The House of Horror

Chapter 15 _ When Malik Is Present, The Atmosphere Is Different

Hussein: I don't like you sitting alone in the apartment, Malik. You have to come with us. Go get your bag and you'll come with us.

Hussein glances towards the sofa and sees Dima sitting there drinking alcohol.

Hussein says sharply: Hello.

He turns to Malik, saying: Didn't you say you had guests?

Dima was sitting on the sofa with the glass in her hands, but she stood up as soon as they entered the living room. Malik suddenly felt a mental void. How could Dima sit so calmly? Just minutes before, she had been on the verge of collapse. His eyes went to the blood, but the floor was perfectly clean. He stammered quietly, "Yes, I know you. This is Dima." Amal smiled warmly, "Hello, Dima." They shook hands. Dima said quietly, "Hello, Auntie." Sophia went over to Dima, and they kissed each other warmly. Sophia said, "Come here, Dima." Sophia took Dima's hand and pulled her towards her room. They entered the room, and he closed the door. Hussein sat on the sofa, and Amal sat down as well. Malik stood frozen in place, watching Dima and Sophia enter the room and close the door. Amal whispered to Hussein, "This is Dima, Sophia and Malik's friend." Hussein said, "Hmm." Hussein picked up a glass from the table, took a sip, and sighed. "Can you get me another glass? Malik... come, sit with us." Malik was still standing frozen in place. Amal rose from her seat and headed towards the bar in the kitchen. "Yes... no problem," Malik replied sternly, trying to maintain his composure. He sat down next to Hussein, but the moment his body touched the sofa, a jolt hit him. The memories flashed back like lightning: Mira... in the bathroom! He stood up again, his eyes fixed on the hallway. From where he sat, the cursed scene returned: Mira's body, drenched in blood, every detail, every color, every smell, repeated with vividness as if it were happening right now. His body tense, his heart pounding, his hands trembling, and the world around him slowed down, as if time itself had frozen. He tried to breathe deeply, closing his eyes slightly, but the memory wouldn't subside. Every step towards the bathroom was like walking through an echo of the past, every sound and every shadow reverberating in his mind. The walls seemed alive, whispering the events that had transpired. Amal She returns to the living room, holding a glass full of red wine, which she offers to Hussein as she glances towards Malik, who is heading towards the bathroom. "Malik, Malik, are you just going to stand there like that?!" she calls out. Malik opens the bathroom door and enters. He looks ahead to find the jinn king, Damour, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, holding Mira's head on his lap. He gazes at her calmly, as if enjoying the scene. Malik freezes, staring at Damour and the dead Mira. In Dima's room, Dima and Sofia sit on the bed. Dima tries to compose herself, though sadness and tears still glisten in her eyes. Sofia observes the scene, perhaps preparing to support Malik, aware of the tension in the room. "Sofia: Ever since Mama died, I haven't been home. I've been staying with my aunt." Dima: "So Mama was killed in this apartment?" Dima remembers the scene of blood in the kitchen again. She looks at Sofia and asks, "Where was she killed?" Dima: "In the kitchen." Sofia nods, as if trying to explain the blood she saw in the kitchen to herself. "So everything I saw in the kitchen wasn't real," she thinks to herself. "And that was Nour, Malik's mother. I don't understand anything anymore. What's with this headache?" She clutches her head. Dima asks, "Do you usually come here to see Malik?" Sofia replies, "No, this is my first time. I spoke to him by chance and found out he was sick and alone." Dima asks, "What's wrong?" Sofia says, "Nothing, just a bit of a headache." Malik is still in the bathroom, standing before the jinn king, Damour, who holds Mira's head on his lap. Damour raises his head and looks at Malik, then vanishes, along with the body. It's as if he's telling Malik that the jinn is still true to his promise and saved him from the most difficult situations. Silence reigns, broken only by the faint echo of memories, the whisper of footsteps, and the thump of Malik's heartbeat. Everything seems alive: the walls, the shadows, the tiles—all converge upon him. He stands Frozen, he stared into space, the memory of Mira hovering on the edge of his consciousness. Her presence was gone, but her impact remained. Every detail screamed in his mind: blood, a body, memories, and a relentless, gnawing psychological torment.

Malik looked down and breathed, then turned, grasped the bathroom doorknob, opened it, and left. He walked slowly toward the living room, glancing at his aunt Amal, who was sitting on the sofa next to Hussein.

He opened the door to Dima's room, and Sofia and Dima emerged.

