Chapter 5: Midnight Lies

I jumped back, startled, taking two steps away.

The knife clattered to the floor. My legs felt like jelly. I wiped sweat from my forehead, struggling to remember the excuse I’d rehearsed.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead as I stammered the excuse I’d prepared:

My voice cracked as I blurted out: "Uh—I thought you might want a midnight snack. You know, like those TikToks where people peel fruit in bed? I was gonna try it."

I held up the pear in my left hand.

Aubrey frowned.

She blinked, hair messy, eyes sharp—like a cat that’s just caught you sneaking snacks at midnight. She squinted at the clock on the nightstand, then back at me, one eyebrow raised in sleepy suspicion.

"Why are you peeling pears in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?"

Her voice was sharp, but she yawned. I tried to act casual, even though I probably looked like a deer in headlights.

"I just wanted to make up with you."

I forced a smile, hands shaking as I peeled the pear.

My hands fumbled, strips of skin falling onto the comforter. I prayed she couldn’t see how badly I was shaking.

Aubrey snorted and scooted away: "Alright, stop peeling, get in bed and sleep. But from now on, don’t bite there again—that’s just disrespectful."

Her tone was lighter now, almost playful, but I could tell she was still annoyed. I nodded like crazy, wishing I could swear an oath right then and there.

When I lay down, I tried to sound casual:

I kept my voice soft, staring at the ceiling: "You looked like you were sleeping so soundly, but as soon as I took out a knife, you woke up. Were you pretending to sleep?"

Aubrey looked annoyed.

She huffed, rolling her eyes.

"People have instincts, you know? If someone points a knife at you, you’d wake up too."

Her reaction was so natural I almost believed her.

She snuggled deeper into the covers, mumbling something about me being dramatic. For a moment, I thought maybe I really was just losing it.

But some last shred of reason reminded me of the admin’s warning, so I snuck a glance at Aubrey’s chest.

The streetlight through the window cast weird shadows. What I saw nearly made me fall out of bed.

The little figure tattooed on her chest used to have a smiling face—I always remembered that cheerful look.

It was one of those tiny details I loved, like the dimple in her left cheek or the way she laughed at dumb sitcoms.

But now, the smile was gone.

The face was completely blank.

It was like the figure’s features had been erased—just pale, empty skin where a smile used to be.

At that moment, Aubrey got up and turned off the light.

She moved with a sleepy grace, not noticing the way I stared.

"Go to sleep, it’s late. I’ll make you something good tomorrow."

Her voice was gentle, and for a split second, things almost felt normal again. I lay trembling beside her. If I weren’t afraid of alerting her, I might have screamed from fear.

Only after her breathing evened out did I quietly get up and flee to the bathroom.

I moved as silently as I could, clutching my phone to my chest. The bathroom tiles chilled my bare feet, and the air smelled faintly of bleach and last week’s lavender candle. I hurriedly grabbed my phone and opened the admin’s profile.

"Something really seems off. The little figure’s face is actually gone. What’s happening?"

I typed as fast as I could, hoping for an instant reply. But the admin’s profile was grayed out now, and no reply ever came.

I could only sit on the toilet, mind blank from fear, staring numbly around.

The world outside the bathroom felt unreal, like I’d stumbled into a horror movie set. Suddenly, a black wooden block in the corner caught my eye.

It was small, almost hidden behind the toilet brush, but I swear I’d never seen it before.

I was sure I’d never seen anything shaped like that in my house before. What was it?

It looked like something you’d find at a roadside curio shop on Route 66, only way creepier. The wood was dark as midnight, with something carved into its side.

Curious, I got up and checked the corner. The moment I picked up the wooden block, I wanted to throw it away immediately.

The thing was cold and oddly heavy, like it had just been pulled from a river. Simple reason: the pattern carved on the block was exactly the same as the one on Aubrey’s chest.

A little figure holding a cross.

Pitch-black wood, a blood-red cross, and a weird, metallic smell wafting from it—all in the dead of night, making my skin crawl.

The metallic scent was strong, sharp like pennies. I tried to steady my nerves, reminding myself this was probably just some weird piece of folk art. I grabbed the block, about to toss it out the bathroom window.

Suddenly, a voice whispered behind me.

It was soft, barely more than a breath, but it made every hair on my body stand up straight.

"What are you doing?"