Chapter 9
1227 Words
Noises in the Bone
(Eli’s POV)
Eli ran.
He wasn’t sure when he started, or what direction the boy conductor had pointed him in. The train had no end, and each car felt stitched from memories he didn’t want anymore.
The lights above buzzed like flies trapped in glass.
His fingers ached where his claws—yes, claws—had half-shifted during the vision. Blood stained the sleeves of his hoodie. Not his own.
> “The knife,” he whispered. “Find the knife. Then what? Dig up Dad’s corpse and ask for directions?”
But it wasn’t a joke.
Because somewhere in the deepest shadows of this place—his father wasn’t in the ground.
He wasn’t done.
Eli pushed through another warped train door and stumbled into a cargo car lined with crates wrapped in chains.
Every box whispered.
Soft, desperate voices.
Some begged.
Some cried.
Some just chanted his name.
He pressed on, heart pounding like it was trying to run faster than he could. Then—
He saw it.
At the far end of the car.
A pedestal.
A black cloth.
A knife beneath it. Simple. Wooden-handled. Ancient. Innocent-looking.
But Eli could feel it—hum.
It sang through his bones like a lullaby only monsters remembered.
He stepped closer.
The moment his fingers grazed the cloth—
The air screamed.
His knees buckled.
Vision blurred.
And suddenly—
He wasn’t in the train anymore.
He was—
In a red room.
Walls made of throats.
And across from him—
A mirror.
Not glass.
Flesh.
And in it—
A version of himself.
Smiling.
Covered in blood that dripped upward.
> “It’s not enough to inherit,” the thing said in his voice. “You have to become.”
Eli tried to scream but no sound came out—
Until the world split.
He snapped back to the train, lying on the floor, chest heaving.
The knife was in his hand.
And something behind him whispered:
> “She’s awake.”
Eli turned.
But no one was there.
Just a trail of bloody footprints leading toward the next car.
Toward Juliet.
--
Juliet
She burst through the final door, heart slamming against her ribs, the envelope clenched in her fist.
She didn’t care what waited.
Not anymore.
Not after what she’d seen. Not after hearing Eli’s scream in the walls like it was carved into her bones.
She saw him—
Kneeling.
Bloodied.
Eyes wide.
Holding a knife that radiated wrongness so strong it made her teeth ache.
> “Eli!”
He looked up—and their eyes met.
And in that moment—
Nothing else mattered.
She ran to him, dropped to her knees.
> “Are you—?”
> “Juliet,” he breathed. “I thought you were gone.”
They wrapped around each other like anchors in a storm.
His hands were shaking.
Hers were bloodied.
But they were here. Together.
Until—
Something spoke behind them.
> “Ah. Found each other. Precious.”
They turned slowly.
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
Seven feet tall. Skin like coal dust. No face—just a mouth stretched across its skull, ringed in stitches.
> “Now let’s see what happens… when you’re forced to choose.”
It raised one hand.
And the knife in Eli’s grip turned white-hot.
He cried out, dropped it.
Juliet lunged for it.
The stitched thing laughed—and split in two.
Two versions of it—identical—now stalking toward them from either side.
> “One will kill. One will lie. Choose fast, little ripper. Choose wrong, and she burns.”
Juliet didn’t wait.
She hurled the envelope at one of the creatures—the one on the left.
It hissed—and recoiled.
> “That one,” she gasped. “It reacted.”
Eli snatched the knife and lunged.
The blade sank into the left creature’s chest.
It screamed—but not in pain.
In rage.
And then—nothing.
The other version vanished like steam.
The real one slumped.
Dead.
They stood in silence, panting.
Then Juliet looked down.
The envelope had burned.
Only one thing remained—charred, but legible.
A line from her father:
> You are meant for more than survival. You are meant to end what he started.
She met Eli’s eyes.
And for the first time, neither of them looked away.
---
Eli
The stitched thing melted into rot at his feet. Eli stared at his hands, slick with blood and trembling from adrenaline or trauma—he couldn’t tell which.
Juliet stood beside him, her breath shallow, her posture stiff like she hadn’t realized she’d survived yet.
> “It felt like I blacked out,” he whispered. “And woke up in something else’s dream.”
Juliet didn’t answer at first. Just looked at the broken knife between them, its glow now dull.
Then:
> “You weren’t dreaming. You were seen.”
Her voice was flat. Calm. Too calm.
> “By who?” he asked.
She turned to him, her eyes darker than he remembered.
> “By what’s left of your father.”
Eli’s stomach twisted.
> “You saw him?”
> “I saw something wearing him.”
She handed him the fragment of burned paper—the last message from her father. Eli read it once, twice.
> You are meant for more than survival.
The words tasted like prophecy.
> “So what now?” he asked. “We run?”
Juliet gave him a sideways glance.
> “No. We hunt back.”
Juliet
She hated how steady her voice sounded.
Because inside, she was shaking.
Not from fear—but from something far colder.
She remembered the way the stitched thing laughed—how it called Eli little ripper. The echo of its voice still curled in her eardrums like smoke.
And now the knife—his knife—was dying in his hands.
> “The blade’s fading,” she said. “It was never meant to last.”
Eli nodded, eyes narrowed. “Then we’ll make it count.”
For one awful second, she thought they might actually have a plan.
And then the walls screamed.
Eli
He spun, shielding Juliet instinctively.
The air shifted.
Warped.
A chorus of clicking teeth filled the space.
The car doors burst open—and figures spilled in.
Too many.
Dozens.
All faceless. All stitched.
But these didn’t speak.
They sang.
> “Rip and rend, the bloodline ends,
But if it breaks, the dark ascends…”
Juliet stepped back.
> “We need to get off this train. Now.”
> “How?”
> “We jump.”
Eli blinked.
> “While it’s moving?”
She smiled grimly.
> “Still think I’m just some girl?”
He gripped her hand tighter.
> “No. I think you’re the only one who’ll get me out of this alive.”
They turned toward the emergency door at the back of the car.
Behind them, the horde surged forward—
And Eli threw his shoulder into the door.
It gave.
Wind howled as the outside world screamed past in a blur.
> “Ready?” she yelled.
> “Never.”
And together—they jumped.
- Writer
