That night, Eli couldn't sleep. The house was too quiet, and the thought of the basement door nagged at him. His dad had said there wasn't a door, but Eli had seen it. Touched it.
At some point, exhaustion won. He drifted into uneasy sleep, but something woke him hours later.
A whisper.
His breath hitched as he lay frozen in the dark. It had been faint, barely audible. Maybe just the wind.
Then he heard it again.
"Eli…"
His name, stretched thin and breathy, like it was being pulled through the walls. His chest tightened. He sat up, scanning his darkened room. His door was closed. The window, shut. His phone blinked low battery on the nightstand.
The whisper came again, closer this time.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, heart hammering. Every instinct screamed at him to stay put, to pull the covers over his head like a little kid. Instead, he stood and crept toward the hallway. The old floorboards groaned under his feet as he stepped out.
The house was still. The whisper had stopped. But something was off.
His eyes flicked to the stairs leading down to the basement.
The door was open.
He knew he had shut it earlier. Hadn't he?
Cold air drifted up from below, carrying with it the faintest hint of something rotten. Eli swallowed hard. He should wake his parents. Tell them something was wrong.
But then, beneath the hum of silence, he heard it again.
A voice.
Soft, pleading.
"Help me."
It was coming from the basement.