CHAPTER 6 — WHEN THE DOOR BREAKS & THE THING INSIDE ME OPENS ITS EYES
The crack in the doorframe wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't the booming crash movies love so much.
It was small.
Sharp.
Precise.
Like a knuckle cracking.
Like someone testing the strength of bone with their thumb.
I stared at it — the thin jagged line splitting the wood near the top hinge — and for a moment everything in me went very still.
Not calm.
Not brave.
Just… still.
Like my body couldn't decide whether to run, scream, or collapse.
Another crack followed.
Lower this time.
A slow, creeping split.
The kind of sound that makes your stomach twist, because wood doesn't break like that unless something very strong is pushing it.
I backed away until my calves hit the couch.
The metal water bottle was still trembling in my hand.
"Think, think— come on, Arin— THINK—"
But thinking didn't work.
My thoughts were scrambled.
My breathing too fast.
My heartbeat too loud.
Yet beneath all that panic…
there was something else.
Something steady.
A deeper rhythm beneath my heartbeat.
Not faster — slower.
Like a second pulse moving at its own pace.
Like something inside me wasn't panicking at all.
I didn't have the luxury to question it.
Because the voice outside the door spoke again — soft this time, like he was enjoying my fear.
"There's a point," he said, fingers tapping the door lightly, "where running no longer works."
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
"And you've reached it."
THE DOOR GIVES UP
I didn't see him.
I didn't need to.
The sound told me everything.
A breath in.
The hinges straining.
Metal whining.
Wood splintering.
And then—
BWHAM!
The door didn't fall.
It buckled.
Like someone pressed a palm right in the middle and the wood swallowed the shape of their hand.
A perfect imprint.
Deep enough to catch shadows.
My breath hitched.
This wasn't a normal person.
Not even close.
Awakened.
Like me.
Except he knew what he was doing.
And I didn't.
I stumbled back, hands shaking, vision flickering at the edges.
Fear hit me like an ocean wave —
but right behind it, something else rose.
A tightening in my chest.
A pressure crawling up my spine.
A sensation like my body wasn't mine entirely.
A whisper from earlier returned, but faint, stretched thin:
"…stay awake…"
I swallowed hard.
"I'm trying," I whispered to myself.
The stranger chuckled again — a slow, delighted sound.
"Good. Fight it as long as you can. It makes the moment you break so much sweeter."
My skin crawled.
He pushed again.
CRAAAACK—!
This time the top hinge snapped out of the wall and hit the floor with a metallic clang.
The vibration went through my feet.
He was getting through.
I didn't have minutes.
I had seconds.
THE MOMENT THE WORLD SLOWS
Fear does strange things to a person.
For some, everything speeds up.
For others, everything stops.
But for me—
time stretched.
Not like a movie effect.
Not dramatic.
Just… slower.
Like the air thickened, turning seconds into something softer, heavier.
The stranger's next push came—
but I saw it before I heard it.
The door bending inward.
The splinters expanding outward.
Dust floating in the air like tiny suspended stars.
My breath steadied without my permission.
I took one step backward.
Then another.
My hand loosened on the bottle.
For the first time tonight—
I didn't feel like prey.
Not because I was brave.
But because the thing inside me finally…
opened its eyes.
The pressure in my spine rose like a tide, warm and urgent.
My vision sharpened to the smallest details — the way the doorframe trembled, the exact angle of the splintering wood, the slight shift of weight behind the door.
I could feel the stranger's presence.
Not his voice.
Not his movements.
His intention.
Predatory.
Focused.
Certain.
The same way animals know when they are being hunted.
But I felt something else too — something deeper, something I didn't have words for.
A sense of…
space.
Like the air around me had texture.
Like I could feel the thickness of the room, the distance between objects, the shape of movement before it happened.
It wasn't power.
Not yet.
It was awareness.
Raw.
Instinctive.
The kind a person only gets in the moment between life and death.
And I knew one thing:
If that door broke completely,
the part of me that was human wouldn't survive the next ten seconds.
THE FINAL PUSH
The stranger exhaled.
And then, almost bored:
"Enough."
His foot hit the door.
Not hard.
Just… final.
BOOM!
The hinges exploded from the wall.
The chain snapped like thread.
The entire door launched inward, hitting the floor with a deafening crash.
Dust swallowed the room.
I raised my arm on instinct — not to block the debris, but because something inside me made me move.
Something ancient.
Something awake.
And through the settling dust…
a silhouette stepped into the doorway.
Tall.
Calm.
Completely unhurried.
His eyes locked onto mine.
Not hungry.
Not cruel.
Interested.
As if I were something rare.
"You feel it too, don't you?" he said softly.
"The awakening… choosing you."
My throat tightened.
Not from fear.
From something else —
like pressure gathering behind my ribs.
He took one step toward me.
"Show me."
My heartbeat slammed—
—and the world shattered into instinct.