The Fear We Share

Carried Out cold

Tay Tay slammed the second man to the ground, the c***k of his skull against the tile echoing through the room. Blood pooled fast beneath his head, spreading darkly across the floor. Then silence—broken only by the freezer’s low hum and my ragged, uneven breaths.

My arm dripped steadily, each drop a sharp reminder of the blade that had cut me. I tried to straighten, but the black edges of my vision pulsed harder with every heartbeat.

“Are you good?” Tay Tay’s voice cut through, urgent.

I forced a nod, though I could barely keep my balance. “I’ll live. Just get the boy.”

Tay Tay yanked open the freezer lid. A rush of white vapor spilled out, followed by a gasping cry. The kid inside trembled violently, lips blue from the cold. Tay Tay pulled him out, cradling him close, pressing the boy against his chest for warmth.

The boy’s frantic eyes darted until they locked on me. “Please… my brother. He was here. He had a pendant—a gold one, with a blue feather…”

The knife in my hand felt heavier. My chest tightened. I looked everywhere but at him, because I’d already seen that pendant dangling from a dead boy’s neck back in that room of bodies.

But I couldn’t tell him. Not here. Not now.

“We’ll find him,” I said, steadying my voice even as the lie scraped my throat raw. “But first—we have to get out of here.”

The boy clung tighter to Tay Tay, hope flickering in his eyes. Tay Tay glanced at me, reading the truth I couldn’t speak.

We both knew.

And the weight of it followed us as we moved.

Tay Tay clutched the shivering boy against his chest, then turned toward the corner where his younger siblings huddled in the shadows.

“Come on,” he barked, low and urgent. “We're out of here." Hurry—the haunted house is almost over.”

The kids bolted toward him, their small hands locked together, footsteps slapping against the blood-slick floor. Their faces were pale, but the sound of his voice lit something in their eyes—hope.

I pressed a hand hard against my wound, feeling the warm spill of blood slowly beneath my palm. My head swayed heavily, but the sight of the door ahead sharpened everything.

“Stay close,” I ordered, my voice rough. I shoved them forward, forcing my legs to move.

We moved as one—limping, stumbling, but moving.

The heavy door loomed in front of us, its surface smeared with rust and old fingerprints. The closer we got, the louder the whispers seemed to grow, as if the walls themselves were trying to warn us back.

But we didn’t stop.

Because whatever was waiting on the other side had to be better than what we were leaving behind.

We pushed the heavy door open, and the night air hit us like a wave. At first, I thought it was another trick, another layer to the nightmare—until I saw them.

An older couple stood on the porch, debating quietly over who should knock. The moment their eyes landed on us—bloodied, bruised, and clutching the children—the man froze.

“Hey, we were just—” His voice cut off, his face draining. “Oh my God… do we need to call the police?”

“Yes… Please,” I murmured, swaying on my feet as the edges of my vision blurred. I could feel myself slipping out of consciousness.

The kids looked up at me, confused. “I thought this was just a haunted house… why are the police coming?”

I forced a weak laugh, shaking my head. “To take us home.” Our car isn’t here.”

The lady’s eyes filled with pity. “Oh, honey… do you kids want some candy?”

I smiled faintly, though my voice stayed steady. “That’s kind of you, ma’am. But our mom doesn’t let them have candy at certain times.”

Tay Tay’s eyes met mine, both of us knowing exactly why I said that—our unspoken signal.

Within minutes, flashing lights painted the street. Police cars pulled up, followed by an ambulance. Officers and EMTs rushed us, their questions blending with the click of radios and the clatter of gurneys.

I let them guide me, the pain in my arm flaring as they worked to stop the bleeding.

Later, bandaged and barely steady, my phone buzzed. Tay Tay.

Tay Tay: “Wassup, twin?”

Me: “Not much, just got bandaged up.”

Tay Tay: “How long has it felt like we were gone?”

Me: “One day. Maybe just one night.”

Tay Tay: “… Mom said it’s been four. Almost five. She filed a report. Said she was glad we were back.” He paused. “I didn’t tell her… or the police… exactly what happened. Been actin’ like I’m still in shock.”

Me: “Ts, twin. Imma go. The police are comin’ to question me.”

Tay Tay: “Alright. Love, twin.”

Me: “Love.”

I hung up, the silence in my room heavy, the weight of what we’d survived pressing down on me.

The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the hospital room, a dull rhythm that reminded me I was still alive. My arm burned beneath the fresh bandages, and every breath felt heavier than the last.

The door creaked open, and two officers stepped in. Not Mom, not Tay Tay—just them. My chest tightened.

“Evening, Tylil,” one said, his voice calm but sharp. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got jumped by a train,” I muttered, forcing a weak grin.

He didn’t laugh. He pulled up a chair, flipping open a small notebook. “We need to go over what happened." You and the others were gone for four days. Can you tell me where you were during that time?”

My mouth went dry. Images slammed into my mind—the freezer, the woman’s face before I cut her throat, the boy’s scream. I blinked them back and leaned onto the pillow.

“It’s… blurry,” I said carefully. It felt like a haunted house, like one of those places you walk through for Halloween, but worse. Doors slamming, people screaming, chasing us, and a lot of blood. But it wasn’t, no game.”

The second officer leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “So you’re saying strangers held you? Did you hear names? See anything we can use?”

I shook my head slowly. “Nah… I just remember the cold. And running. And blood.” My voice cracked at the last word, and I looked away like I couldn’t handle it.

The first officer scribbled something, then softened his tone. “You’ve been through hell. But the more we know, the faster we can stop whoever did this.”

I stared at my bandaged arm, fingers twitching.

“There were… three,” I said slowly. “Three dead people." They didn’t look burnt or old like the others. They still looked human.”

Both officers froze, pens hovering.

“One was a lady,” I continued, my voice dropping. Tall. She had hooks on her legs. Throat slit wide open.”

I swallowed hard, looking past them at the blank hospital wall.

“And the other two… in the kitchen. Men. Once, I was stabbed in the throat with a knife. The other—Tay Tay, knocked him out cold, but his head was bleeding badly. Real bad.”

The officer scribbled fast. The other narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying you killed one of them?”

“I’m saying,” I fought back, voice shaking, “if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”

Silence stretched, heavy as the hospital air.

Finally, the first officer shut his notebook. “Alright." "We’ll need to send people back to that house, see if what you’re saying checks out.”

I forced a bitter laugh. “Do what you want. The place was hell. Good luck.”

They gave me a long look, then stood. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

When the door shut, I sank back against the pillows, chest heaving. I hadn’t told them about the bodies on the floor, or the pendant, or the whispers, or the things that hunted us deep inside.

Some things I couldn’t tell.

Some things I wouldn’t.