My mom still had her hand clamped over her mouth, taking short, ragged breaths. She stared at the boy as if his features might physically rearrange themselves if she just looked hard enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But they didn\u2019t. The longer she stared, the more my dad bled through his face: the bridge of his nose, the slight droop of his left eyelid, that dead-serious expression that just looked entirely wrong on a kid\u2014like he had borrowed it from an old man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe reacted first. She dropped to her knees in front of him and grabbed his face with both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI told you never to talk about her,\u201d she hissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The boy didn\u2019t flinch. He just kept hugging that faded backpack tight to his chest. \u201cShe found us,\u201d he replied deadpan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The way he said it made my eyes dart toward the backyard against my will. The curtains were drawn, but I could still feel it\u2014that creeping sensation of someone standing just on the other side of the glass, watching our kitchen with endless patience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom stumbled back a step. \u201cWhat does he mean by \u2018other mommy\u2019?\u201d she asked, her voice sounding frail and ancient. \u201cChloe\u2026 what the hell did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe shot up so fast her chair clattered to the linoleum. \u201cI didn\u2019t do anything! I tried to get out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGet out of where?\u201d I demanded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eyes darted to the backyard window. Then to the ceiling. Then to the hallway door. Like she was doing the math on exactly how much time we had left before whatever was out there decided to invite itself in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI can\u2019t explain it all up here,\u201d she panted. \u201cThe well comes first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom started shaking her head, faster and faster. \u201cNo. No, absolutely not. Your father capped that thing for a reason. We already opened it once that night and it was a mistake. We prayed, we brought the priest out here, we poured quicklime down there, we already\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBecause she wasn\u2019t alone down there!\u201d Chloe interrupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Those words sucked all the air out of the room. Even the rattling ceiling fan seemed to stall out. I felt a sickening drop in my gut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWho wasn\u2019t alone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe looked at me like I was walking into the middle of a movie. \u201cI wasn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A faint noise scraped from the backyard. It wasn\u2019t a knock. It was a wet squeal, like waterlogged fingers dragging across solid concrete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom let out a whimper and hurriedly crossed herself. \u201cDon\u2019t touch that curtain,\u201d she pleaded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hadn\u2019t planned on it, but my body was running on terrifying autopilot. I took a step. Then another. I pinched the fabric with two trembling fingers and pulled it back just an inch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t see anything out there. Just our pitch-black Salem yard, the rusted clothesline, and way in the back, the pale gray circle of the well under its cracked concrete slab.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But there was something else in the reflection of the glass. A silhouette standing right behind me in the kitchen. A woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a split second, I thought it was Chloe\u2014until I realized Chloe was still over by the dining table. The figure in the glass was taller. Her hair was plastered flat against her skull like she had just been dragged from a lake, and she was clutching something small in her hand. A little doll.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I spun around. Nothing. Just the dim kitchen, my terrified mother, Chloe holding her breath, and the boy\u2014who hadn\u2019t moved an inch, totally unfazed by the phantom in the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe\u2019s here,\u201d the boy stated flatly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, I saw a raw, primal desperation in them I hadn\u2019t seen since we were kids. \u201cI need a sledgehammer. A heavy shovel. Whatever we\u2019ve got in the garage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTo smash the concrete cap?\u201d I asked. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom let out a cracked, hysterical little laugh. \u201cAnd then what? What are you hoping to fish out of there? Your own bones? Another lie? Because that\u2019s all you brought home, isn\u2019t it? Seven years MIA, and you walk in with a strange kid and ghost stories.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe went rigid. She didn\u2019t snap back right away. Her eyes flared with a mix of fury, crushing guilt, and absolute exhaustion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMom, I was nineteen when I left,\u201d she said, her voice dropping dangerously low. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to believe a word I say. But I swear to God, if we don\u2019t bust that well open tonight, by tomorrow morning she won\u2019t know the difference between me and him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The boy slowly looked up. \u201cOr you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nobody breathed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went out to the side shed to grab the gardening spade and my dad\u2019s old masonry sledgehammer. When I picked them up, I almost dropped them. The heavy iron tools were soaking wet. Not just damp\u2014dripping. Like someone had held them underwater just seconds before I walked in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I carried them back to the kitchen in dead silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe grabbed the sledgehammer. Her hands were shaking so violently I thought she\u2019d drop it on her foot. \u201cYou\u2019re staying here,\u201d she ordered the boy. \u201cNo, I\u2019m not,\u201d he said. \u201cYes, you are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked at her with an unbearable, adult emptiness. \u201cIf you leave me inside alone, she\u2019ll start whispering to me again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom choked back a sob and grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing. I honestly didn\u2019t know what terrified me more: the pitch-black yard, the insane things Chloe was saying, or the chillingly casual way the kid was talking about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All four of us went out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I pushed the back door open, and the night air hit us. It smelled heavily of swampy, wet earth, even though it hadn\u2019t rained in weeks. The yard was freezing\u2014way colder than Salem should be this time of year. The chill seeped right through the rubber soles of my Converse and crawled up my shins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The well was right where it had always been. A stone circle capped with the sloppy, uneven concrete pad my dad had poured years ago. The weeds growing around its base were completely white, drained of color like they\u2019d never seen the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe didn\u2019t march right up to it. She scanned the perimeter: the wooden fence, the roofline, the shed, the kitchen window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf she speaks to you, ignore her,\u201d Chloe whispered. \u201cWho?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She didn\u2019t answer. She jammed the spade into a hairline fracture in the concrete and shoved her weight onto the handle. It didn\u2019t budge. I grabbed on to help her. Straining together, we barely managed to pry up a jagged chunk of cement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There wasn\u2019t dirt underneath. There was a second layer. Wood. Heavy, black timber, swollen and rotting from moisture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWho the hell put wood under the cement?\u201d I panted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom spoke up from a few feet away, wrapping her arms around herself. \u201cYour father.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turned to her. \u201cDad actually climbed down there?\u201d Mom couldn\u2019t make herself answer. But the boy, Caleb, did. \u201cHe went down twice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The silence in the yard was so absolute I could hear the faint hum of a streetlamp two blocks away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe adjusted her grip on the sledgehammer and brought it down hard on the rotting wood. Crack.<\/em> She swung again. Crack.<\/em> On the third strike, something pounded back. From underneath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It wasn\u2019t an echo. It was a knock. An answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom shrieked and covered her ears. I stumbled backward into the wet grass. Caleb just stood there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cKeep going,\u201d he said. It wasn\u2019t a request. It was an order.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe hoisted the hammer and smashed it down one last time. The wood splintered and caved in. The stench hit us instantly. It wasn\u2019t just old mildew. It was the smell of decades-old stagnant water, black mold, rotting lilies, and a sickly-sweet metallic odor that coated the back of my throat like I was tasting it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The mouth of the well was exposed. Wide open. Unnaturally black.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I remembered it being a narrow, decorative thing from before the city laid plumbing. But the hole gaping in front of us looked way too massive to exist in our backyard. The inner walls were stacked fieldstone, and on the rocks near the top, I could clearly see deep, vertical gouges\u2014like someone had frantically dragged bare fingernails all the way up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe dropped to her knees at the edge and yelled down into the dark: \u201cI came for him!