We stand here motionless, it was heard that this house was out of the ordinary—ordinary things aren't supposed to happen here. But how can we comprehend just the click of a lock? No footsteps, no noise—just the click of the front door's lock.
We muster up the courage to start towards the door, and I unapologetically grab his arm as I inch closer to him. He takes my hand instead, and we walk slowly and side to side to the front door. The only exit. The only entrance.
We notice a piece of paper on the floor ahead, assumedly slid under the door. He steps closer and leans down to grab it, and turns back around to face me as he brings it up into his eyeshot. I look at him as he nervously scans the paper.
He gulps, "You've found it. Task number one: find the code to unlock task number two. The door is bolted, and don't bother to call the cops. The cops will not save you, these tasks will." He trembles on his words, and looks up and into my eyes. In his eyes is fear, but he nods as he looks at me. He grabs my hand and gives me a reassuring smile. And for the first time, I see Phoenix. The Phoenix hidden from all: the Phoenix that cares.
"We—we have to call someone, do something, anything at all, we have—"
"Lilith! No, we can't. We can't."
"Someone's fucking with us," I say with a cracked voice, "Come on," I chuckle nervously.
"There's no other door. It's all just windows. Look, we can't risk it. There's a reason why no one comes down here, I just—I thought it was a myth. I've been here, just—not inside or, or at night." He stutters on his words, his words indicate guilt, and I shake my head in reassurance.
"Look, you didn't mean—"
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to, I don't know, see you outside of school, do something interesting, something that isn't some boring game, and I thought, you know, meeting you for the game, and then you know, surprise, but I never wanted to scare you, I'm sor—"
"Don't apologize. You didn't know this would happen, and—wait, see me outside of school?"
He gives me a slight smile. "Yeah. I know our conversations aren't much, but uh, I just, it's nice. I feel—" he shrugs, "I look forward to math. So I can talk to you. I just, I like you, I guess, talking to you, being around you. It's—calming, easy. Even when you're annoyed with me." I chuckle at the last part.
I think a part of me knew that he wasn't what I thought he was by the way that he talked to me. It was the only time that he was ever different than what I've seen and heard without his knowledge. But this Phoenix? This is the Phoenix everyone would fall over for, not the Phoenix that everyone else sees—it's a front. A front that he doesn't need to put up.
His facial expressions and mannerisms show his nerves loud and clear, and I don't think he realizes his shaking. Phoenix Hoffman stands ahead of me, stuttering on his words just to tell me that he likes talking to me. I grab his hand.
"Who knew you were such a softy," I say with a smile.
He chuckles nervously and shrugs and nods in agreement, "Yeah, well, good a time as any, right?"
I nod and smile. "I should call Vivian. Just that we'll be—late."
I release my hand from his and before I can dial Vivian's number, I notice the words: "No Service" at the top left of my phone.
"Fuck, no service."
"What? How? That doesn't—"
He stops himself, as if realizing the answer to his own question.
"Whoever it was, fucking cut off the power. That's why the whole damn neighborhood is pitch black." He closes his eyes and puts and hand through his hair in frustration and sighs.
"Look, we should uh, find this code or whatever."
"Dude didn't even specify? Like, code for what, bitch?"
I chuckle, and shrug, "I guess—we just search then." I grab the note from his hand, and read it over, "Find the CODE to UNLOCK." I point to the words before I stuff the note in my pocket. "The choice of wording—so, this code, it unlocks, like physically unlocks something, to where we find the next task."
"These notes, though. Is there more than one? I mean, someone could be in here. Doesn't that freak you out?"
I shrug, "Like you said, the only entrance is bolted. I can only guess they'll be coming from the door."
He sighs, and looks around him. His eyes hyperfixate on something past my shoulder, and I turn around. Another note, right on floor in front of the dining room table. At least, a piece of paper to which we assume is another note.
I charge towards it, and he comes up slowly behind me. I quickly turn it, and hold it ahead of me.
"Here's a hint. There's more than 4 stories." I read fast in a panic.
He tsks, "Oh my fucking god," he whispers, "How the hell did this even get in here?"
His frustration grows, and my nerves tense as I connect the notes.
As far as I can see—there's no way we couldn't have heard this note come in. There's no way we couldn't have heard footsteps, a creaking noise, a rustling noise, a thud, breathing—there's no way.
I grow fear-stricken at his question as I stare at note number two: How the hell did this get inside?