A Life Is Loading

The room was suffocating in silence.

Clay's heart pounded as he stared at the door, his hands gripping the chair leg like a weapon. The candle had gone out, leaving only the pale moonlight filtering through the cracks in the window. The air had turned cold—unnaturally cold.

And then, that voice came again.

"Daddy… please help me. Otherwise, the man will take my life."

It was Ben's voice. Clear. Desperate. Too real.

Clay clenched his jaw, his mind screaming at him—this isn't real, this is a trap!

But before he could react, Emily let out a strangled sob. She stood up, her whole body trembling.

"Clay... that's Ben!" she cried, her voice cracking.

Clay grabbed her wrist. "No! Don't open the door! It's not him!" His grip tightened as he pulled her back.

But Emily shook her head violently. Her mother's heart was breaking. "You heard him, Clay! He's begging for help! What if—what if he's really there?"

Clay's mind raced. His instincts screamed NO! But Emily's tears, the raw pain in her voice, the way she trembled—he knew she wouldn't stop.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Two soft knocks against the wooden door.

"Mommy…" The voice cracked now, almost crying. "Please, open the door… I'm scared."

Emily sobbed harder. She couldn't take it anymore.

Before Clay could stop her, she reached for the door handle.

"Emily, NO!" Clay shouted, lunging forward.

But it was too late.

The door creaked open.

The room beyond was empty.

There was no one there. Only shadows stretching across the floor.

But the voice remained.

"Daddy, please help me… otherwise, the man will take my life."

The voice was coming from inside the room.

But there was no one there.

Emily's breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she took a shaky step inside, her eyes scanning every corner.

"Ben?" she whispered.

The air felt heavier now, as if the walls themselves were closing in. The entire house seemed to breathe.

Clay grabbed Emily's arm, yanking her back. "This isn't right. We need to go—NOW!"

But Emily wasn't listening.

She stepped further into the room, her hands shaking as she searched for her son. "Ben? Where are you, baby?"

And then—

The door SLAMMED shut behind them.

The sound echoed through the house, sending a shockwave of fear down Clay's spine.

Emily spun around, gasping. "Clay!"

Clay rushed to the door, grabbing the handle and twisting it. Locked.

A low, chilling whisper filled the air.

"You shouldn't have opened the door."

Emily froze, her entire body going cold. "Who said that?" she whispered.

Clay turned, his back pressed against the locked door, his eyes darting across the dark room.

Then, from the farthest corner—something moved.

At first, it was just a shadow, blending with the darkness. But then—

Two glowing eyes appeared. Watching.

A figure slowly stepped forward, emerging from the shadows.

It was tall, its face still hidden, but the outline of a knife gleamed in the dim light.

Emily gasped, stumbling backward. "Who… who are you?" she choked out.

The figure took another step. The air turned freezing.

Clay stepped in front of Emily, his grip tightening on the chair leg. "Stay back!" he warned.

The figure tilted its head. And then—it spoke.

"Ben is with me now."

Emily let out a strangled cry, shaking her head. "No! No, that's not true! Where is my son?!"

The figure took another slow step forward. "You let me in."

Clay felt his entire body go stiff. His pulse pounded against his skull.

He had been right. This was a trap.

Emily covered her mouth, her whole body trembling. "Please… please, just give us back our son," she begged.

The figure stood still for a long moment. And then—

It smiled.

A slow, unnatural grin spread across its shadowed face.

"You should have never opened the door."

And with that—

The candle in the next room lit up on its own.

But this time, the flame was black.

Clay's breath caught in his throat. Emily sobbed. Lily whimpered.

Something was very, very wrong.

And the worst part?

The night was still not over.

The moment stretched into eternity.

Clay stood frozen, his breath ragged, his mind racing. The shadowed figure—the man who had whispered those terrifying words—was gone. Disappeared into thin air, just like before.

Emily clutched onto Clay's arm, her nails digging into his skin. "W-Where did he go?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clay had no answer. His heart still pounded like a war drum against his ribs, but before he could process what had happened, something even worse followed.

Click.

The door behind them unlocked on its own.

A slow, eerie creak filled the silence as the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit hallway beyond. The house was silent—too silent. The air felt wrong.

And then they saw it.

Lying just outside the door, sprawled motionless on the cold wooden floor—

Ben.

Emily let out a heart-wrenching scream and dashed forward. "Ben! Oh my God, Ben!" She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands frantically shaking his small body.

Clay's legs nearly gave out beneath him. His son—his little boy—was back.

But something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Ben's eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling. His skin was pale, almost lifeless. There was no movement, no blinking, no sound from his lips. His tiny hands rested limp at his sides.

Clay rushed to his side, his hands trembling as he touched his son's cold skin. "Ben? Son? Can you hear me?"

Ben's lips moved slightly—just a fraction. A whisper—so soft it barely existed.

But what came out of his mouth was not his voice.

"Daddy..."

The sound was hollow, distant—like an echo from another world.

Emily choked on a sob, pressing her forehead against Ben's chest. "No… no, no, please wake up, baby. Please…"

But Clay wasn't looking at Emily anymore.

He was looking into Ben's eyes.

Or rather—what was inside them.

Because the boy lying before them was Ben's body…

But it was not Ben's soul.

The eyes were different. Not the warm, innocent gaze of their little boy. They were empty. Cold. Unfamiliar.

A chill crawled down Clay's spine.

Emily still wept, rocking Ben gently in her arms. "Clay, say something! Do something!" she pleaded.

Clay opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come. He was too busy staring.

Because, slowly—so slowly it was almost unnoticeable—

Ben smiled.

A slow, unnatural curve of the lips.

Not a child's smile.

Something else entirely.

And then, in that same eerie, distorted voice—

Clay felt his entire body turn cold. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the eerie, unnatural smile stretching across Ben's lips. It wasn't his son's smile. It wasn't his son at all.

Emily was too lost in her grief to notice. She held Ben close, whispering his name over and over, begging him to wake up. But Clay… Clay couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

Because the thing in Ben's body was watching him.

Not Emily. Not Lily.

Only him.

The eyes—hollow and soulless—locked onto Clay's with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. It was as if something else had taken residence inside his son, something ancient, something dark.

And then, the silence broke.

A small chuckle—low, almost inaudible. But Clay heard it.

He saw Ben's lips part slightly, the strange grin still there.

Then, in that same unnatural, distorted voice, Ben spoke.

"Daddy… why do you look so scared?"

Clay's heart stopped.

Emily gasped, pulling back, her hands shaking as she looked into Ben's face. "Ben?" she whispered.

But Ben didn't blink.

Instead, his head tilted slightly—just like that unknown man from before.

Clay's fingers twitched, his mind screaming at him to grab Emily and Lily and run.

Then—

The candlelight flickered violently, the shadows stretching unnaturally across the walls. The temperature in the room dropped.

And in the distance—deep within the house—

A door creaked open.

Clay's blood ran cold.

Emily turned her head slowly toward the sound, her face pale with fear. Lily clung to her mother's arm, whimpering.

And then, in that same distorted, hollow voice, Ben—or whatever was inside him—

laughed.

A slow, chilling laugh that didn't belong to a child.

Clay's grip tightened on Emily's wrist, his voice barely a whisper.

"…We need to get out of here."

But before they could move, before they could even breathe—

Ben's head snapped toward them.

His grin widened.

His lips parted again—

And in a voice that didn't belong to him, a voice that wasn't of this world, he whispered—

"A life is loading."

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