Listen if doesn't want you to leave. It wants you to stay longer remind it.
The red moon was rising.
Blood-red. Heavy. Watching.
Ahaan stood in front of a house he'd never seen before — but somehow felt like he'd always known.
It was a small two-story building, old and quiet, sitting in the middle of nowhere. Its windows were shut, its door slightly open. No wind. No birds. Just stillness.
The book had led him here.
CASE FIVE: The House With No Exit
Once you enter, the door disappears.
The walls move.
The rooms shift.
And the house learns your fears… fast.
Ahaan took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind him.
He turned around — but the door was gone.
Only a blank wall remained.
His chest tightened.
He was inside.
And the house had already started.
The living room looked normal.
Sofa. Lamp. A small painting of a family. Dust in the air.
But something was… off.
The painting. The faces were blurred, like someone had erased their features with a finger.
He stepped into the next room.
The kitchen.
It was identical to the living room.
Same layout. Same lamp. Same painting.
Still no faces.
"What the…" Ahaan whispered.
He turned back to go the way he came — but now, that hallway was gone.
Just another room.
This one… a bedroom.
With a mirror.
He walked to it and stared at himself.
But this reflection wasn't copying him.
It just stood there.
Smiling.
Suddenly, the reflection raised its hand — even though Ahaan didn't.
It tapped the glass.
Once.
Twice.
Then it mouthed something.
"You can't leave."
Ahaan stumbled back.
The lights flickered.
The door to the room vanished.
Walls shifted behind him. The bed grew longer. The room stretched sideways like rubber.
Everything was moving.
And then… the whispers began.
Voices — quiet and broken.
"Ahaan…"
"Where are you, Ahaan?"
"Come out… come out…"
They sounded like his mother and father.
But they were wrong.
Too slow. Too cold. Like someone pretending to be them.
He screamed, "You're not real!"
Suddenly — BOOM.
The bed caught fire.
Flames rose high.
But they didn't burn anything. They just stayed, frozen like a photograph.
Like fear made into a shape.
He ran.
Room after room.
Hallways that led nowhere.
A staircase that went in a circle.
He passed a bathroom where the mirror was filled with blood — not behind the glass, but inside it, as if the mirror itself was bleeding.
He opened a door to a dining room — and found himself, sitting at the table.
Except this version of him was older.
Eyes black.
Smiling.
"You're becoming me," the double whispered.
"Every minute you stay, the house takes more of you."
Ahaan backed away.
"I just need to find an exit," he said.
But the double laughed.
"There is no exit. Only welcome mats that lie."
Then the candle from the Candle Test appeared in Ahaan's hand — unlit.
He struck a match and lit it.
The flame glowed faintly.
It didn't light the room — it lit truth.
Now he saw writing on the walls.
In blood.
Everywhere.
"HELP ME"
"IT KNOWS MY NAME"
"IT'S ME. IT'S ME. IT'S ME."
He held the book close and whispered, "Show me the way out."
But the book didn't answer.
Instead, a new sentence wrote itself:
"You can't leave unless something else takes your place."
His heart dropped.
He remembered something from Chapter 5:
"When spirits are trapped, they must trade souls to escape."
The house wasn't just haunted.
It was alive.
And hungry.
The lights exploded above him.
A scream ripped through the floor.
The walls cracked open and dozens of hands — thin, gray, long-fingered — reached out, grabbing at his arms and legs.
He kicked, shouted, twisted away — and fell backward into a new room.
The nursery.
A baby's crib rocked on its own.
Inside the crib… a face.
Not a baby.
His own face, crying softly.
Ahaan stepped back in horror.
Then the door opened again.
And in walked the same blurred family from the painting earlier.
No faces.
No voices.
Just breathing.
They pointed at the crib.
Then at him.
Then the candle in his hand blew out.
Darkness.
He screamed.
But no sound came out.
No breath.
The house had taken it.
He clutched the book — but the pages were blank.
Tears welled in his eyes.
"I don't want to die here," he thought. "I don't want to forget who I am."
Then…
A knock.
From under the floorboards.
One. Two. Three.
The book flickered with light.
A new page appeared:
"You passed. Barely."
"The house let you go… this time."
Everything shook.
The walls bent inward.
The floor cracked.
And Ahaan was suddenly falling through a tunnel of shadows.
Screams echoed around him.
Then—
Thud.
He landed on grass.
Back in the forest.
The house… was gone.
No sound. No lights. No proof it ever existed.
Just him.
And the book.
On its cover, one new word had appeared in red:
"CLAIMED."
Ahaan stood up, knees shaking, eyes wide.
Whatever that place was…
It had touched his mind.
And he wasn't sure if he'd ever be the same again.
After this