset about it."

I exchanged a look with Scarlet, my mind racing. Why would Kayla say that? She had seen me in the house. She had attacked me. Did she not remember? Or was this part of something bigger—something darker?

"Yeah, sorry about that," I said quickly, trying to cover my shock. "It was just a late night. I'll be better about letting you know next time."

Mom looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to gauge whether I was telling the truth. Finally, she sighed. "Alright. But next time, call. I don't care how late it is. I need to know you're safe."

"Will do," I muttered, my thoughts already spinning in a million different directions.

As soon as my mom left the room, Scarlet turned to me, her face pale. "Evan, this is getting weirder by the minute."

"No kidding," I said, rubbing my temples. "What the hell is going on with her?"

"We have to search her room," Scarlet insisted, her voice hushed but urgent. "We need answers."

With a deep breath, I nodded. "Yeah. Let's do it."

We made our way upstairs as quietly as we could, the house feeling eerily still. When we reached Kayla's room, I hesitated for a moment before slowly turning the doorknob. The room was almost exactly how it had been the night before—except now, Kayla wasn't there. The scent of blueberries lingered faintly in the air, and everything looked perfectly normal. Too normal.

Scarlet began to methodically search through her drawers while I checked the closet and under the bed. Everything seemed mundane—clothes, school supplies, the usual stuff. But then I saw it. A small, black leather-bound notebook, half-hidden under a pile of sweaters in her dresser.

"Scarlet, look at this," I whispered, holding it up.

She came over, her eyes widening as I flipped through the pages. Most of the writing was illegible—scribbled lines and strange symbols that looked like they belonged in some ancient ritual book. But one page stood out. Written in neat, precise handwriting were the words: He's here. He's always watching.

I stared at the page, my heart pounding in my chest. Who was "he"? Was it the man from my nightmares? The man who seemed to be everywhere?

Before I could say anything, we heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.