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nothing answered. Just the wet, hollow echo of her own voice fading into the abyss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom grabbed my arm, digging her nails in. \u201cWe never should have opened it,\u201d she sobbed. \u201cLook at the bricks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked where she was pointing. On the back wall of our house, directly facing the well, water was bleeding through the mortar. Thick, dark streams were trickling down the side of the siding. Then more. It looked like there was an entire flooded lake trapped just behind our drywall, pushing to get out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb dropped his faded backpack onto the mud. \u201cWe have to pull the bag out first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I spun around. \u201cWhat bag?\u201d He pointed down into the pitch black. I leaned over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Snagged on a jagged rock about ten feet down was a heavy-duty black contractor bag. It was bloated, bobbing slightly in the dark, oily water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I gagged. \u201cHell no,\u201d I backed away. \u201cI am absolutely not touching that.\u201d Chloe looked up at me. For the first time all night, the tough shell vanished. She sounded exactly like the big sister I grew up with. \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That somehow made it so much worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I ran to the shed and grabbed a nylon tow rope and a metal hook. Together, Chloe and I snagged the plastic and hauled it up. It was obscenely heavy, dead weight. Every time it caught on a rock, I prayed the plastic wouldn\u2019t tear. It was coated in a vile, grayish slime that glinted under the porch light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When we finally dragged it over the edge and dropped it onto the wet grass, mom collapsed into an old lawn chair and started frantically whispering the Hail Mary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n None of us wanted to untie the knot. But Caleb was already crouching beside it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, Caleb,\u201d Chloe warned. \u201cDon\u2019t touch it.\u201d He looked up at her with eyes that were thousands of years old. \u201cIt\u2019s always my turn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He dug his small, mud-caked fingers into the knot and ripped the plastic wide open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It wasn\u2019t a body. It was clothes. A tangled, sopping wet pile of women\u2019s clothes: a pair of Levi\u2019s, a floral summer blouse, a bra, socks, and a heavy beige cardigan. They were filthy, covered in dark, rusted stains. Tangled up in the fabric was a plastic hairbrush, a set of house keys, and a silver chain holding a tiny, heart-shaped locket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom stopped praying mid-sentence. She stood up like a sleepwalker, took two steps, and dropped to her knees in the mud. Her shaking hands reached into the muck and pulled out the locket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The yard was dead quiet. She raised her head, and her face was completely hollowed out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI lost this out here\u2026 the night we went looking for you,\u201d she whispered to Chloe. Chloe didn\u2019t blink. \u201cNo, you didn\u2019t.\u201d Mom gripped the silver heart so hard her knuckles turned white. \u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The temperature plummeted. A low, wet murmur started echoing up from the depths of the well. It wasn\u2019t one voice. It was dozens of them\u2014wet, sloshing whispers grinding against each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I backed up. \u201cMom\u2026 what the hell are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When my mother finally spoke, it sounded like every single word was physically tearing her throat apart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour father didn\u2019t want the police snooping around. He said it would ruin our reputation. He told everyone you probably ran off with some punk and you\u2019d come crawling back when you needed cash. But I knew. I knew my girl would never leave without her favorite cardigan. Without her St. Jude medal in her bag. Without saying goodbye to her little sister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe looked like she had stopped breathing entirely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat night,\u201d Mom choked out, \u201cI heard you crying out here in the yard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The pressure in my ears felt like I was deep underwater. I didn\u2019t want to hear the rest. But I was paralyzed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI grabbed a flashlight and came outside,\u201d she sobbed. \u201cYou were sitting right there on the edge of the stones. Weeping. I was so relieved, I ran over to hug you\u2026 but when I grabbed your shoulder and spun you around\u2026 it wasn\u2019t you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb pressed his lips together. He already knew this chapter by heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt was wearing your face,\u201d Mom cried, rocking back and forth. \u201cBut the eyes were wrong. You smelled like the bottom of a swamp. Like dead water. You looked at me and said, \u2018Don\u2019t leave me down there anymore.\u2019 I started screaming bloody murder. Your dad ran out with a baseball bat. He grabbed her by the hair\u2026 and that\u2019s when\u2026 that\u2019s when you walked out from behind the shed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The sledgehammer slipped out of Chloe\u2019s grip and thudded into the mud. I felt the blood drain from my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d I gasped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere were two of you,\u201d Mom wept silently. \u201cIdentical. Both soaking wet. Both screaming. Your dad panicked. He started yelling it was a demon, a skinwalker, that one of you was dead and the other was trying to steal your life. We tried to pull you apart\u2026 and one of you bit my arm to the bone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She rubbed her left forearm, staring at the invisible scar like she could still feel the teeth sinking in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI tripped. My necklace tore off. Your dad grabbed a cinderblock. Everything happened so fast. There was so much screaming, I didn\u2019t know which one of you was begging for your life. And when the splashing stopped\u2026 there was only one of you left standing on the grass.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb spoke up, his voice barely a breeze. \u201cAnd they kept the wrong one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n No one argued with him. Suddenly, a woman\u2019s laughter bubbled up from the well. A long, gargling, drowning sound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My entire body broke out in a cold sweat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe was ghostly white. She stared down at our mother like she was looking at a monster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo you knew,\u201d Chloe rasped. \u201cYou actually knew.\u201d \u201cI couldn\u2019t tell which one was my baby!\u201d Mom wailed into her hands. \u201cSo you dumped her in a hole and capped it?!\u201d \u201cHe said he was going to fix it! He swore he\u2019d come back in the morning with the priest, with ropes\u2026 but around 3 A.M., something started pounding on the back door. It was crying in your exact voice, begging me to let her inside. Your dad lost his mind. He mixed the cement in the dark and capped it right then and there. He made me swear on the Bible we would take it to our graves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe started laughing. It wasn\u2019t funny. It was a dry, jagged sound that kept getting louder until it turned into a sickening, agonizing wail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSeven years,\u201d Chloe screamed at the sky. \u201cSeven years trapped down there in the dark, listening to that thing mimic my voice! Watching it learn how to be me. Stealing my entire life!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb calmly picked up his backpack. \u201cShe\u2019s out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I whipped my head toward the well. The black, oily water had silently surged all the way up to the brim. And right beneath the surface, something was floating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hair. Masses of dark hair fanning out like an ink spill. Then a pale forehead. Two wide-open eyes. And a massive grin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was Chloe. Not the bruised, exhausted Chloe crying in the grass. The other<\/em> one. Dripping wet. Her skin bloated, corpse-white, and stretched painfully tight over her cheekbones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She hovered up out of the water without using her arms, like the current was just presenting her to us. First her head, then her shoulders, then her torso, wrapped in a filthy, tattered white dress I had never seen in her closet. You couldn\u2019t see her legs. They were still submerged, as if she were standing on a mountain of things beneath the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom let out a bloodcurdling shriek. The thing slowly pivoted its neck toward her. \u201cNow you recognize me, Ma,\u201d it purred, in the exact pitch and tone of nineteen-year-old Chloe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The real Chloe stumbled back, crashing into my shoulder. I was losing my mind. They were carbon copies. Not like twins. Identical like a cursed mirror reflection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was only one horrifying difference: the thing from the water never blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb marched forward, placing his tiny body between us and the well. He unzipped his backpack. There were no comic books or toys inside. Just rocks. Dozens of smooth, wet river stones, every single one marked with a date written in black Sharpie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He grabbed one and held it up like a weapon. \u201cDon\u2019t you ever call me your son again,\u201d he told the creature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her grin stretched so wide her skin looked like it might tear. \u201cBut sweetheart, you\u2019re the one who left the door open for me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And right then, it clicked. He wasn\u2019t just a traumatized kid. He was a tether. A human doorway they had spent years prying open to drag this thing to the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe realized it at the exact same second, screaming his name for the first time all night: \u201cCaleb, don\u2019t listen to her!