Splash! Ice-cold water hit Kyle's face, yanking him out of his sleep with a violent shock. He gasped, sitting up on the damp, straw-covered floor of the shed, his vision blurred by the dirty water dripping down his face. The small space reeked of mildew and damp earth. As he blinked the murkiness from his eyes, the face of Adam Miller came into focus, his employer and tormentor, with a look of disgust twisting his features.
Behind him, standing with a smug smile on his lips, was Rebecca, Adam's daughter. Her eyes sparkled with a cruel delight as she watched Kyle struggle to his feet, the cold seeping through his bones.
"Get up, you piece of trash," Adam snapped, his voice was filled with anger and yet dangerous. Before Kyle could fully regain his balance, a sharp sting exploded across his cheek as Adam's hand connected with his face. The slap echoed in the shed, followed by a seething silence.
"What the hell makes you think you can come into my house and steal from my family?" Adam growled, stepping closer, his breath hot and sour on Kyle's face.
"I-I didn't…" Kyle stammered, his voice was hoarse from sleep and shock. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Miller."
Another slap came, harder this time, sending a jolt of pain through Kyle's jaw. He staggered back, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his throbbing cheek.
"You stole Rebecca's diamond necklace!" Adam roared. "Are you going to stand there and tell me my daughter is lying? You, a worthless nobody, daring to insult my family?"
"I swear, I didn't take anything!" Kyle pleaded, his voice trembling. The accusation felt like a crushing weight on his chest. "I wouldn't."
"Enough!" Adam interrupted, his voice slicing through the air. "You'll pay for this. For the next three months, you'll get no salary. If you even think about leaving, I'll have you thrown in jail so fast your head will spin. You're lucky I haven't called the cops right now." He spat on the ground near Kyle's feet, then stormed out of the shed without another word.
Rebecca stepped forward, her heels clicking against the dusty floor. She leaned in close, a sickly sweet smile curling on her lips. "I warned you, didn't I?" she whispered. "Rejecting me would have consequences." Her eyes flashed with satisfaction. "You should be grateful that someone like me even considered you. But now… now you're going to pay."
Kyle's hands clenched into fists at his sides, the humiliation burning hotter than the sting on his cheek. Is not even like they had been paying him consistently, he needed to make a better life for himself, but these goddamn people..... He watched as Rebecca turned on her heel and left, her laughter hanging in the air like a cold mist. He sank to the floor, his knees weak, and slumped back against the wall of the shed, cursing the life that had led him to this moment.
How had it all gone so wrong? It seemed like the world had always been against him. From one foster home to the next, never staying long enough to form a real connection with anyone. As soon as he turned eighteen, he found himself on the streets, scraping by on whatever scraps he could find, never knowing what a real home felt like. When he found work at the Miller estate, he thought maybe, just maybe, he could build something here, even if it was a hard life. But their cruelty knew no bounds.
The Millers had always treated him as less than human, a mere tool for their convenience. But he had endured, because at least here, there was a roof over his head and some kind of stability, no matter how twisted.
"Kyle!" The harsh voice of Mrs. Zoe Miller sliced through his thoughts. He glanced up to see her standing outside the shed, her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face. "Get your lazy self inside. I have a message for you."
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His wet shirt clung to his skin, the chill biting into him. He peeled it off and reached for the dry, threadbare one hanging on the hook beside the door. As he pulled the shirt over his head, a faint voice drifted through the air, just barely above a whisper. "Ethan…"
The voice seemed to echo inside his skull, rattling his thoughts. He yanked the shirt down quickly, his eyes darting around the dimly lit shed. The name echoed in his mind. Ethan? But no one was there. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, a prickling unease crawling up his spine.
He shook his head, trying to push away the creeping sense of dread. "Must be hearing things," he muttered to himself. He hadn't slept properly in days, not with the constant chores and late nights spent trying to avoid the Millers' wrath. Exhaustion can make a person imagine things.
With one last glance around the empty shed, he stepped outside, the chill autumn air hitting his damp skin. Mrs. Zoe Miller was waiting on the front steps of the house, her gaze hard and unforgiving.
"Are you deaf now?" she snapped as he approached. "I said come inside. There's something I need you to do, and don't keep me waiting."
Kyle followed her into the house, his footsteps dragging on the polished floors. The air inside felt thick, suffocating, as if the house itself were alive and feeding off the misery within its walls. It was always like this lit and silent, with shadows that seemed to stretch farther than they should.
Mrs. Miller led him to the parlor, where a large mirror hung on the wall. As he passed by it, Kyle caught a glimpse of his reflection and froze. There, just for a moment, a figure stood behind him, a pale face with hollow eyes and a gaping mouth, silently mouthing the name "Ethan." But when he spun around, there was nothing there, only the empty hallway.
"What is it now?" Mrs. Miller barked, noticing his hesitation. "Stop dawdling and get on with it. We don't pay you to stand around like a statue."
"I...nothing, ma'am," Kyle replied, his voice shaking slightly. "I thought I saw… never mind."
Zoe took her phone scrolling through social media, "Oh look at the new private jet, Issac Rivers just bought for his wife....I wish my life was that good" she said nonchalantly. Mrs Miller looked at Kyle. "ughhh what are you still standing here for boy, take this list and get on" She spat.
He tried to shrug off the unsettling feeling as Mrs. Miller handed him a list of chores to complete. But the sense of being watched lingered. As he worked through the afternoon, he couldn't shake the feeling that the voice he'd heard earlier wasn't a figment of his imagination. It was as if something was trying to reach out to him, clawing its way through the walls of this place, from the depths of the what? He don't know.
Later that evening, after everyone had gone to bed, Kyle crept back to the shed, his mind still replaying the events of the day. He lay down on the pile of blankets that served as his bed, trying to ignore the racing of his heart. The darkness in the shed was thick and oppressive, pressing in from all sides.
Just as he was about to drift off, the voice came again, clearer this time, seeping into the stillness. "Ethan… help me…"
Kyle sat up, his pulse racing. The voice wasn't inside his head; it was coming from the shed itself. He felt an icy dread wash over him as he glanced toward the far corner, where the shadows seemed to writhe and twist as though alive.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin. Whatever was haunting him wasn't going away.