Chapter 35: The Promise He Broke

Ethan couldn’t breathe.

The room was spinning, the walls stretching and closing in at the same time. The shadows near the closet deepened, curling at the edges like ink bleeding into paper. The hand reaching through the gap trembled slightly, fingers flexing, waiting.

Tyler.

The name burned in Ethan’s chest, scraping against ribs that felt too tight, lungs that wouldn’t expand properly.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

But he couldn’t look away.

The hand moved again.

“Why did you leave me?”

The voice his brother’s voice was so soft, so broken, that Ethan felt something splinter inside him.

He staggered forward before he could stop himself, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

“I didn’t,” he rasped. “I”

But the words caught in his throat.

Because he had.

A memory surfaced, sharp and raw.

Ethan was eleven. Tyler was seven. The storm had knocked out the power, plunging their small house into darkness. Their father had already disappeared for the night, leaving them alone.

“Stay here, okay?” Ethan whispered, pressing his hands firmly onto Tyler’s small shoulders. “I’ll go find a flashlight. I’ll be right back.”

Tyler’s wide, frightened eyes flickered in the dim candlelight. “Promise?”

Ethan nodded. “Promise.”

Then he left.

He had only meant to be gone for a minute. Just long enough to grab the flashlight from their dad’s cluttered workshop.

But then the door had slammed shut behind him.

Then the whispering had started.

Then the footsteps.

And Ethan had run.

He hadn’t thought. He hadn’t stopped. He had run out of the house, his heart a hammer in his chest, his mind screaming go, go, go.

And when he had come back

When he had finally worked up the courage to return

Tyler was gone.

Ethan’s stomach twisted violently.

His body felt like it was folding in on itself, shrinking beneath the weight of the memory. He had never told anyone the truth. He had convinced himself it wasn’t his fault, that Tyler had wandered off, that it had been a terrible, random accident.

But deep down, he had always known.

He had run.

And Tyler had disappeared.

And now

Now he was standing right behind this door.

Ethan swallowed back the bile in his throat. His fingers twitched at his sides, curling into fists.

This wasn’t real.

It was the house, twisting his memories, dragging up things best left buried.

Tyler wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here.

But then the fingers curled slightly, pressing against the doorframe.

And a face emerged from the darkness.

Ethan’s body locked up.

Tyler was older now. Taller. No longer the seven-year-old Ethan remembered, but something else—something stretched between time, between past and present. His hair was still dark, his features still familiar, but his skin was too pale, his lips cracked, his eyes too deep, too hollow.

And those eyes

They knew.

“You left me,” Tyler whispered again.

Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs. “No,” he choked out. “I I tried to”

Tyler took a slow step forward.

“You left me in the dark.”

Ethan stumbled back. “I came back”

“But it was too late,” Tyler murmured.

The room blurred. Ethan’s head throbbed violently. He felt small again, like that terrified eleven-year-old boy trapped in the dark, hearing whispers in the walls.

He had run.

And Tyler had paid the price.

Something cold brushed against Ethan’s arm.

His breath snapped.

The shadows were touching him now, curling around his wrists, pressing against his skin like unseen hands trying to pull him under.

Ethan’s pulse spiked.

He had to move.

Had to leave.

Had to run.

But his body—

His body wouldn’t.

The darkness closed in.

And then

A voice.

Familiar. Steady.

“Ethan.”

The moment shattered.

The cold receded. The pressure on his chest lightened just enough for him to gasp in a sharp breath. The shadows thinned slightly, the air shifting, cracking through the illusion.

Elliot.

Elliot was standing in the doorway. His expression was unreadable, his presence heavy but real.

Ethan blinked rapidly, his head spinning. The room didn’t feel as thick anymore. His vision was clearing.

Tyler was

Gone.

The closet was empty.

The door stood open, revealing nothing but dust and darkness inside.

Ethan staggered, his knees nearly buckling. His hands shook.

His throat felt like sandpaper. “What” He swallowed hard. “What just”

“The house showed you,” Elliot said simply.

Ethan looked at him, his breath still ragged. His hands curled into fists. “That wasn’t real.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it?”

Ethan’s pulse thundered.

Because he wasn’t sure anymore.

Silence stretched between them.

Ethan turned back toward the empty closet. His vision blurred slightly at the edges.

He still felt it.

The whisper of something lingering. The ache of something unfinished.

His brother was gone.

But the house knew.

The house always knew.

Elliot shifted slightly, his expression unreadable. “You remember now, don’t you?”

Ethan exhaled shakily.

His head dipped in a slow, reluctant nod.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I remember.”

Elliot stepped back from the doorway, motioning for Ethan to follow.

“You’re not done yet,” he said quietly.

Ethan hesitated.

His entire body felt wrong. Off-balance. Like he had just walked out of a grave he didn’t know he had been buried in.

But he followed anyway.

Because Elliot was right.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.