Amal stood up, saying, "Come on, Malik."

Malik replied, "I told you before, Auntie, I'm not leaving the house." From his seat in the living area, Hussein suddenly stood up, pointing a finger at Malik. His voice was firm and resolute:

"Listen, you have to listen. There's no such thing as 'I'm not leaving the house.'

You have to come with us. Or are you happy with things as they are? Now go pack your bag." Malik turned to follow him. Looking at Dima and Sophia, his heart torn between the desire to resist and the fear of angering his uncle, he slowly made his way to his room, leaving the door open behind him, as if the passageway between the rooms had become a taut rope connecting him to the past and the unknown future.

Dima walked hesitantly towards Malik's room. Hussein looked at Amal, saying, "Malik's being alone in that cursed apartment has really affected him." Dima approached hesitantly, her eyes darting between the door and the room, as if she feared getting closer more than she feared leaving. Sophia whispered anxiously, "Inside Malik's room, Dima stood before him as he packed his clothes in his suitcase."

Dima: Malik, are you really going with them?

Malik: I'm going with them. You see how insistent Uncle Hussein is, and I don't want him to be upset.

Dima: And what about me, Malik?!

Malik, coldly: What about you?

Dima turned to Malik silently, her gaze fixed on the ground, as if all her words were trapped behind fear and doubt.

Malik approached her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, then tenderly kissed the top of her head, trying to convey a sense of reassurance amidst the chaos surrounding them.

The scene remained still for a moment, as if time itself had stopped, leaving only the echo of Hussein's footsteps and the tense voices in Malik's living room, which had now become a stage for the struggle between will, love, and fear.

It seems that parting ways with Malik won't be easy.

In her room, inside her apartment where she lived alone, Dima lay on her bed, trying to relax after a long day. She clutched the edges of the bedsheet, gently tugging at it, as if searching for a sense of security within the folds of the fabric. She glanced at the blanket covering her body, a shield protecting her from the night's chill and the clamor of thoughts racing through her mind.

Slowly, she reached for the bedside lamp, switched off the light, and sank into the quiet darkness of the room. She lay on her side, shifting gently among the pillows, trying to close her eyes to everything around her.

As she tried to sleep, she felt the warmth of someone beside her, gently embracing her. Their presence was a silent protection, a feeling of reassurance in a moment of stillness, where everything outside this room seemed distant, leaving only Dima and her warm body, enveloped in a temporary peace and comfort.

For the first time in Hussein's house

In Malik's room inside Hussein's villa, he lay on the bed, clutching the edges of the blanket, pulling it over his body as if trying to build a wall of security around himself. He slowly reached for the lamp beside the bed, switched off the light, and sank into the darkness of the warm room.

He lay on his back for a few moments, aware of the stillness, then sleep overcame him, leaving behind all the worry and tension that had filled his day. The darkness enveloped him like a gentle embrace, easing the burden of reality and granting him temporary respite before facing what the next day might hold.

When Malik arrives, the atmosphere is different

In Hussein's room, he and Amal lay side by side on the bed, deep in sleep, their breaths gently mingling. The room was dark, save for a faint light emanating from a small yellow lamp, a warm touch casting its shadows on the walls and filling the space with a sense of peace and comfort, like a small barrier protecting against any external anxiety.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the lamp went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The temperature rose unnaturally, as if the air itself had become charged with electricity and a hidden threat. At that moment, the genie Malik Damour appeared in the room, huge and imposing like a giant, filling every corner with his terrifying presence. His slow movements seemed to create ripples in the air, as if every shadow and corner trembled with him.

-I've always been peaceful since I was little.

In Sophia's room, she was fast asleep, her eyes moving lightly as if navigating between dream and reality. She turned gently from side to side, clutching her doll tightly in her arms, a small haven of comfort and reassurance in a world that sometimes seemed

-a nightmare harsher than the human mind can comprehend.

Dima sat on her bed, breathing heavily, her face etched with panic and fear, as if she hadn't seen her beloved Malik, but rather a terrifying specter silently invading her world.

After a few tense moments of silence, she gathered her composure and reached for her phone on the table beside her. A sense of control gradually returned, as if she were trying to find a foothold in the surrounding darkness.

But after a moment, she put it down again and returned to her bed, surrendering to the temporary relief, while sadness filled her features, weighing heavily on her shoulders and enveloping her in a profound silence, as if the night itself shared in the weight of that moment.