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Too late. The creature casually raised one dripping hand. Caleb went rigid. He took a slow, robotic step toward the well. Then another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I lunged and grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt, but he twisted his head to look at me. His eyes were entirely vacant. Hypnotized. \u201cMy other mommy says there\u2019s still one missing,\u201d he droned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The black water finally breached the rim, spilling over the stones and oozing across the grass like a spreading oil slick. Wherever the water touched, the concrete frosted over and cracked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom scrambled backward into the mud, frantically babbling prayers. The other<\/em> Chloe completely ignored her. She ignored the boy. She locked her unblinking eyes entirely on me<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And what I saw in her dead gaze was infinitely worse than hatred. It was recognition. Like she had been waiting for me to show up to the party this whole time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re the only one left to be opened,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Our house groaned violently behind us. The kitchen window spontaneously shattered inward onto the linoleum. And beneath the rushing water, beneath Mom\u2019s hysterical prayers, I heard something else echoing up from the dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not just one thing. Dozens. Hundreds of wet, pale hands were violently slapping and scratching at the masonry from the inside of the well, fighting each other for their turn to climb to the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Part 3:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe it was Chloe shaking uncontrollably next to me. Maybe it was Mom, sitting in the freezing mud, speed-mumbling prayers so fast they blurred into static. Or maybe it was just me, paralyzed, feeling like my lungs had already filled with swamp water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hands kept clawing their way up. They weren\u2019t illusions or ghosts. They were physical, rotting meat. Waterlogged, bloated fingers\u2014some tiny like children\u2019s, others massive and deformed\u2014all of them smashing against the slick masonry, desperately grabbing for the edge. They had been waiting decades for someone to finally pop the lid off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The freezing black water was already washing over the laces of our shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb was still locked in a trance, dead-center in front of the creature, gripping the Sharpie-dated rock. He stared at her with the tragic, brainwashed loyalty of a victim. The thing from the well\u2014identical to my sister but deeply, fundamentally wrong<\/em>\u2014kept smiling that unblinking smile. Her wet hair clung to her skull, her white dress rippling in the unnatural current pushing up from below, her grin stretched so violently it looked like her jaw might unhinge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re the only one left to be opened,\u201d she repeated, staring right through my soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I tried to backpedal, but the sludge sucked at my shoes. Chloe grabbed my jacket. \u201cDo not answer her.\u201d \u201cWhat the hell is she?!\u201d I croaked, my voice cracking. Chloe shook her head, hyperventilating. \u201cI don\u2019t have a name for her. But it adapts. Down there in the dark, it learned how to wear us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature tilted her head, looking mildly amused. \u201cOh, I learned to do a lot more than just talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She twitched a finger. Caleb immediately marched toward her. Mom screamed his name and scrambled to grab him, but slipped in the muddy water and slammed her chin into the grass. I threw myself forward on pure adrenaline, grabbing the straps of the kid\u2019s backpack, yanking backward with everything I had. Caleb jerked to a halt like he was caught in a tug-of-war between two invisible trucks. He slowly turned his head to look at me. His eyes were completely pitch-black. Not dilated\u2014filled to the brim with dark water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLet go of me,\u201d he commanded in a heavy, distorted voice that definitely didn\u2019t belong to a seven-year-old. \u201cMy mommy is calling me.\u201d \u201cYour real mom is right there!\u201d I screamed in his face, pointing at the terrified, shivering Chloe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature just laughed. It was a soft, pitying chuckle, like a teacher correcting a slow student. \u201cMoms make mistakes, too,\u201d she purred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, something slammed against the inside of the well so hard a brick shattered. One of the hands finally breached the top: grayish-black, emaciated, with jagged, torn fingernails packed with sludge. It clamped onto the rim and started violently hoisting a shoulder out of the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mom let out a primal shriek that rattled my teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That snapped Chloe out of it. She lunged at Caleb, ripped the dated rock out of his fist, and slammed it down onto the concrete pad with all her strength. The stone cracked in half.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb collapsed like his puppet strings had been snipped. He didn\u2019t pass out\u2014he just woke up. He blinked hard, looked around in terror, and started crying like a normal, terrified little boy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The smile instantly vanished from the creature\u2019s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a tiny shift\u2014just a millimeter drop of her lip\u2014but the atmospheric pressure in the yard plummeted. The surging water paused. The clawing hands below froze. The creature glared at the broken stone, looking genuinely irritated for the first time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI told you to leave those in your room,\u201d she hissed at Caleb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He scrambled backward, clinging to Chloe\u2019s leg. \u201cI didn\u2019t want to open the door for you anymore,\u201d he bawled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My sister wrapped her arms around him, refusing to take her eyes off her doppelg\u00e4nger. \u201cWhat are the rocks?\u201d I demanded. Chloe swallowed hard. \u201cThey\u2019re dates.\u201d \u201cDates of what?\u201d She couldn\u2019t say it. Mom did, sobbing from the mud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe days I heard her,\u201d Mom wept. \u201cEvery single day that thing whispered from the yard using your sister\u2019s voice. First it was just at midnight. Then during the day. Then\u2026 it started whispering to the baby as soon as he was brought home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My stomach did a violent flip. \u201cWhat baby?\u201d No one answered. But the math clicked in my head. I looked at Caleb. Then at Chloe. Then at the wet, smiling abomination hovering above the well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, seven years of silence made horrifying sense. I understood why the kid looked so exhausted. I understood why my mom was searching his face for Dad\u2019s features. Caleb wasn\u2019t just weird because he heard voices. He was weird because that thing<\/em> had helped raise him through the floorboards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d I gasped, backing away. \u201cDon\u2019t tell me\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe squeezed her eyes shut. \u201cI was pregnant the night I ran.\u201d Mom let out a devastated wail. \u201cI didn\u2019t know you were carrying a child,\u201d she wept.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNeither did I!\u201d Chloe barked, her voice thick with venom. \u201cI thought if I drove far enough, it would lose the scent! But the second he was born, he started calling me exactly what she<\/em> did. He called me \u2018the other mommy\u2019 before he could even form a sentence. I\u2019d find him sleepwalking, standing at storm drains, staring into swimming pools. And every year, on the anniversary she called out, a river rock would just appear in his bag.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature\u2019s smile returned. \u201cBecause they belong to me,\u201d she said. \u201cEvery date chipped the door open a little wider.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The water began churning violently. The hands in the well went absolutely berserk. A face crested the surface. Then another. They weren\u2019t full heads\u2014just bloated cheeks, foreheads, and gasping mouths, like a dozen drowned victims trapped under ice, fighting for the same breathing hole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe have to cap it again!\u201d I yelled over the noise. Mom let out a hollow, insane laugh. \u201cWith what?! More cement?! We buried her alive once and look what it got us!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause you buried the wrong one,\u201d the creature taunted, her eyes darting between us, soaking up the terror. \u201cAnd because I was never the only one hungry down here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The foundation of our house groaned loudly. The cracks in the cement spider-webbed straight to the back porch. The water gushing from our siding wasn\u2019t just a leak anymore\u2014the house was hemorrhaging. From inside the dark kitchen, something glass smashed on the floor. Then, a voice called out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My<\/em> voice. \u201cMom\u2026?\u201d the voice whimpered from the hallway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I froze. My vocal cords hadn\u2019t moved. The voice drifting out of our house was crystal clear, terrified, and sounded exactly like me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom clamped both hands over her ears. \u201cIt\u2019s starting again,\u201d she shrieked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature looked at me with an expression of pure, toxic maternal affection. \u201cYou learn so fast down there in the dark.\u201d Then, she opened her mouth and spoke with my dead father\u2019s voice: \u201cCome here, Pumpkin.