Cass's breath came slow and controlled, but his heart hammered in his chest. He had been through enough in the last twenty-four hours to know better than to ignore the feeling creeping up his spine. Something was off.
The kitchen lights flickered, casting long, shifting shadows against the tile. He tightened his grip on his coffee mug and turned toward the hallway. It stretched into darkness, empty and still. Too still.
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. You're being paranoid.
Still, he took a step forward.
Another creak.
This time, he knew he wasn't imagining it.
Cass's body tensed, but before he could speak, a small, sleepy voice shattered the tension.
"Dad?"
Cass jumped so violently that the coffee in his hand sloshed over the rim, burning his fingers. He hissed a curse and turned toward the voice.
Vera stood at the edge of the hallway, wrapped in a blanket, her hair a tangled mess. She rubbed one eye with a fist, blinking at him like a disgruntled cat disturbed from its slumber.
Cass let out a slow breath, placing the mug down on the counter. "Jesus, Vera. You scared the hell out of me."
Vera squinted at him. "You're the one standing in the dark like some kind of weirdo."
A strained chuckle slipped from his lips. There it is. The absurdity of the moment. He had been on the verge of thinking reality itself was breaking, and yet—his daughter, standing there wrapped like a burrito, somehow grounded him.
"What are you doing up?" Cass asked, kneeling to her level. "It's late."
Vera yawned. "I had a bad dream."
Cass frowned. Bad dreams.
The coincidence wasn't lost on him.
He smoothed a hand over her hair. "Wanna talk about it?"
Vera hesitated, then shrugged. "It was just weird."
"Weird how?"
She chewed her lip, as if deciding how much to say. Then, finally: "I think I saw a cat."
Cass's breath hitched.
She kept going, oblivious to his reaction. "Not a normal one. It was standing in the street, but it was too tall. And it had, like… no face."
The air in the room tightened. No. No, that's too much of a coincidence.
He swallowed, keeping his voice light. "That does sound weird."
Vera nodded, unconcerned. "Yeah, but then I woke up. And I got thirsty."
Cass hesitated. His mind wanted to pull the dream apart, analyze it, connect it to the things he wasn't ready to say aloud. But Vera was just a kid. Maybe it really was just a dream.
Or maybe it was another thread in the unraveling reality around him.
Either way, she didn't need to carry that weight.
"Well," he said, offering her his mug, "want some of my coffee?"
She gave him the flattest, most unimpressed look a ten-year-old could muster. "You're insane."
Cass snorted. "Fine, fine. Water it is."
He got up, grabbing a glass and filling it at the sink. Vera watched him, still half-asleep, then took the cup with a quiet, "Thanks."
They stood in silence for a moment. The hallway, the darkness, the tension—all of it had shifted.
It was just him and his daughter now. Just another late night. Just a moment.
Vera yawned again. "You should sleep too, you know."
Cass smirked. "I'll think about it."
She peered up at him. "You look weird."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, I mean…" She frowned. "Like you're thinking too much."
Cass went still.
Vera stared at him a moment longer, then shrugged and padded back down the hall. She hesitated at her bedroom door. "Hey, Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"You're okay, right?"
Cass opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn't sure how to answer.
"Yeah, kid," he finally said. "I'm okay."
Vera didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press. She just nodded and slipped back into her room.
Cass exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face.
The tension had faded. The moment had passed.
But deep down, he knew.
Something was still waiting for him in the dark.
He lingered in the kitchen for a while, nursing what was left of his coffee. The silence around him felt different now—less ominous, more reflective. He should go to bed. He knew that. But sleep felt impossible.
His mind kept circling back to Vera's words. A cat with no face.
Had she seen something? Or was it just another strange coincidence in a long line of them?
Cass rubbed his temples, his exhaustion pressing against him like a weight. The logical part of his brain told him that she was just a kid with an overactive imagination. That dreams were just dreams.
But logic hadn't done him much good lately.
A soft shuffle came from the hallway. He tensed, turning toward the sound.
For a moment, he thought it was Vera again.
But it wasn't.
A figure stood at the far end of the hall, half-hidden in shadow.
Cass's breath caught in his throat. Too tall. Too still.
Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.
His pulse pounded against his ribs, his fingers tightening around the mug. His mind scrambled to process what he had just seen—or if he had seen anything at all.
Then, from Vera's room, her quiet, half-asleep voice:
"Dad?"
Cass inhaled sharply. "Yeah, kid?"
A pause. Then:
"Did you see it too?"
End of Chapter 6