Elise stared at the journal in her hands, her fingers trembling as she flipped through the pages. Each word, each drawing, seemed to come alive in her mind, yet it all felt like a dream—familiar yet foreign, like pieces of a memory that had been stolen from her. The ink on the pages was smudged, as though it had been written in haste or distress. It was her handwriting, but the words didn't make sense. She could feel the weight of them pressing on her chest, choking her with their truth.
Greg stood by the window, his back turned, his posture rigid. His silence was deafening. Every part of Elise wanted to scream at him, demand answers, but she couldn't bring herself to. The words in the journal weren't the only thing that haunted her; it was him, too. Greg had been part of her world for so long, but now, with everything she had learned, it felt like he was nothing but a stranger wrapped in layers of lies.
"Elise," Greg said finally, his voice thick with a tension that was almost palpable. "You've been running from this. From the truth. But you can't run anymore. You have to see it for what it is."
Her heart hammered in her chest, the sound deafening in the silence of the room. She wanted to scream, to push everything away, but she knew she couldn't. The truth was already here, right in front of her, and there was no escaping it.
"Why?" Elise choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me… let me keep digging?"
Greg turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "I couldn't tell you," he said softly. "You weren't ready. None of us were. But now… now it's time."
Elise's mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fit together in a way that made her stomach turn. The murders. The disappearances. Mia. The cryptic messages. Everything pointed to one thing: her. She was at the center of it all. But how? Why?
"I don't understand," she whispered, her eyes searching his face for any hint of truth. "What does this all mean?"
Greg's gaze softened, but the sadness in his eyes only deepened the dread that was already creeping through Elise's veins. "It means you're more involved than you think. And the only way to stop this, to end it all… is to face what's been buried. What's been locked away."
Elise's hands shook as she gripped the journal tighter. She could feel the weight of the words pressing down on her, like they were pulling her into a vortex from which there would be no return. But no matter how hard she tried to push it all away, she couldn't. The truth was there, and it was waiting for her to acknowledge it.
"Do you remember the story I told you?" Greg asked quietly. "The one about the cult? The one about the ritual?"
Her breath hitched in her throat. The cult. The ritual. It had been buried in her mind, a memory so distant that she had almost convinced herself it was nothing more than a nightmare. But now, it was all coming back.
"I—" Elise started, but her voice faltered. "I don't remember. I don't remember any of it."
Greg stepped closer to her, his presence heavy and oppressive. "You will. You have to. Because if you don't, the darkness will consume you. It's already started."
Elise felt her pulse quicken as her vision blurred. The room seemed to spin, and for a moment, she wasn't sure if she was still awake or if she had fallen into another dream. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stretch and crawl toward her, their whispers a haunting chorus in her ears. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself, but the darkness was too much. It was suffocating her.
"I can't do this," she gasped, the journal slipping from her hands to the floor with a soft thud. "I don't want to remember."
Greg's hand shot out to steady her, his grip firm but gentle. "You don't have a choice, Elise. You've been part of this all along. You've just been too blinded by fear to see it."
Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. The weight of his words pressed on her chest, making it hard to breathe. The truth was suffocating, crushing her under its weight. But no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she knew he was right.
"Elise," Greg said softly, his voice breaking through the fog of fear in her mind. "You have to face it. The cult, the ritual, everything… it's all connected to you. You were chosen."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Chosen. But for what? What was she supposed to do with this knowledge? The fear that had been slowly creeping into her mind now burst into full force, flooding her veins like ice.
"I don't want to be part of this anymore," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want out. I want to escape."
"You can't," Greg replied softly. "Not now. The web is too tight. You're already in it."