The attic door stood ajar, a sliver of darkness spilling into the narrow staircase. The faint creak of wood echoed above, chilling the group into silence.
“No one’s been up there, right?” Anshika whispered, gripping her bandaged arm.
Misty tightened her jaw. “Not that we know of.”
“Then how is the door open?” Apoorva asked, her voice barely audible.
“We’re about to find out,” Shreya said grimly, gripping the flashlight like a weapon. She stepped onto the first stair, her footsteps slow and deliberate.
“Wait!” Manasvi pleaded, panic rising in her voice. “What if they’re still up there?”
“Then we stick together,” Misty said firmly. “Let’s go.”
The Attic
The attic smelled of damp wood and dust, the air heavy and suffocating. Flashlights swept across the room, casting long, eerie shadows on old furniture shrouded in sheets. The faint sound of rain against the roof heightened the oppressive silence.
“Be careful,” Apoorva murmured, clutching Manasvi’s arm.
Misty moved toward the center of the attic, her flashlight catching the faint glint of something on the floor—a loose wooden plank lying askew.
“What’s that?” Anshika asked, her voice shaking.
Misty crouched beside the plank, brushing away dust. Beneath it was a small metal box, rusted and worn.
Shreya stood over her. “Open it.”
With trembling hands, Misty pried the box open. Inside, they found a scarf—a familiar patterned one that had belonged to Ratna. Tucked beneath it was a small, rusted key and a folded photograph.
Misty picked up the photo and shone her flashlight on it. It showed Ratna standing in the sugarcane fields, her face lit with a carefree smile. But her image had been crossed out with an angry, jagged X, the ink slashed so deep it had torn the paper.
Anshika recoiled. “What the hell is this?”
“Someone hated her,” Manasvi whispered.
“Or wanted to scare her,” Shreya muttered. She snatched the key. “This must go to something downstairs. Let’s find out what.”
The Basement
Back in the basement, the group searched for a lock that matched the key. The faint drip of water from the stone ceiling echoed in the cold, damp space, heightening the tension.
“There,” Apoorva said suddenly, pointing toward a locked storage trunk shoved into the corner.
Shreya slid the key into the lock, her hands steady. The click of the mechanism sounded unnaturally loud. Slowly, she lifted the lid.
Inside was a pair of muddy shoes, a faded jacket, and a jagged stone stained a dark reddish-brown. The group stared in horror, realizing what they were looking at.
“It’s the murder weapon,” Shreya said, her voice low.
“No,” Anshika whispered, shaking her head. “It can’t be. It’s been here this whole time?”
“Someone kept it,” Misty said grimly. “And they kept it hidden.”
A sudden noise—like footsteps—sounded above them. The group froze.
The Final Confrontation
They rushed upstairs, their hearts pounding. The sound of footsteps led to the kitchen, where Apoorva stopped short.
“Where’s Manasvi?” she asked, her voice trembling.
The group turned in panic, realizing she was no longer with them.
“She was right behind me,” Misty said, her voice rising.
“Split up,” Shreya said sharply. “Search the house.”
They spread out, calling Manasvi’s name. The storm outside had picked up again, the wind rattling the windows.
Shreya found her first. In Ratna’s old room, Manasvi was standing by the broken window, her shoulders trembling.
“Manasvi?” Shreya said cautiously.
Manasvi turned, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she whispered. “It was an accident.”
“What are you talking about?” Shreya asked, stepping closer.
Manasvi sank to her knees, her sobs growing louder. “Ratna—she was so cruel. She said she would ruin me. That night… I just wanted her to stop.”
The others arrived, their flashlights bouncing off the walls.
“What’s going on?” Misty demanded.
“She’s confessing,” Shreya said coldly. “She killed Ratna.”
“No,” Manasvi cried, shaking her head. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan it—I swear. She threatened me, and I grabbed the stone to scare her. But she—she grabbed it, and we fought, and then…”
Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands.
A Dark Twist
The group stared in silence, processing her words. Anshika finally spoke. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?” Apoorva asked.
“The shoes,” Anshika said, her voice shaking. “The ones in the trunk—they’re not hers. They’re too big.”
Everyone turned to Shreya, who looked down at her feet. Her jaw tightened.
Misty’s voice was cold. “You were with her that night, weren’t you?”
Shreya’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Smart, as always.”
The group froze as Shreya stepped forward, her flashlight casting her shadow across the room.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen either,” Shreya said, her tone calm. “But she knew too much. About me. About all of us.”
Manasvi sobbed harder, curling into herself.
“She wasn’t going to stop,” Shreya continued. “So I finished what you started.”
The group recoiled, their terror palpable.
“You… you’ve been watching us this whole time,” Misty said, her voice trembling. “Toying with us.”
Shreya tilted her head. “You all make it so easy. The lies, the guilt—you unravel yourselves. I just gave you a little push.”
Before anyone could respond, Shreya’s flashlight went dark.
Final Scene
In the chaos that followed, the storm knocked out the power entirely. By the time Misty found the main switch, Shreya was gone.
The group searched the farmhouse and the fields, but there was no trace of her.
As the dawn broke over the misty fields, they gathered in the living room, their faces pale and drawn.
“Do we tell Devesh?” Apoorva asked quietly.
“And say what?” Misty snapped. “That the real killer is gone? That we didn’t stop her?”
Anshika hugged her knees. “She could come back.”
The room fell silent, each of them haunted by the same thought.
Outside, the sugarcane swayed in the wind, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of footsteps disappeared into the morning mist.
