Chapter 1 : The Storeroom

After Dad passed away, everything in the house changed.

Not in a big, obvious way — the walls were still the same, the rooms still there — but it felt empty. Quiet. The kind of quiet that made your chest hurt.

We lived on the first floor of a two-story house. Below us was another family, and above, a terrace. At the far corner of that terrace was a storeroom. It had always been there — old, kind of rusty — but none of us really went in.

Only Dad did.

Sometimes, he’d take my brother along too. Just the two of them. Never me, never my mom or my sister. We never asked. It was just something they did.

But after Dad died, the storeroom felt even more… off. My brother was the only one who visited it now. He didn’t talk about it. He just went up there sometimes and came back down like nothing happened.

He also started doing everything — fixing broken things in the house, handling money, telling us what to do. It was like he became a new person overnight. Stronger, but colder.

And none of us went near the storeroom.

Not until much, much later.

Chapter 2: He Took Over

After the funeral, my brother changed.

He started waking up early, making calls, walking around the house with a notebook, checking pipes, switches, bills — things Dad used to do. At first, we were thankful. It felt like someone was holding us together.

But after a few weeks, it felt different. Like we weren’t part of it anymore. He didn’t ask us what we thought, or how we were feeling. He just… did things. And expected us to follow.

He brought his two friends into the house. They weren’t exactly rude, but they weren’t friendly either. They came by often — said they were helping fix up the place. Fix what, though? Everything felt like it was falling apart again, no matter what they did.

Then he got married.

It happened fast. She was from another country. She was polite, sweet, and always smiling, though a bit quiet. I liked her. I think Mom and my sister did too.

For a while, things seemed okay. Lighter. Like maybe the house would feel like home again.

But then, one night — she was just gone.

No note. No call. Nothing.

My brother said she left him.

Just like that.

I didn’t believe it. Neither did Mom. I remember standing in the hall that night, watching him walk in with his friends after looking around the area. His face was calm, too calm.

“She left,” he said.

“Why would she leave like that?” I asked.

“She just did. Let it go.”

That was it.

But I couldn’t let it go.

Something didn’t feel right.

And that’s when we started to get suspicious.

Chapter 3: Missing Pieces

After his wife disappeared, things at home got strange.

My brother didn’t talk much. He stopped smiling. He didn’t let us leave the house often either. Said it wasn’t safe. Said we should stay together as a family. But it didn’t feel like love. It felt like control.

My little sister stopped going to school.

I stopped going to work.

Mom mostly stayed quiet, but I knew she felt it too — something was wrong with him. And it wasn’t just grief. It was something deeper, something darker.

And then came that day.

One evening, Mom and I went up to the terrace. We hadn’t been there in a long time. I don’t even know why we went — maybe just to breathe. But then we saw the storeroom.

That old, rusty door. It had been locked for so long. I thought of Dad. Of how he used to go there with my brother. And how my brother never let anyone else near it after.

We looked at each other, Mom and I. We didn’t say anything. We just opened the door.

Inside, there were stairs going down.

It didn’t make sense — how could something go down from the terrace?

But there it was.

We walked slowly, carefully. The steps creaked under our feet. The air was thick, dusty. It smelled like old paper and metal. At the bottom, there was a room.

Dark. Messy. Books piled up everywhere. Cloth, broken boxes, old bags. Everything looked untouched, but lived in.

And then we saw something strange.

A second door.

Hidden behind some wooden planks. We moved them and opened it — it led to a small room with broken benches, like a classroom. But it was cold. Heavy. Like the air itself didn’t want us there.

On one of the benches, we saw a key.

We didn’t know what it was for.

We picked it up, but we didn’t take it.

Just then, we heard footsteps above us — our brother’s voice, and his friends.

We ran out.

Back to the terrace.

Back to pretending everything was normal.

But from that moment on, we knew:

Something had happened in that room.

Something Dad knew.

And now, something our brother was hiding.

Chapter 4: The Cage

After that night, nothing felt safe anymore.

My mom and I didn’t talk about what we saw — not with words. But we both knew. That storeroom had secrets. And my brother was hiding something. Something serious.

And from the day we visited it, his behavior shifted.

He stopped being the brother we remembered. He started locking us in.

Said it was “safer this way.”

That we didn’t need to go out anymore.

At first, it sounded like care.

But slowly, it felt like a cage.

My sister’s school was suddenly on break.