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hadn\u2019t heard that nickname in eight years. My knees literally buckled. It was just a microsecond of weakness, but it was enough. The creature\u2019s eyes lit up like floodlights. It found the nerve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo!\u201d Chloe screamed, violently shaking my shoulder. \u201cDon\u2019t give her an inch!\u201d \u201cWhat are you talking about?!\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t give her a memory! Don\u2019t acknowledge the name! If you react, she latches on!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Too late. I had already felt the gut-punch of my dad\u2019s voice. And the things in the well felt it too. The thrashing intensified. One of the rotting arms lunged completely out of the hole. Another grabbed the hem of the creature\u2019s wet dress. The floodwaters surged to our ankles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb started hyperventilating. \u201cShe\u2019s furious.\u201d \u201cWho?!\u201d I screamed, tired of the riddles. Caleb pointed a shaking finger straight down into the abyss. \u201cThe one at the very bottom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, the water violently bulged upward, like a dam had just ruptured beneath us. The black water cleared for one horrifying second, and I saw the true depth of the well. It wasn\u2019t just a hole in a Salem backyard. It was a massive, ancient, bottomless cylinder plunging straight into hell. The stone walls were littered with rusted meat hooks, rotting rags, clumps of hair, and bones. And on every single jutting rock, there were faces. Hundreds of human faces, fused into the masonry like the stone had melted over them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature flinched and backed away from the edge. For the first time, she looked genuinely panicked. \u201cNo,\u201d she hissed into the water. \u201cIt\u2019s not time yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hands hesitated, half-obeying her. She wasn\u2019t the boss of this nightmare. She was just the lucky scout that figured out how to unlock the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb started convulsing, clutching his stomach. He grabbed my jacket. \u201cShe says it\u2019s Grandma Eleanor\u2019s turn!\u201d Mom screamed, \u201cNo, God please, no!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A new voice drifted out of the shattered kitchen window. It was Grandma Eleanor, who died of a stroke eleven years ago. \u201cGirls,\u201d she called out, sweet and warm, exactly how she sounded when she baked cookies. \u201cCome inside, you\u2019ll catch a cold.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mom stood up like a zombie. Her eyes completely glazed over, she started taking slow, shuffling steps toward the back door, trudging through the freezing floodwater like she was in a trance. I tackled her arm before she reached the porch. \u201cMom, stop!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She blinked, looking at me like I was a total stranger. \u201cThat was your grandmother,\u201d she whispered. \u201cShe\u2019s in the kitchen.\u201d \u201cThat is not her!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature sneered at me. \u201cLet her go. I\u2019ve been calling her name for a decade.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe snapped. I don\u2019t know where the adrenaline came from, but she planted her boots in the mud, shoving herself between the creature and our mother. Her fear was completely gone. Only pure, homicidal rage was left. \u201cYou are not taking my family!\u201d Chloe roared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature gave her a tired, condescending smile. \u201cDo you really think you\u2019re still in charge?\u201d She casually pointed a wet finger at Caleb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The kid\u2019s back arched, and he let out a horrible, gagging scream. He dropped to all fours and started violently vomiting. But it wasn\u2019t food. It was thick, black swamp water, packed with sludge and dead leaves. Mom shrieked. I dropped down to hold his shoulders, and heard a heavy thud<\/em> as something solid hit the grass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A rock. Then another. And another. Smooth, wet river stones, all marked with Sharpie dates. The backpack had never been holding them. They were inside him the whole time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe dropped into the mud, frantically sweeping the filth out of his mouth, sobbing hysterically, screaming his name. The creature watched the horror show with utter boredom, like waiting for a microwave to beep. \u201cOnce he pukes up the last one,\u201d she said plainly, \u201che belongs to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A wave of pure, white-hot rage blinded me. I grabbed the heavy masonry sledgehammer out of the mud. \u201cAim low,\u201d Chloe grunted, not looking up from Caleb. \u201cDon\u2019t hit the head.\u201d I didn\u2019t know if she meant the monster or the well, but I didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I charged. The creature barely turned her head as I swung the sledgehammer like a baseball bat. I didn\u2019t aim for her ribs. I aimed straight for the cracked concrete rim she was standing on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n CRACK.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The stone shattered into dust. The footing gave way, and the creature lost her balance, teetering backward over the hole. Her arrogant smile vanished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou stupid bitch,\u201d she gurgled, her voice suddenly sounding like three old women drowning at once. She flailed her arms to grab my jacket, but she was too late. The hands in the dark found her. One clamped around her ankle. Another dug into her wrist. Three more tangled in her white dress. They yanked hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She shrieked. It wasn\u2019t Chloe\u2019s voice anymore. It was a chorus of damned souls. \u201cDo not pull me back!\u201d she roared into the pit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The faces fused into the well\u2019s walls strained upward, starving for her. One opened its eyes\u2014they were milk-white. Another had its lips stitched shut with fishing line. A third turned to look at me, and for a split second, I saw my own face<\/em> smiling back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature fought with demonic strength, tearing her own fingernails off on the stonework. One of her flailing hands blindly grabbed Caleb\u2019s ankle. The kid screamed. Chloe tackled him backward into the mud. I hoisted the sledgehammer and brought it down square on the creature\u2019s wrist. The bones crushed. Her grip released. The things at the bottom capitalized, violently dragging her down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She fell backward into the abyss. Her legs, her torso, her neck vanished into the dark. Her face was the last thing I saw, glaring up at me with an ancient, apocalyptic hatred. \u201cYou woke the mother,\u201d she spat. Then, she was swallowed by the black water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Everything went off like a bomb. The water exploded upward like a geyser, blasting us backward into the mud. The rotting hands thrashed wildly at the air. The brick wall of our house cracked down the middle with a deafening boom. From the kitchen, the refrigerator crashed completely through the floorboards. Caleb heaved up the final rock and passed out cold in Chloe\u2019s arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then, from the bottom of the well, a new voice echoed up. It wasn\u2019t mimicking anyone. It wasn\u2019t male or female. It was a deep, tectonic rumble that vibrated in my teeth, like the earth itself was speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe first one is missing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom stopped praying. She sat up in the mud, her jaw hanging open. \u201cThe first what?\u201d she whimpered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The entity answered, using my exact voice: \u201cThe firstborn daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nobody needed to explain who it meant. Me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Instantly, the floodwaters reversed. The water didn\u2019t drain back into the hole\u2014it violently rushed toward the house, ripping the back door off its hinges, like the well was hunting me. The yard was left coated in foul mud, river stones, and deep gouges from human fingernails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe staggered to her feet, hauling the unconscious kid over her shoulder. \u201cWe have to run. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRun where?!\u201d I screamed. \u201cWe\u2019re just leaving this open?!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom didn\u2019t move. She was staring at the muddy rim of the well. \u201cMom, get up!\u201d I yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She slowly raised a trembling finger, pointing at the sludge near the broken edge. Half-buried in the muck, right where the creature had been standing, was a silver necklace. It wasn\u2019t her heart locket. It was a tiny, rusted chain with a small teddy bear charm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My lungs completely locked up. I had that exact same necklace. I lost it when I was six years old. The night I fell down the old abandoned well two streets over, playing hide-and-seek. The night everyone swore my dad pulled me out just in time. The night I have absolutely zero memory of.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The primordial voice echoed from the well one last time. It was using my voice again. But it was the high-pitched, innocent voice of a terrified six-year-old girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou took a really long time to come back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And beneath that voice, climbing up from deeper than all the other rotting corpses\u2026 a tiny, soaking wet head breached the surface. Two small, pale hands grabbed the stone rim. And a pair of eyes, completely identical to mine, stared right at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mom still had her hand clamped over her mouth, taking short, ragged breaths. She stared at the boy as if his features might physically rearrange themselves if she just looked hard enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But they didn\u2019t. The longer she stared, the more my dad bled through his face: the bridge of his nose, the slight droop of his left eyelid, that dead-serious expression that just looked entirely wrong on a kid\u2014like he had borrowed it from an old man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe reacted first. She dropped to her knees in front of him and grabbed his face with both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI told you never to talk about her,\u201d she hissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The boy didn\u2019t flinch. He just kept hugging that faded backpack tight to his chest. \u201cShe found us,\u201d he replied deadpan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The way he said it made my eyes dart toward the backyard against my will. The curtains were drawn, but I could still feel it\u2014that creeping sensation of someone standing just on the other side of the glass, watching our kitchen with endless patience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom stumbled back a step. \u201cWhat does he mean by \u2018other mommy\u2019?