BLOODBOUND ESCAPE

CHAPTER TWO: WHISPERS BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS

Elara did not sleep.

She lay awake long after the shadow vanished, staring at the ceiling while the moon crawled across the room. Everytime she closed her eyes, she saw those faint blue lights hovering in the darkness behind her .

★You're not alone★

The words had not sounded like a voice spoken aloud. They had slipped into her mind like a memory she had long forgotten.

By morning, she had almost convinced herself that it was exhaustion.

Almost.

The alarm rang at 5:30 am.

Elara flinched violently, her body reacting before her thoughts could catch up. She sat up too fast, dizziness washing over her. The bruise on her wrist throbbed where her father had grabbed her.

Downstairs, cupboard doors slammed.

Her father was awake.

Fear settled over her like a second skin.

She pulled on her school uniform, buttoning the collar high enough to hide the fading marks along her neck. Make up was forbidden in the house, but she had learned other tricks - long sleeves, lowered eyes, silence.

When she entered the kitchen, the smell of burnt coffee and cigarette smoke hung in the air.

Her mother stood at the sink, washing dishes that were already clean.

Her father sat at the table reading the newspaper.

Neither looked at her.

Elara moved quietly to the counter and began scrubbing the pans she had missed the night before.

The silence was worse than the shouting.

It stretched and stretched until her father finally spoke.

"You're late".

She glanced at the clock. 5:41 am.

"I'm sorry".

The newspaper lowered just enough for his eyes to find her.

"Sorry doesn't fix laziness".

Her mother kept washing the same plate.

Elara swallowed the reply burning in the throat.

*I was awake till dawn. I was crying. I was trying not to break.*

Instead, she whispered, "Yes, sir".

The newspaper rose again.

Conversation over.

Rain followed her to the school.

The bus windows fogged with condensation, blurring the city into streaks of grey. Students laughed, traded headphones, complained about assignments. Elara sat alone in the back, forehead against the cold glass.

No one noticed the split in her lip. Or if the did, they chose not to ask.

She preferred it that way.

Questions were dangerous.

By third period, exhaustion pressed behind her her eyes like a weight. The teacher's words dissolving before they reached her ears.

"Elara?"

She blinked.

"Would you like to answer the question?"

Thirty faces turned towards her.

Heat flooded her cheeks.

"I... I don't know".

A few students snickered.

Her teacher sighed. "See me after class".

"Of course".

When the bell rang, Elara gathered her books slowly, waiting for the room to empty.

"You used to be one of my best students", the teacher said, leaning against the desk. "What's going on?"

Nothing.

Everything.

"I'm just tired".

"That bruise on your wrist-".

Elara jerked her sleeve down.

"I fell".

The lie came too quickly.

The teacher studied her for a long moment, and Elara felt the terrifying possibility the someone might finally see through her.

But then the woman nodded, though doubt lingered in her eyes.

"Get some rest", she said softly.

Elara almost laughed.

The rain had stopped by the time she reached home.

The house looked the same as always - peeling paint, crooked porch, windows like dark, watchful eyes.

But something felt different.

She noticed it the moment she stepped inside

Cold.

Not ordinary cold.

A deep, unnatural chill that seemed to rise from the floorboards.

Elara paused in the hallway.

"Mom?"

No answer.

The house was empty.

Relief loosened her shoulders.

She climbed the stairs to her room, dropped her bag and froze.

Her window was open.

She was certain she had closed it that morning.

The curtains billowed inwards though the evening air was still.

A shiver crept down her spine.

"Elara".

She spun around.

No one stood behind her.

The whisper had come from below.

From the floor.

Her breath quickened.

Another whisper followed, too faint to understand.

Then another.

Dozens of voices, overlapping beneath the boards.

Not loud.

Not threatening.

Mourning.

Elara backed away until her legs hit the bed.

The whispers grew clearer.

"...found her..."

"...after all this time..."

"...blood remembers..."

"Stop", she whispered.

The voices did not stop.

The floor beneath her feet trembled once.

A sharp c***k split the silence.

Elara gasped as a thin line appeared in the wood near the center of the room. Darkness seeped through it - not shadow, but something thicker, moving like ink in water.

The whispers ceased instantly.

Silence crashed down.

Then came a knock.

Three slow taps.

From the window

Elara turned.

A figure stood outside on the roof.

Impossible.

Her room was on the second floor.

Rain water dripped from the dark silhouette. The face remained hidden beneath the hood, but she felt those eyes on her with the same terrifying certainty as the night before.

Blue light flickered beneath the hood.

Not human.

Every instinct screamed at her to run.

Yet she couldn't move.

The figure lifted one gloved hand and pressed two fingers against the glass.

A warning.

Not a greeting.

Elara's heart hammered.

Behind her, the c***k in the floor widened.

Cold air rushed upward, carrying the scent of earth and something metallic.

Blood.

The hooded figure moved suddenly.

A sharp gesture toward the floor.

★Get away from it★

Elara stumbled backward just as the wood split open with a violent snap.

Blackness yawned beneath her room.

And from that darkness, a pale hand began to rise.