Chapter 5: The Grin in the Dark

Her question echoed in my mind, stirring up a memory—someone calling me “Buddy” while I swung on the old tire swing out back, the summer sun hot on my neck. I could almost hear the laughter, but the memory slipped away before I could catch it. I forced a smile, hoping Marissa would let it go.

After that, Marissa fell silent, but kept glancing at me, her eyes troubled. I didn’t know what she was thinking. If she thought the crate was meant for me, not Buddy... that was just silly. Still, the idea gnawed at me.

She hugged her knees to her chest, eyes flicking from me to the crate. The TV’s canned laughter felt far away, tinny and wrong. I felt the floorboards creak beneath us, a distant dog barking outside. The house seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. What was she so afraid of?

Because when the lights went out for bed, I saw Buddy again. Marissa was still in the bathroom, washing up, and I’d just flicked off the living room light. That’s when I noticed him up on the rafters—just a pair of glowing green eyes and a mouth stretched wide, teeth bared in a grin that didn’t belong on any animal. My breath caught, and I was so terrified I hurried into my room.

The house groaned in the dark, every shadow stretching longer. I fumbled with the light switch, my hands shaking. A flash of movement—those same green eyes, reflecting in the darkness, the smile growing wider as I stared. My heart hammered in my chest, and I ran, tripping over a shoe, slamming my bedroom door behind me, my whole body trembling.

Marissa didn’t stay in my room; she set up in the guest room next door. Before bed, she poked her head in, saying, “Holler if you need me, okay? I’ll hear you.” I nodded, clutching my pillow. The house was quiet except for the faint glow of a nightlight and the soft hum of the fridge down the hall. But sometime after midnight, a nightmare yanked me awake. I called out for Marissa—no answer. The air felt cold, dust motes swirling in the shaft of moonlight. I got out of bed, heart pounding, and padded barefoot down the hall to her room. When I opened the door, I found her—Marissa was dead.

The house felt like a tomb, the silence swallowing every sound. I crept down the hallway, shivering, calling her name. When I finally pushed open her door, the smell of dust and old sheets hit me. Moonlight spilled across her face—her eyes wide and glassy, her mouth pulled back in a grotesque, unnatural rictus. My knees buckled, and I staggered backward, bile rising in my throat.