\u201d she asked, her voice sounding frail and ancient. \u201cChloe\u2026 what the hell did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe shot up so fast her chair clattered to the linoleum. \u201cI didn\u2019t do anything! I tried to get out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGet out of where?\u201d I demanded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her eyes darted to the backyard window. Then to the ceiling. Then to the hallway door. Like she was doing the math on exactly how much time we had left before whatever was out there decided to invite itself in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can\u2019t explain it all up here,\u201d she panted. \u201cThe well comes first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom started shaking her head, faster and faster. \u201cNo. No, absolutely not. Your father capped that thing for a reason. We already opened it once that night and it was a mistake. We prayed, we brought the priest out here, we poured quicklime down there, we already\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause she wasn\u2019t alone down there!\u201d Chloe interrupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Those words sucked all the air out of the room. Even the rattling ceiling fan seemed to stall out. I felt a sickening drop in my gut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWho wasn\u2019t alone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe looked at me like I was walking into the middle of a movie. \u201cI wasn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A faint noise scraped from the backyard. It wasn\u2019t a knock. It was a wet squeal, like waterlogged fingers dragging across solid concrete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom let out a whimper and hurriedly crossed herself. \u201cDon\u2019t touch that curtain,\u201d she pleaded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hadn\u2019t planned on it, but my body was running on terrifying autopilot. I took a step. Then another. I pinched the fabric with two trembling fingers and pulled it back just an inch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t see anything out there. Just our pitch-black Salem yard, the rusted clothesline, and way in the back, the pale gray circle of the well under its cracked concrete slab.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But there was something else in the reflection of the glass. A silhouette standing right behind me in the kitchen. A woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For a split second, I thought it was Chloe\u2014until I realized Chloe was still over by the dining table. The figure in the glass was taller. Her hair was plastered flat against her skull like she had just been dragged from a lake, and she was clutching something small in her hand. A little doll.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I spun around. Nothing. Just the dim kitchen, my terrified mother, Chloe holding her breath, and the boy\u2014who hadn\u2019t moved an inch, totally unfazed by the phantom in the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe\u2019s here,\u201d the boy stated flatly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, I saw a raw, primal desperation in them I hadn\u2019t seen since we were kids. \u201cI need a sledgehammer. A heavy shovel. Whatever we\u2019ve got in the garage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTo smash the concrete cap?\u201d I asked. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom let out a cracked, hysterical little laugh. \u201cAnd then what? What are you hoping to fish out of there? Your own bones? Another lie? Because that\u2019s all you brought home, isn\u2019t it? Seven years MIA, and you walk in with a strange kid and ghost stories.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe went rigid. She didn\u2019t snap back right away. Her eyes flared with a mix of fury, crushing guilt, and absolute exhaustion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMom, I was nineteen when I left,\u201d she said, her voice dropping dangerously low. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to believe a word I say. But I swear to God, if we don\u2019t bust that well open tonight, by tomorrow morning she won\u2019t know the difference between me and him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The boy slowly looked up. \u201cOr you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nobody breathed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I went out to the side shed to grab the gardening spade and my dad\u2019s old masonry sledgehammer. When I picked them up, I almost dropped them. The heavy iron tools were soaking wet. Not just damp\u2014dripping. Like someone had held them underwater just seconds before I walked in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I carried them back to the kitchen in dead silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe grabbed the sledgehammer. Her hands were shaking so violently I thought she\u2019d drop it on her foot. \u201cYou\u2019re staying here,\u201d she ordered the boy. \u201cNo, I\u2019m not,\u201d he said. \u201cYes, you are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked at her with an unbearable, adult emptiness. \u201cIf you leave me inside alone, she\u2019ll start whispering to me again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom choked back a sob and grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing. I honestly didn\u2019t know what terrified me more: the pitch-black yard, the insane things Chloe was saying, or the chillingly casual way the kid was talking about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n All four of us went out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I pushed the back door open, and the night air hit us. It smelled heavily of swampy, wet earth, even though it hadn\u2019t rained in weeks. The yard was freezing\u2014way colder than Salem should be this time of year. The chill seeped right through the rubber soles of my Converse and crawled up my shins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The well was right where it had always been. A stone circle capped with the sloppy, uneven concrete pad my dad had poured years ago. The weeds growing around its base were completely white, drained of color like they\u2019d never seen the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe didn\u2019t march right up to it. She scanned the perimeter: the wooden fence, the roofline, the shed, the kitchen window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf she speaks to you, ignore her,\u201d Chloe whispered. \u201cWho?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She didn\u2019t answer. She jammed the spade into a hairline fracture in the concrete and shoved her weight onto the handle. It didn\u2019t budge. I grabbed on to help her. Straining together, we barely managed to pry up a jagged chunk of cement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There wasn\u2019t dirt underneath. There was a second layer. Wood. Heavy, black timber, swollen and rotting from moisture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWho the hell put wood under the cement?\u201d I panted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom spoke up from a few feet away, wrapping her arms around herself. \u201cYour father.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I turned to her. \u201cDad actually climbed down there?\u201d Mom couldn\u2019t make herself answer. But the boy, Caleb, did. \u201cHe went down twice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The silence in the yard was so absolute I could hear the faint hum of a streetlamp two blocks away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe adjusted her grip on the sledgehammer and brought it down hard on the rotting wood. Crack.<\/em> She swung again. Crack.<\/em> On the third strike, something pounded back. From underneath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It wasn\u2019t an echo. It was a knock. An answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom shrieked and covered her ears. I stumbled backward into the wet grass. Caleb just stood there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cKeep going,\u201d he said. It wasn\u2019t a request. It was an order.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe hoisted the hammer and smashed it down one last time. The wood splintered and caved in. The stench hit us instantly. It wasn\u2019t just old mildew. It was the smell of decades-old stagnant water, black mold, rotting lilies, and a sickly-sweet metallic odor that coated the back of my throat like I was tasting it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The mouth of the well was exposed. Wide open. Unnaturally black.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I remembered it being a narrow, decorative thing from before the city laid plumbing. But the hole gaping in front of us looked way too massive to exist in our backyard. The inner walls were stacked fieldstone, and on the rocks near the top, I could clearly see deep, vertical gouges\u2014like someone had frantically dragged bare fingernails all the way up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe dropped to her knees at the edge and yelled down into the dark: \u201cI came for him!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nothing answered. Just the wet, hollow echo of her own voice fading into the abyss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom grabbed my arm, digging her nails in. \u201cWe never should have opened it,\u201d she sobbed. \u201cLook at the bricks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked where she was pointing. On the back wall of our house, directly facing the well, water was bleeding through the mortar. Thick, dark streams were trickling down the side of the siding. Then more. It looked like there was an entire flooded lake trapped just behind our drywall, pushing to get out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb dropped his faded backpack onto the mud. \u201cWe have to pull the bag out first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I spun around. \u201cWhat bag?