The weeks after Uncle Jacob left were filled with silence. Emma could no longer move, no longer speak, and the doctors continued to offer no explanations. My parents were devastated, but they clung to the hope that she would one day recover. I, on the other hand, was consumed by dread. I knew the truth, and it gnawed at me day and night. Uncle Jacob had done something to her—something far worse than anyone could imagine.
One night, as I sat by Emma’s bedside, I heard a familiar sound. A faint ticking, like the steady rhythm of a clock. I looked around the room, my heart racing, but there was no clock in sight. The sound grew louder, more insistent, until it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Then, I saw it—Emma’s fingers twitching, just the slightest movement, but enough to send chills down my spine.
Her eyes flickered open, and for the first time in weeks, she looked at me. But it wasn’t Emma’s warm, innocent gaze. Her eyes were cold, distant, like they belonged to someone—or something—else. Slowly, her lips parted, and a low, raspy voice, one that was not her own, whispered, “He’s coming back.”
I stumbled away from the bed, my mind racing. “Emma? Is that you?”
But she didn’t answer. Instead, her body began to jerk violently, as if something was trying to take control of her. The ticking grew louder, echoing through the room, until it was deafening. I pressed my hands over my ears, but it didn’t help. The sound was inside my head, relentless.
Suddenly, the door to her room creaked open, and there he was—Uncle Jacob. He stood in the doorway, his eyes glinting in the darkness, the same twisted smile on his face. He stepped inside, the ticking of his watch growing louder with each step.
“You didn’t think I’d leave her forever, did you?” His voice was soft, mocking, as he pulled the watch from his pocket, letting it swing back and forth.
I screamed, running toward him, but it was as if the room had warped around me. No matter how fast I moved, I couldn’t reach him. He held the watch up, and Emma’s body stiffened again, her eyes rolling back just as they had before.
“Stop it!” I shouted, but my voice was swallowed by the ticking, growing faster, more chaotic.
In an instant, everything went black.
When I woke up, I was alone. The room was silent, and Emma lay motionless in her bed. But I knew Uncle Jacob was still out there, waiting. The ticking had stopped, but the terror had only just begun. And now, I knew—he wasn’t just after Emma.
He was coming for me.