The sound of rap music hummed low from an old Bluetooth speaker, its bassline shivering through the concrete floor in uneven pulses. Rudy’s garage smelled like oil, hot rubber, and last night’s rain drying on the driveway. Tools hung from the pegboard in immaculate order. a small island of control Rudy clung to while the rest of their lives drifted uncontrollably toward chaos.

            Billy sat in the Mustang’s driver seat, legs sticking out the open door, tapping his heel in time with the music. A cherry lollipop bobbed lazily between his teeth as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Zaira leaned over the folding table under the dim overhead bulb, sorting through flashlights, batteries, and a battered first-aid kit. Trent stood away from the noise, flipping through a notebook filled with sketches and rough diagrams of what he remembered from the Winchester House.

            Rudy wiped his hands on a towel and turned to the group. “You realize how insane this is, right? I mean — Trent, man, I get it. But we’re talking about walking back into a place that literally tried to kill you.”

            Billy popped the lollipop from his mouth and twirled it dramatically. “Tried,” he echoed. 

            “Key word. Failed.” He pointed the lollipop at Rudy. “Gotta give us some credit.”

            Rudy scoffed. “You play too much.”

            “Playing keeps you from losing your mind,” Billy replied, shrugging one shoulder. “Trust me. I’ve tested the theory.”

            The line earned a faint snort from Zaira, though she didn’t look up from the flashlights.

            “What’s the alternative?” she asked.

            Billy’s grin dimmed — just a little, almost unnoticeably — before he shoved the lollipop back in his mouth.

            “Thinking about the nights I almost didn’t wake up,” he said around the candy.

            Rudy’s jaw tightened. “We all got stuff like that man.”

            For a moment, none of them spoke. Trent finally closed his notebook and looked at them with the weight of someone still halfway living in nightmares.

            “I appreciate you being here,” Trent said quietly. “All of you. But you have to understand something. This isn’t a mystery we can brute-force. That house… it changes. It feeds on fear. If you show weakness, it uses it.”

            Billy waved the lollipop vaguely in the air. “Lucky for us, we’re already disasters. No surprises left to exploit.”

            Zaira finally looked up at him. “That’s not how trauma works, Billy.”

            He winked. “Sure it is. Fake it till you make it. Fake it till the monsters get bored.”

            Rudy slammed the hood closed; the sound sharp in the small garage. “Or till they get hungry.”

            Despite his joke, Billy flinched almost imperceptibly at the word hungry. Then he covered it with a cocky grin.

            Trent didn’t miss it — but he didn’t push either.

            He drew in a breath, steady but heavy. “Matty was terrified when I left him. I see it every night. If he’s alive… I have to know. And if he’s not… then I have to end this. Permanently.”

            The words settled into the garage like dust, thick and inescapable. The low thrum of the music suddenly seemed too small to fill the silence that followed. Billy lowered the lollipop, expression softening for once.

            “We’re with you,” he said. “All the way.”

            No jokes.
            No mask.
            Just truth.

            And for a moment, standing in that messy garage under dim yellow light, it felt like the four of them were more than scared kids trying to stay alive.

            It felt like a team.

            “Wait… what do you mean by ending it permanently?” Rudy asked, the question hanging heavier than he expected.

            “I’m going to make sure that house never hurts anyone ever again,” Trent answered, his voice leaving no room for misunderstanding.

            Rudy dragged a hand down his face. “Okay, I feel like I have to point this out. One—the police and the local news have already searched that house from top to bottom, and they didn’t find anything. Two, the place is officially a historic landmark. And three, I don’t mind indulging you in this little exercise. We’ll go in, look around, but we are not destroying or damaging anything. My dad’s a sergeant on the force, not a senator. It’s not like he can pull strings and make felonies disappear.”

            “Okay…” Trent surrendered, raising his arms. “If it turns out to be just an abandoned house, we’ll look around and leave. But if I’m right, I’m burning that place down.”

            “Hopefully you’ll wait until after we escape before that part of the plan,” Billy said, lifting a hand like he was offering a prayer.

            Rudy groaned. “Just… be prepared if there’s nothing to find. I’m only doing this so you can get some closure with all of this.”

            Zaira stepped forward and placed a flashlight in Trent’s hand, her fingertips brushing his knuckles. “Then let’s make sure none of us end up as ghosts this time.”

            Rudy moved to the Mustang and flipped open the trunk. He dug around, then pulled out a crowbar and tossed it to Billy. “In case the ghosts don’t play nice.”

            Billy caught it effortlessly, twirling it once before resting it on his shoulder. “Man, this is starting to sound like my kind of therapy.”

            Rudy rolled his eyes, heading for the door. “You say that now.”

            Zaira slung her backpack over her shoulder, her expression calm but resolute. “Tomorrow night, we go. Before we lose our nerve.”

            Trent nodded as though the decision were a weight settling onto him. “Tomorrow.”

            The garage light flickered once, just a brief, trembling heartbeat of darkness—before stabilizing.

            None of them noticed the faint chill that drifted across the room, brushing their ankles like a cold whisper. None of them saw Trent’s notebook on the workbench, lying open to a page filled with frantic scrawl, slowly turn itself over as though something had been reading along.