\u201d He pointed down into the pitch black. I leaned over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Snagged on a jagged rock about ten feet down was a heavy-duty black contractor bag. It was bloated, bobbing slightly in the dark, oily water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I gagged. \u201cHell no,\u201d I backed away. \u201cI am absolutely not touching that.\u201d Chloe looked up at me. For the first time all night, the tough shell vanished. She sounded exactly like the big sister I grew up with. \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That somehow made it so much worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I ran to the shed and grabbed a nylon tow rope and a metal hook. Together, Chloe and I snagged the plastic and hauled it up. It was obscenely heavy, dead weight. Every time it caught on a rock, I prayed the plastic wouldn\u2019t tear. It was coated in a vile, grayish slime that glinted under the porch light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When we finally dragged it over the edge and dropped it onto the wet grass, mom collapsed into an old lawn chair and started frantically whispering the Hail Mary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n None of us wanted to untie the knot. But Caleb was already crouching beside it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, Caleb,\u201d Chloe warned. \u201cDon\u2019t touch it.\u201d He looked up at her with eyes that were thousands of years old. \u201cIt\u2019s always my turn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He dug his small, mud-caked fingers into the knot and ripped the plastic wide open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It wasn\u2019t a body. It was clothes. A tangled, sopping wet pile of women\u2019s clothes: a pair of Levi\u2019s, a floral summer blouse, a bra, socks, and a heavy beige cardigan. They were filthy, covered in dark, rusted stains. Tangled up in the fabric was a plastic hairbrush, a set of house keys, and a silver chain holding a tiny, heart-shaped locket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom stopped praying mid-sentence. She stood up like a sleepwalker, took two steps, and dropped to her knees in the mud. Her shaking hands reached into the muck and pulled out the locket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The yard was dead quiet. She raised her head, and her face was completely hollowed out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI lost this out here\u2026 the night we went looking for you,\u201d she whispered to Chloe. Chloe didn\u2019t blink. \u201cNo, you didn\u2019t.\u201d Mom gripped the silver heart so hard her knuckles turned white. \u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The temperature plummeted. A low, wet murmur started echoing up from the depths of the well. It wasn\u2019t one voice. It was dozens of them\u2014wet, sloshing whispers grinding against each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I backed up. \u201cMom\u2026 what the hell are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When my mother finally spoke, it sounded like every single word was physically tearing her throat apart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour father didn\u2019t want the police snooping around. He said it would ruin our reputation. He told everyone you probably ran off with some punk and you\u2019d come crawling back when you needed cash. But I knew. I knew my girl would never leave without her favorite cardigan. Without her St. Jude medal in her bag. Without saying goodbye to her little sister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe looked like she had stopped breathing entirely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat night,\u201d Mom choked out, \u201cI heard you crying out here in the yard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The pressure in my ears felt like I was deep underwater. I didn\u2019t want to hear the rest. But I was paralyzed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI grabbed a flashlight and came outside,\u201d she sobbed. \u201cYou were sitting right there on the edge of the stones. Weeping. I was so relieved, I ran over to hug you\u2026 but when I grabbed your shoulder and spun you around\u2026 it wasn\u2019t you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb pressed his lips together. He already knew this chapter by heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt was wearing your face,\u201d Mom cried, rocking back and forth. \u201cBut the eyes were wrong. You smelled like the bottom of a swamp. Like dead water. You looked at me and said, \u2018Don\u2019t leave me down there anymore.\u2019 I started screaming bloody murder. Your dad ran out with a baseball bat. He grabbed her by the hair\u2026 and that\u2019s when\u2026 that\u2019s when you walked out from behind the shed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The sledgehammer slipped out of Chloe\u2019s grip and thudded into the mud. I felt the blood drain from my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d I gasped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere were two of you,\u201d Mom wept silently. \u201cIdentical. Both soaking wet. Both screaming. Your dad panicked. He started yelling it was a demon, a skinwalker, that one of you was dead and the other was trying to steal your life. We tried to pull you apart\u2026 and one of you bit my arm to the bone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She rubbed her left forearm, staring at the invisible scar like she could still feel the teeth sinking in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI tripped. My necklace tore off. Your dad grabbed a cinderblock. Everything happened so fast. There was so much screaming, I didn\u2019t know which one of you was begging for your life. And when the splashing stopped\u2026 there was only one of you left standing on the grass.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb spoke up, his voice barely a breeze. \u201cAnd they kept the wrong one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n No one argued with him. Suddenly, a woman\u2019s laughter bubbled up from the well. A long, gargling, drowning sound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My entire body broke out in a cold sweat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe was ghostly white. She stared down at our mother like she was looking at a monster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo you knew,\u201d Chloe rasped. \u201cYou actually knew.\u201d \u201cI couldn\u2019t tell which one was my baby!\u201d Mom wailed into her hands. \u201cSo you dumped her in a hole and capped it?!\u201d \u201cHe said he was going to fix it! He swore he\u2019d come back in the morning with the priest, with ropes\u2026 but around 3 A.M., something started pounding on the back door. It was crying in your exact voice, begging me to let her inside. Your dad lost his mind. He mixed the cement in the dark and capped it right then and there. He made me swear on the Bible we would take it to our graves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe started laughing. It wasn\u2019t funny. It was a dry, jagged sound that kept getting louder until it turned into a sickening, agonizing wail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSeven years,\u201d Chloe screamed at the sky. \u201cSeven years trapped down there in the dark, listening to that thing mimic my voice! Watching it learn how to be me. Stealing my entire life!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb calmly picked up his backpack. \u201cShe\u2019s out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I whipped my head toward the well. The black, oily water had silently surged all the way up to the brim. And right beneath the surface, something was floating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hair. Masses of dark hair fanning out like an ink spill. Then a pale forehead. Two wide-open eyes. And a massive grin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was Chloe. Not the bruised, exhausted Chloe crying in the grass. The other<\/em> one. Dripping wet. Her skin bloated, corpse-white, and stretched painfully tight over her cheekbones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She hovered up out of the water without using her arms, like the current was just presenting her to us. First her head, then her shoulders, then her torso, wrapped in a filthy, tattered white dress I had never seen in her closet. You couldn\u2019t see her legs. They were still submerged, as if she were standing on a mountain of things beneath the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom let out a bloodcurdling shriek. The thing slowly pivoted its neck toward her. \u201cNow you recognize me, Ma,\u201d it purred, in the exact pitch and tone of nineteen-year-old Chloe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The real Chloe stumbled back, crashing into my shoulder. I was losing my mind. They were carbon copies. Not like twins. Identical like a cursed mirror reflection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was only one horrifying difference: the thing from the water never blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb marched forward, placing his tiny body between us and the well. He unzipped his backpack. There were no comic books or toys inside. Just rocks. Dozens of smooth, wet river stones, every single one marked with a date written in black Sharpie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He grabbed one and held it up like a weapon. \u201cDon\u2019t you ever call me your son again,\u201d he told the creature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her grin stretched so wide her skin looked like it might tear. \u201cBut sweetheart, you\u2019re the one who left the door open for me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And right then, it clicked. He wasn\u2019t just a traumatized kid. He was a tether. A human doorway they had spent years prying open to drag this thing to the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe realized it at the exact same second, screaming his name for the first time all night: \u201cCaleb, don\u2019t listen to her!