My job didn’t matter anymore.

Mom’s phone was always “not working.”

We were cut off from the world — and the worst part? We didn’t even realize how deep we were stuck until my sister said something that made everything feel real again.

“I think there’s a key in that storeroom,” she said casually one evening. “In the small room at the end.”

My heart raced.

How did she know?

She must’ve followed them once — when Dad was alive. Maybe saw something. Remembered something.

I panicked.

My brother was in the next room.

I leaned in close and squeezed her hand tightly.

“Don’t say that again,” I whispered.

She looked confused… then hurt. She started crying quietly.

He heard it.

He walked in, annoyed. “What happened now?”

My sister tried talking to him, the way she always used to — cheerful, expecting warmth. But he didn’t smile. He snapped at her. Raised his voice.

Then he moved like he was about to hit her.

I stepped in.

“Go to your room,” I told her firmly. “Now.”

She looked at me with teary eyes and ran.

I stood between her and my brother.

I looked at my sister crying, and I said softly,

“Daddy…”

I don’t even know why.

But when I said it, he froze.

He stared at me. I stared back.

And then, in a soft voice, I said something I didn’t plan:

“You sound just like him.”

His eyes locked on mine.

I stepped a little closer and whispered,

“I miss him, brother.”

For a second — just a second — his face changed.

He broke. And he hugged me.

Tightly. Like he didn’t want to let go.

I closed my eyes. I held on too.

But as I hugged him, a heavy thought sank into me.

This isn’t safe. Not anymore.

We have to leave. All of us.

Chapter 5: The Plan

The next morning, everything looked the same.

But it wasn’t.

After that hug, after my brother held me like he was trying to remember who he used to be, I knew one thing for sure:

He wasn’t fully gone.

But he wasn’t fully here either.

Something was pulling him deeper into something dark — and if we stayed, it would pull us in too.

That’s when I decided:

We had to leave.

Quietly. Carefully.

No fights. No drama. Just… disappear.

I didn’t have a phone of my own anymore, but there were ways. I remembered some of my office emails. I used the computer when no one was looking. Sent a few messages. Got help from someone I trusted.

One day, while my brother was out with his friends, I told my mom and sister the truth.

“We’re leaving. All three of us.”

Mom looked shocked at first — then slowly nodded.

My sister asked, “What about him?”

I didn’t answer. I just looked down.

Over the next few days, we packed little by little. Hiding things inside grocery bags. Wrapping clothes in newspapers. Making it look like we weren’t going anywhere.

And then I made my move.

I told my brother, “There’s been a problem at work. They need me to come in.”

He frowned. “Just resign. What’s the point?”

“I can’t just vanish,” I told him. “I still work there. They gave me leave. I just need to go speak with them.”

He stared at me. For a long moment, I thought he wouldn’t let me go.

But finally, he nodded. “Okay. One day.”

That was all I needed.

I packed quickly. Took my sister with me.

He asked, “Why her?”

I said, “Mom’s been too quiet. I think she needs rest. I want to give her a break.”

He didn’t argue.

That was strange — and it made me even more nervous.

I gave Mom one look before we left. She nodded. We had practiced this. She knew what to do when it was her turn.

We walked away from the house — not running, just walking — like everything was normal.

But inside, my heart was racing.

We had no backup. No one to call. No exact plan.

Only one thing kept us going:

We wanted peace.

A place to start over. A life without fear.

We didn’t take money. We didn’t take jewelry. We didn’t even take photos.

We just took our memories — and each other.

Chapter 6: Mother’s Turn

My sister and I made it out.

We didn’t look back.

We didn’t breathe easy — not yet.

We reached a friend’s place. Someone I trusted from work. They let us stay. No questions. Just comfort.

But Mom was still there.

And that house, now without us, felt more dangerous than ever.

We waited for her call.

Hours passed.

Then a day.

And then, it happened.

She called from a stranger’s number. Whispered into the phone like someone could hear her.

“He’s out,” she said. “But one of his friends is still here. Watching me.”

My heart dropped.

The same friend who used to smile like he belonged in our family. The same one who I suspected knew what happened to my brother’s missing wife. The one he trusted far too much.

“He’s not safe,” Mom said. Her voice shook. “He… tried something.”

That was all she said.

She didn’t need to explain.

I could feel her fear.

That night, she waited. Waited for him to fall asleep. She packed only what she could carry. Quietly zipped the bag.

