"Breakfast is ready," Maria called from the dining room, her voice carrying through the long hallways.
Kyle hesitated at the top of the staircase, his hand gripping the smooth, ornate railing. The Rivers estate felt more like a maze than a home, each corridor darker than the last, as if the walls themselves were trying to close in. He adjusted his shirt nervously, his gaze flickering to the workers scattered across the hall below. Their eyes met his briefly before darting away, their faces blank, almost ghostlike.
As he descended the stairs, Isaac appeared at the bottom, greeting him with a warm smile. "Kyle, good morning! Did you sleep well?"
Kyle shrugged, his voice quiet. "The bed's comfortable enough, but the creaks in the walls kept me up. Felt like someone was walking outside my door all night."
Isaac chuckled softly, his hand clapping Kyle's shoulder. "Old house quirks. You'll get used to it. Come, everyone's waiting."
Kyle followed him into the dining room. The massive table was filled with food, fresh bread, eggs, sausages, and fruit. The family sat at their usual spots, Elizabeth at the head, regal and composed, Clarissa sipping tea while Elise fiddled with her phone, a scowl etched on her face. Maria, always the peacemaker, was serving plates with a cheerful smile.
"Kyle," Elizabeth said, her voice firm but kind. "Come, sit by me."
He took his seat, the weight of their collective gaze pressing on him. The atmosphere was thick, the kind of silence that felt alive, humming with unspoken thoughts.
"So, Kyle," Clarissa began, setting her cup down with a deliberate clink. "What do you think of the estate so far?"
"It's… beautiful," he replied cautiously, glancing around. "A lot bigger than I expected."
"Of course it is," Elise snorted, rolling her eyes. "This isn't some gardener's shack."
"Elise!" Clarissa snapped, her tone sharp as a knife. "Show some respect."
Maria leaned toward Kyle, her voice low. "Don't mind her. She's like this with everyone." Then, louder, she added, "So, Kyle, are you ready for the grand tour today?"
Kyle nodded, eager for a change of topic. "Yeah, sure. I'd like to see the rest of the estate."
"Good," Isaac said, standing. "We'll start after breakfast. There's a lot of history here you should know about."
The first stop was the west wing, a section of the house that felt colder than the rest. The air seemed heavier, the walls lined with old portraits of solemn-faced ancestors. Kyle paused in front of one painting, a man who looked eerily similar to him.
"That's your great-grandfather," Isaac said, stepping beside him. "He built this estate from the ground up."
Kyle nodded, but his attention drifted to the shadows at the edge of the room. He could swear someone, or something, was watching him.
As they moved on, the workers they passed didn't just glance at him, they stared. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to something darker, almost accusatory. One older man muttered something under his breath, his eyes never leaving Kyle.
"What's his problem?" Kyle whispered to Isaac.
Isaac sighed, his voice low. "The staff is… protective of the Rivers name. It'll take time for them to warm up to you."
Kyle wasn't convinced. The way they looked at him sent chills down his spine.
By the time they reached the gardens, Kyle felt like the estate was suffocating him. The lush greenery and vibrant flowers should have been a relief, but even here, the workers watched him from a distance. Their whispers carried on the breeze, though he couldn't make out the words.
"Let's head back inside," Isaac suggested, sensing Kyle's unease. "There's more to see."
The dining room was bustling with activity when they returned. John Carson, the butler, stood near the fireplace, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on Kyle like a hawk watching prey.
"Ah, our new guest," John said, his voice smooth but laced with something unsettling. "I trust the tour was enlightening?"
Kyle nodded, avoiding his piercing stare. "It's a big place."
"Yes," John replied, his lips curling into a thin smile. "Full of secrets, some better left undisturbed."
Dinner that night was tense. Clarissa and Elise bickered about something trivial, their voices sharp against the clinking of silverware. Elizabeth sat in silence, her gaze flickering between her family members, her expression unreadable.
"Kyle," Elise said suddenly, breaking the rhythm of the meal. "What's your deal, anyway? Why now? Why come here?"
"Elise," Clarissa warned, her tone icy. "Enough."
"No, it's fine," Kyle said, setting his fork down. "I'm here because Isaac invited me. I didn't even know about this family until recently."
"Exactly," Elise shot back. "You don't belong here."
"Elise!" Elizabeth's voice cut through the room like a blade. The table fell silent, the tension palpable.
After a long pause, Elizabeth spoke again, her tone softer. "This is a family dinner. Let's not ruin it with petty arguments."
Later that evening, Kyle wandered the halls alone, trying to shake the unease that clung to him like a second skin. The house was eerily quiet, the dim lights casting long, shifting shadows. He turned a corner and nearly bumped into John.
"You should be resting," John said, his tone cold.
"I just needed some air," Kyle replied, stepping back.
John leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't belong here, boy. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave."
Kyle felt a surge of anger mixed with fear. "What is your problem? I'm not going anywhere."
John's eyes narrowed, his expression dark. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."
As John disappeared into the shadows, Kyle's breath quickened. He turned and hurried back toward his room, but the hall seemed longer than he remembered. The paintings on the walls seemed to watch him, their eyes glinting in the dim light.
When he finally reached his room, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, his heart beating faster. The events of the day replayed in his mind, the stares, the whispers, John's cryptic warning.
Just as he began to relax, a faint sound caught his attention. A soft, rhythmic tapping. He froze, his eyes darting to the window. The curtains billowed slightly, though the glass was closed.
Then he heard it again, closer this time. A tap, tap, tap against the floor.
Kyle turned slowly, his breath hitching as he saw it: a dark figure standing in the corner of his room, motionless. Its features were obscured by the shadows, but its presence was undeniable.
Before he could move or speak, the figure stepped forward, the faint light catching its pale, hollow face. It tilted its head, its empty eyes locking onto his.
Kyle's scream caught in his throat as the figure raised a hand and pointed directly at him.
The room plunged into darkness as he fell unconscious.
To Be Continued...