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Too late. The creature casually raised one dripping hand. Caleb went rigid. He took a slow, robotic step toward the well. Then another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I lunged and grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt, but he twisted his head to look at me. His eyes were entirely vacant. Hypnotized. \u201cMy other mommy says there\u2019s still one missing,\u201d he droned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The black water finally breached the rim, spilling over the stones and oozing across the grass like a spreading oil slick. Wherever the water touched, the concrete frosted over and cracked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom scrambled backward into the mud, frantically babbling prayers. The other<\/em> Chloe completely ignored her. She ignored the boy. She locked her unblinking eyes entirely on me<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And what I saw in her dead gaze was infinitely worse than hatred. It was recognition. Like she had been waiting for me to show up to the party this whole time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re the only one left to be opened,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Our house groaned violently behind us. The kitchen window spontaneously shattered inward onto the linoleum. And beneath the rushing water, beneath Mom\u2019s hysterical prayers, I heard something else echoing up from the dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not just one thing. Dozens. Hundreds of wet, pale hands were violently slapping and scratching at the masonry from the inside of the well, fighting each other for their turn to climb to the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Part 3:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe it was Chloe shaking uncontrollably next to me. Maybe it was Mom, sitting in the freezing mud, speed-mumbling prayers so fast they blurred into static. Or maybe it was just me, paralyzed, feeling like my lungs had already filled with swamp water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hands kept clawing their way up. They weren\u2019t illusions or ghosts. They were physical, rotting meat. Waterlogged, bloated fingers\u2014some tiny like children\u2019s, others massive and deformed\u2014all of them smashing against the slick masonry, desperately grabbing for the edge. They had been waiting decades for someone to finally pop the lid off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The freezing black water was already washing over the laces of our shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb was still locked in a trance, dead-center in front of the creature, gripping the Sharpie-dated rock. He stared at her with the tragic, brainwashed loyalty of a victim. The thing from the well\u2014identical to my sister but deeply, fundamentally wrong<\/em>\u2014kept smiling that unblinking smile. Her wet hair clung to her skull, her white dress rippling in the unnatural current pushing up from below, her grin stretched so violently it looked like her jaw might unhinge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re the only one left to be opened,\u201d she repeated, staring right through my soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I tried to backpedal, but the sludge sucked at my shoes. Chloe grabbed my jacket. \u201cDo not answer her.\u201d \u201cWhat the hell is she?!\u201d I croaked, my voice cracking. Chloe shook her head, hyperventilating. \u201cI don\u2019t have a name for her. But it adapts. Down there in the dark, it learned how to wear us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature tilted her head, looking mildly amused. \u201cOh, I learned to do a lot more than just talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She twitched a finger. Caleb immediately marched toward her. Mom screamed his name and scrambled to grab him, but slipped in the muddy water and slammed her chin into the grass. I threw myself forward on pure adrenaline, grabbing the straps of the kid\u2019s backpack, yanking backward with everything I had. Caleb jerked to a halt like he was caught in a tug-of-war between two invisible trucks. He slowly turned his head to look at me. His eyes were completely pitch-black. Not dilated\u2014filled to the brim with dark water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLet go of me,\u201d he commanded in a heavy, distorted voice that definitely didn\u2019t belong to a seven-year-old. \u201cMy mommy is calling me.\u201d \u201cYour real mom is right there!\u201d I screamed in his face, pointing at the terrified, shivering Chloe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature just laughed. It was a soft, pitying chuckle, like a teacher correcting a slow student. \u201cMoms make mistakes, too,\u201d she purred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, something slammed against the inside of the well so hard a brick shattered. One of the hands finally breached the top: grayish-black, emaciated, with jagged, torn fingernails packed with sludge. It clamped onto the rim and started violently hoisting a shoulder out of the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mom let out a primal shriek that rattled my teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That snapped Chloe out of it. She lunged at Caleb, ripped the dated rock out of his fist, and slammed it down onto the concrete pad with all her strength. The stone cracked in half.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb collapsed like his puppet strings had been snipped. He didn\u2019t pass out\u2014he just woke up. He blinked hard, looked around in terror, and started crying like a normal, terrified little boy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The smile instantly vanished from the creature\u2019s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a tiny shift\u2014just a millimeter drop of her lip\u2014but the atmospheric pressure in the yard plummeted. The surging water paused. The clawing hands below froze. The creature glared at the broken stone, looking genuinely irritated for the first time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI told you to leave those in your room,\u201d she hissed at Caleb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He scrambled backward, clinging to Chloe\u2019s leg. \u201cI didn\u2019t want to open the door for you anymore,\u201d he bawled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My sister wrapped her arms around him, refusing to take her eyes off her doppelg\u00e4nger. \u201cWhat are the rocks?\u201d I demanded. Chloe swallowed hard. \u201cThey\u2019re dates.\u201d \u201cDates of what?\u201d She couldn\u2019t say it. Mom did, sobbing from the mud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe days I heard her,\u201d Mom wept. \u201cEvery single day that thing whispered from the yard using your sister\u2019s voice. First it was just at midnight. Then during the day. Then\u2026 it started whispering to the baby as soon as he was brought home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My stomach did a violent flip. \u201cWhat baby?\u201d No one answered. But the math clicked in my head. I looked at Caleb. Then at Chloe. Then at the wet, smiling abomination hovering above the well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, seven years of silence made horrifying sense. I understood why the kid looked so exhausted. I understood why my mom was searching his face for Dad\u2019s features. Caleb wasn\u2019t just weird because he heard voices. He was weird because that thing<\/em> had helped raise him through the floorboards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d I gasped, backing away. \u201cDon\u2019t tell me\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe squeezed her eyes shut. \u201cI was pregnant the night I ran.\u201d Mom let out a devastated wail. \u201cI didn\u2019t know you were carrying a child,\u201d she wept.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNeither did I!\u201d Chloe barked, her voice thick with venom. \u201cI thought if I drove far enough, it would lose the scent! But the second he was born, he started calling me exactly what she<\/em> did. He called me \u2018the other mommy\u2019 before he could even form a sentence. I\u2019d find him sleepwalking, standing at storm drains, staring into swimming pools. And every year, on the anniversary she called out, a river rock would just appear in his bag.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature\u2019s smile returned. \u201cBecause they belong to me,\u201d she said. \u201cEvery date chipped the door open a little wider.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The water began churning violently. The hands in the well went absolutely berserk. A face crested the surface. Then another. They weren\u2019t full heads\u2014just bloated cheeks, foreheads, and gasping mouths, like a dozen drowned victims trapped under ice, fighting for the same breathing hole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe have to cap it again!\u201d I yelled over the noise. Mom let out a hollow, insane laugh. \u201cWith what?! More cement?! We buried her alive once and look what it got us!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause you buried the wrong one,\u201d the creature taunted, her eyes darting between us, soaking up the terror. \u201cAnd because I was never the only one hungry down here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The foundation of our house groaned loudly. The cracks in the cement spider-webbed straight to the back porch. The water gushing from our siding wasn\u2019t just a leak anymore\u2014the house was hemorrhaging. From inside the dark kitchen, something glass smashed on the floor. Then, a voice called out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My<\/em> voice. \u201cMom\u2026?\u201d the voice whimpered from the hallway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I froze. My vocal cords hadn\u2019t moved. The voice drifting out of our house was crystal clear, terrified, and sounded exactly like me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom clamped both hands over her ears. \u201cIt\u2019s starting again,\u201d she shrieked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature looked at me with an expression of pure, toxic maternal affection. \u201cYou learn so fast down there in the dark.\u201d Then, she opened her mouth and spoke with my dead father\u2019s voice: \u201cCome here, Pumpkin.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hadn\u2019t heard that nickname in eight years. My knees literally buckled. It was just a microsecond of weakness, but it was enough. The creature\u2019s eyes lit up like floodlights. It found the nerve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo!\u201d Chloe screamed, violently shaking my shoulder. \u201cDon\u2019t give her an inch!\u201d \u201cWhat are you talking about?!\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t give her a memory! Don\u2019t acknowledge the name! If you react, she latches on!