Then she did something none of us expected.

She went to the storeroom.

Alone.

She wanted to find answers. Or maybe closure. Maybe she just needed to face the place that changed everything.

But inside… she found nothing.

Just darkness. Cold. Dust. As if the room itself had erased the past.

Only one thing caught her eye:

A corner of the room, with something written on the wall in chalk.

Faded words:

“Don’t trust the friends.”

She didn’t take a photo. She didn’t touch anything.

She left.

On the way out, the friend woke up.

He saw her.

He tried to stop her.

She picked up the nearest object — a heavy lamp — and hit him.

He dropped.

Not dead. But enough to give her time.

She grabbed her bag and ran.

Ran through the gate. Down the street.

She didn’t cry until she saw us again.

When the three of us were together, we didn’t say much.

We didn’t have to.

We just held each other.

And finally — finally — breathed.

Chapter 7: The Beginning Again

We didn’t have much.

No furniture. No kitchen setup. No decorations. Just a small space with three mattresses on the floor and a single window that let in soft light.

But it was ours.

For the first time in months — maybe even years — we felt free.

No locked doors. No watching eyes. No one shouting.

Just quiet. And each other.

We took turns making simple meals. Took long walks near the new building. Mom started smiling again. My sister started humming songs she used to love.

I started working remotely. A small job from the company I’d been with before. The manager understood. Didn’t ask questions. Just said, “You can stay wherever you want. That’ll be your place now.”

That meant everything.

One afternoon, while I was working, I got a message.

It was from a friend I hadn’t heard from in months — someone who had known my brother.

“Sorry to send this,” the message said.

“I’ve been watching him online for a while. I thought you should see this.”

Attached was a video.

A YouTube Short.

Low quality. Just my brother… dancing. In our old house. But the room looked different. Empty. Echoing.

At first, I laughed — just a soft, confused laugh.

But then, I noticed something.

In the corner of the screen — barely visible — a woman.

And next to her, a small child.

He’d remarried. He had a kid.

The dance went on. Clumsy, messy. Then it happened.

He fell.

From the first floor. Right in front of the camera.

The phone must’ve dropped. The video turned sideways.

Then, a loud crashing sound.

But it wasn’t from him hitting the ground.

It was something bigger. Heavier. Like… an earthquake.

Then silence.

Then the screen flickered.

And for a split second, I saw it.

Something fell behind him.

Not human. Not possible.

A giant leg. Just a leg — but it was the size of a house.

I couldn’t see the rest of it.

Just the foot.

And the ground around it breaking like paper.

Then — video gone.

My hands were cold. My phone slipped from my fingers.

I just stared at the blank screen.

Tears didn’t come right away. Not until I whispered something to myself:

“I didn’t lose him today.”

“I lost him the day he made a deal with whatever that thing was.”

Chapter 8: The Last Door

Days passed after I saw the video.

I didn’t show it to Mom or my sister.

I didn’t speak about it to anyone else.

But every night, I thought about it — that leg, that sound, that strange flicker in the air.

Was it real? A glitch? Some kind of curse?

Or… a memory that only I could see?

I started having dreams. Always the same place.

The storeroom.

Dark. Quiet. Cold.

I walked inside alone. There was always dust in the air, like time itself had been frozen. Then the bench would appear. And behind it, that secret door.

One night, I opened it in my dream.

This time, it wasn’t empty.

Inside, I saw my brother — the version of him I remembered. The old him. Smiling, holding a book, the way he used to sit and listen when we were kids.

But behind him stood something else.

A shadow. Endless. Quiet. It didn’t move, but it felt alive.

My brother turned around slowly.

He didn’t say help.

He didn’t say sorry.

He looked at me with those soft eyes, tilted his head… and said:

“You did a great job, Vaishu.”

That broke me.

Tears rolled down in my sleep, and when I woke up, my chest hurt.

Because in that moment — that one dream — I realized the truth.

I started crying.

Not because I was scared.

But because I asked myself something I had buried deep inside:

Why did we leave him?

If the house was the problem…

If it was cursed or poisoned or haunted by something unknown…

Why didn’t we take him too?

Why didn’t I fight for him?

Even now, when Mom asks — “Do you think we could’ve saved him?” —

I never have an answer.

Maybe we couldn’t.

Maybe we already lost him the day he stepped into that storeroom with Dad.

Or maybe…

Maybe I just didn’t try hard enough.