The room was silent, save for the faint sound of dripping water from somewhere deep within the decayed walls. Clara's hands trembled as she held the tarnished pocket watch. Elias stood across from her, the notebook clutched tightly against his chest. Neither spoke for what felt like an eternity, the weight of their shared past suffocating them both.
Finally, Clara broke the silence, her voice shaking. "Why now, Elias? After all this time, why here?"
Elias stared at her, his eyes hollow. "Because I can't live like this anymore. Julien won't let me."
Clara's throat tightened. "Julien is gone. We both know that."
"Is he?" Elias's voice cracked, a mix of anger and despair. He held up the notebook, its pages fluttering as if alive. "Because he's in here, Clara. He's in every word, every thought I've tried to bury. He won't leave me alone."
Clara stepped closer, her grip on the pocket watch tightening. "You think you're the only one haunted by him? You think you're the only one who can't sleep at night because of what happened?"
Elias's laugh was bitter, a sound devoid of humor. "Haunted? You don't know what that word means. You weren't there in the flames, Clara. You didn't see his face—his eyes—when I hesitated."
Clara flinched as if struck. "I didn't see it because you wouldn't let me! You pushed me out of the room, Elias! You chose to stay behind, to play the hero. Don't you dare put this all on me."
The room seemed to darken, the shadows stretching like grasping hands. Elias looked down at the notebook, his fingers tracing the jagged handwriting. "I wasn't trying to be a hero," he whispered. "I was trying to make up for everything I'd done wrong. For all the times I let him down."
"Let him down?" Clara's voice rose, her anger barely contained. "You didn't let him down, Elias. We all let each other down. We were kids playing with things we didn't understand."
---
The walls of the house groaned as if reacting to their words. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of smoke wafted through the room.
Elias looked up sharply. "Do you smell that?"
Clara nodded, her eyes darting around. "Smoke."
"It's him," Elias said, his voice barely audible. "He's here."
"That's impossible," Clara snapped, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty. "Julien is dead. We buried him."
"Did we?" Elias's gaze bore into her. "Or did we bury a lie, Clara? Did we tell ourselves a story so we could sleep at night?"
Clara took a step back, shaking her head. "Don't do this. Don't twist this into something it's not."
Elias's voice rose, desperation overtaking him. "I hesitated! He screamed for me, and I didn't move. Do you understand what that means? I let him die because I was too afraid to save him."
Clara's eyes filled with tears, but her voice was firm. "And I was too afraid to stop you. You think I don't carry that guilt every single day? You think I don't hear his voice every time I close my eyes?"
---
The shadows in the room began to move, swirling and coalescing into shapes that were almost human. Elias and Clara froze, their argument forgotten as the temperature plummeted.
One of the shapes stepped forward, its outline flickering like a dying flame. Its voice was distorted, yet unmistakable.
"Still fighting, are we?"
Clara gasped, her legs nearly giving out. "No… no, it can't be."
"Julien?" Elias whispered, his voice filled with equal parts hope and dread.
The figure didn't answer. It stepped closer, its features sharpening into a grotesque parody of Julien's face. The smile was too wide, the eyes too bright.
"You've both done such a good job running," the figure said, its tone mocking. "But the thing about fire is, it doesn't let go. It clings. It consumes."
"Stop," Clara begged, tears streaming down her face. "This isn't real. You're not real."
The figure turned to her, its smile widening. "Aren't I? Or maybe I'm just the part of you that never left that room. The part that watched me burn."
"Don't listen to it," Elias said, though his own voice wavered. "It's not him. It's… something else."
The figure laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally. "Oh, Elias. Always so quick to dismiss what you don't understand. That's why you froze, isn't it? Because deep down, you knew you couldn't save me."
---
Clara stepped forward, her fear replaced by anger. "What do you want from us?"
The figure tilted its head, as if considering the question. "I want you to see. To remember. The truth you've buried, the pieces you've ignored."
Elias shook his head violently. "No. I don't want to remember."
"But you already do," the figure whispered. "It's why you're here. Why you brought her here. Because you can't face it alone."
Clara looked at Elias, her voice trembling. "What is it talking about? What truth?"
Elias's face was pale, his hands trembling. "I… I don't know."
The figure laughed again, the sound filling the room. "Liar."
The shadows surged forward, engulfing them both. Clara screamed as the world around her dissolved into darkness.
---
When the darkness lifted, Clara found herself back in the dorm room. But it wasn't the decayed version she had seen earlier. It was pristine, as if time had rewound itself.
Julien was there, sitting on the bed, laughing at something Elias had said. Clara stood frozen in the doorway, watching the scene unfold.
"This isn't real," she whispered to herself. "This is just a memory."
But the memory shifted. Julien's laughter turned to screams, and the room filled with smoke. Clara tried to move, to do something, but her body wouldn't obey her.
She watched in horror as Elias stood frozen, his face a mask of terror. Julien reached out to him, his eyes wide with desperation.
"Help me!" Julien screamed.
And then the flames consumed him.
---
Clara jolted back to the present, her body drenched in sweat. She was on the floor of the decayed house, the pocket watch still in her hand. Elias was beside her, staring at the notebook with vacant eyes.
"It wasn't your fault," Clara said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elias didn't look at her. "It doesn't matter. He's still gone."
The notebook's pages began to glow, the words rearranging themselves into a single sentence:
"Do you see it now?"
Clara reached out, her hand brushing against Elias's. "We have to stop running, Elias. We have to face it together."
Elias looked at her, his eyes filled with pain. "What if we can't?"
Clara tightened her grip on his hand. "Then at least we'll go down fighting."
The shadows in the room began to recede, but the sense of unease lingered. As they stood, the notebook fell open to a new page.
The words were written in Julien's handwriting:
"You're not done yet."