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Too late. I had already felt the gut-punch of my dad\u2019s voice. And the things in the well felt it too. The thrashing intensified. One of the rotting arms lunged completely out of the hole. Another grabbed the hem of the creature\u2019s wet dress. The floodwaters surged to our ankles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb started hyperventilating. \u201cShe\u2019s furious.\u201d \u201cWho?!\u201d I screamed, tired of the riddles. Caleb pointed a shaking finger straight down into the abyss. \u201cThe one at the very bottom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, the water violently bulged upward, like a dam had just ruptured beneath us. The black water cleared for one horrifying second, and I saw the true depth of the well. It wasn\u2019t just a hole in a Salem backyard. It was a massive, ancient, bottomless cylinder plunging straight into hell. The stone walls were littered with rusted meat hooks, rotting rags, clumps of hair, and bones. And on every single jutting rock, there were faces. Hundreds of human faces, fused into the masonry like the stone had melted over them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature flinched and backed away from the edge. For the first time, she looked genuinely panicked. \u201cNo,\u201d she hissed into the water. \u201cIt\u2019s not time yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hands hesitated, half-obeying her. She wasn\u2019t the boss of this nightmare. She was just the lucky scout that figured out how to unlock the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Caleb started convulsing, clutching his stomach. He grabbed my jacket. \u201cShe says it\u2019s Grandma Eleanor\u2019s turn!\u201d Mom screamed, \u201cNo, God please, no!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A new voice drifted out of the shattered kitchen window. It was Grandma Eleanor, who died of a stroke eleven years ago. \u201cGirls,\u201d she called out, sweet and warm, exactly how she sounded when she baked cookies. \u201cCome inside, you\u2019ll catch a cold.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mom stood up like a zombie. Her eyes completely glazed over, she started taking slow, shuffling steps toward the back door, trudging through the freezing floodwater like she was in a trance. I tackled her arm before she reached the porch. \u201cMom, stop!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She blinked, looking at me like I was a total stranger. \u201cThat was your grandmother,\u201d she whispered. \u201cShe\u2019s in the kitchen.\u201d \u201cThat is not her!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature sneered at me. \u201cLet her go. I\u2019ve been calling her name for a decade.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe snapped. I don\u2019t know where the adrenaline came from, but she planted her boots in the mud, shoving herself between the creature and our mother. Her fear was completely gone. Only pure, homicidal rage was left. \u201cYou are not taking my family!\u201d Chloe roared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature gave her a tired, condescending smile. \u201cDo you really think you\u2019re still in charge?\u201d She casually pointed a wet finger at Caleb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The kid\u2019s back arched, and he let out a horrible, gagging scream. He dropped to all fours and started violently vomiting. But it wasn\u2019t food. It was thick, black swamp water, packed with sludge and dead leaves. Mom shrieked. I dropped down to hold his shoulders, and heard a heavy thud<\/em> as something solid hit the grass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A rock. Then another. And another. Smooth, wet river stones, all marked with Sharpie dates. The backpack had never been holding them. They were inside him the whole time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe dropped into the mud, frantically sweeping the filth out of his mouth, sobbing hysterically, screaming his name. The creature watched the horror show with utter boredom, like waiting for a microwave to beep. \u201cOnce he pukes up the last one,\u201d she said plainly, \u201che belongs to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A wave of pure, white-hot rage blinded me. I grabbed the heavy masonry sledgehammer out of the mud. \u201cAim low,\u201d Chloe grunted, not looking up from Caleb. \u201cDon\u2019t hit the head.\u201d I didn\u2019t know if she meant the monster or the well, but I didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I charged. The creature barely turned her head as I swung the sledgehammer like a baseball bat. I didn\u2019t aim for her ribs. I aimed straight for the cracked concrete rim she was standing on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n CRACK.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The stone shattered into dust. The footing gave way, and the creature lost her balance, teetering backward over the hole. Her arrogant smile vanished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou stupid bitch,\u201d she gurgled, her voice suddenly sounding like three old women drowning at once. She flailed her arms to grab my jacket, but she was too late. The hands in the dark found her. One clamped around her ankle. Another dug into her wrist. Three more tangled in her white dress. They yanked hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She shrieked. It wasn\u2019t Chloe\u2019s voice anymore. It was a chorus of damned souls. \u201cDo not pull me back!\u201d she roared into the pit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The faces fused into the well\u2019s walls strained upward, starving for her. One opened its eyes\u2014they were milk-white. Another had its lips stitched shut with fishing line. A third turned to look at me, and for a split second, I saw my own face<\/em> smiling back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The creature fought with demonic strength, tearing her own fingernails off on the stonework. One of her flailing hands blindly grabbed Caleb\u2019s ankle. The kid screamed. Chloe tackled him backward into the mud. I hoisted the sledgehammer and brought it down square on the creature\u2019s wrist. The bones crushed. Her grip released. The things at the bottom capitalized, violently dragging her down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She fell backward into the abyss. Her legs, her torso, her neck vanished into the dark. Her face was the last thing I saw, glaring up at me with an ancient, apocalyptic hatred. \u201cYou woke the mother,\u201d she spat. Then, she was swallowed by the black water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Everything went off like a bomb. The water exploded upward like a geyser, blasting us backward into the mud. The rotting hands thrashed wildly at the air. The brick wall of our house cracked down the middle with a deafening boom. From the kitchen, the refrigerator crashed completely through the floorboards. Caleb heaved up the final rock and passed out cold in Chloe\u2019s arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then, from the bottom of the well, a new voice echoed up. It wasn\u2019t mimicking anyone. It wasn\u2019t male or female. It was a deep, tectonic rumble that vibrated in my teeth, like the earth itself was speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe first one is missing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom stopped praying. She sat up in the mud, her jaw hanging open. \u201cThe first what?\u201d she whimpered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The entity answered, using my exact voice: \u201cThe firstborn daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nobody needed to explain who it meant. Me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Instantly, the floodwaters reversed. The water didn\u2019t drain back into the hole\u2014it violently rushed toward the house, ripping the back door off its hinges, like the well was hunting me. The yard was left coated in foul mud, river stones, and deep gouges from human fingernails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe staggered to her feet, hauling the unconscious kid over her shoulder. \u201cWe have to run. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRun where?!\u201d I screamed. \u201cWe\u2019re just leaving this open?!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom didn\u2019t move. She was staring at the muddy rim of the well. \u201cMom, get up!\u201d I yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She slowly raised a trembling finger, pointing at the sludge near the broken edge. Half-buried in the muck, right where the creature had been standing, was a silver necklace. It wasn\u2019t her heart locket. It was a tiny, rusted chain with a small teddy bear charm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My lungs completely locked up. I had that exact same necklace. I lost it when I was six years old. The night I fell down the old abandoned well two streets over, playing hide-and-seek. The night everyone swore my dad pulled me out just in time. The night I have absolutely zero memory of.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The primordial voice echoed from the well one last time. It was using my voice again. But it was the high-pitched, innocent voice of a terrified six-year-old girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou took a really long time to come back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And beneath that voice, climbing up from deeper than all the other rotting corpses\u2026 a tiny, soaking wet head breached the surface. Two small, pale hands grabbed the stone rim. And a pair of eyes, completely identical to mine, stared right at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Related Articles<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My sister vanished seven years ago, and last night she knocked on our front door again\u2026 but she didn\u2019t come alone. The most terrifying part wasn\u2019t seeing… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3213","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3213","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3213"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3213\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3237,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3213\/revisions\/3237"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3213"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3213"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3213"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Related ArticlesMy sister vanished seven years ago, and last night she knocked on our front door again\u2026 but she didn\u2019t come alone. The most terrifying part wasn\u2019t seeing her alive, but hearing her say that we never should have opened the well in the backyard.<\/h2>\n\n\n\n