A Life Is Loading

Clay sat on the edge of the worn-out couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers intertwined as his mind raced in endless circles. The weight of everything happening to his family was suffocating him. How was he supposed to find that unknown man? Where would he even start?

His son—or whatever was inside him—sat on the floor, staring at the blank wall with an unnatural stillness. It wasn't Ben. Clay had accepted that now. The real Ben was trapped somewhere, lost in the darkness, and Clay had no idea how to bring him back.

Emily sat beside him, her hands tightly gripping her lap, her breath uneven. Lily clung to her mother, burying her face into Emily's side, too scared to look at her brother. The room was thick with fear, silence stretching like a suffocating fog.

Then, Clay spoke.

His voice was low, steady, and filled with quiet determination.

"I know you're not my Ben."

The figure on the floor twitched slightly, as if reacting to Clay's words.

Clay's eyes narrowed. He continued, his voice firm. "Just tell me… why are you saying 'A life is loading'? What does it mean? Which life is loading?"

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—Ben's body moved.

His head turned slowly, too slowly, as if controlled by an unseen force. His dark, empty eyes locked onto Clay. And then—

He laughed.

A terrible, chilling laugh that sent icy fear crawling down Clay's spine.

Emily flinched, covering Lily's ears as the sound echoed through the small rented room. It wasn't Ben's innocent, childlike giggle. It was distorted, deep, and inhuman, like multiple voices laughing at once.

Clay's jaw clenched, but he didn't look away.

Then—Ben's gaze shifted.

Slowly, deliberately, his head turned toward Emily.

The laughter stopped abruptly. Silence filled the room once again, heavier than before.

And then, in a slow, eerie voice, Ben spoke.

"She knows."

Clay's heart skipped a beat. His hands balled into fists. "What did you say?"

Ben's lips stretched into an unnatural grin. "She knows… everything."

Emily's breath hitched. "W-What are you talking about?" Her voice trembled.

Ben—or whatever was inside him—tilted his head, staring at her with those empty, soulless eyes. "Don't you, Emily?"

Emily shook her head furiously. "No! I don't know anything!"

Ben chuckled darkly. "Oh, but you do."

Clay turned to Emily, his eyes filled with confusion. "Emily… what is he talking about?"

Emily's face was pale, her hands shaking as she held Lily closer. "I don't know! Clay, you have to believe me!"

Ben stood up, his movements stiff and unnatural. He took a slow step toward Emily. Then another. His grin widened.

Clay immediately stepped in front of his wife and daughter, shielding them. "Stay away from them!"

Ben stopped, staring up at his father. His smile didn't fade. "You're asking the wrong questions, Daddy."

Clay's eyes narrowed. "Then tell me the right question."

Ben leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Who is the life that is loading?"

Clay felt the hairs on his arms rise. He swallowed hard. "Who?"

Ben let out another laugh—a slow, unsettling chuckle. "The one who started it all."

Clay's breathing quickened. "Who started what?"

Ben's eyes darkened. The room suddenly felt colder. "The game."

Emily gasped, covering her mouth.

Clay's mind spun. Game? What game?

Ben leaned in closer, whispering words that sent chills down Clay's spine.

"A life is still loading, Daddy. But when it fully loads…"

He grinned wider, his voice dropping to a sinister tone.

"Someone won't survive."

Clay took a step back, his heart pounding. "What does that mean?"

Ben didn't answer. He simply turned, walked to the corner of the room, and sat down—completely still, staring at nothing.

Silence.

Only the sound of everyone's shallow breathing filled the air.

Emily's grip on Clay's arm was tight, her body shaking. Lily whimpered, burying her face against her mother.

Clay exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. What did all of this mean? Who was loading? Who started this 'game'?

And worst of all—who wasn't going to survive?

As fear gripped his heart, he knew one thing for sure.

The nightmare wasn't over.

It was just getting started.

Clay's mind was spiraling into chaos. The words that had just escaped from Ben's—or whatever was inside him's—mouth were rattling in his brain like a haunting melody he couldn't shake.

"Who is the life that is loading?"

"The one who started it all."

"The game."

"Someone won't survive."

The cryptic message made his blood run cold. His heart pounded so violently that he could hear it echo in his ears. What was this game? Who started it?

And then, it struck him.

A name.

Emily.

Something about the way Ben had turned toward Emily… the way his unnatural laughter had echoed through the room as his soulless eyes fixated on her—it all pointed in one direction.

Clay's breathing became uneven. His hands trembled slightly as his gaze shifted toward his wife.

Emily.

Could she…? Did she know something?

She had denied it. But was she lying?

His mind fought against the possibility. No. This was Emily. The woman who stood by him when everything fell apart. The mother of his children. The person who had suffered alongside him in this unending nightmare.

And yet…

She was hiding something.

Clay clenched his fists. He didn't want to doubt her, but the situation left him no choice.

His voice came out low and strained. "Emily."

Emily was still shaking, clutching Lily tightly. She looked up at Clay with tear-filled eyes. "What?"

Clay took a slow breath, steadying himself. "Tell me the truth."

Emily frowned, confused. "About what?"

Clay's jaw tightened. "About what's happening. About Ben. About this… 'game.'" He took a step closer. "Tell me what you know."

Emily's eyes widened. "Clay… I don't—"

"Don't lie to me!" Clay's voice rose, startling even himself.

Emily flinched, and Lily whimpered, gripping her mother even tighter.

Clay exhaled, running a hand down his face. He didn't mean to yell. But he was losing control. He had to know the truth.

"Please, Emily," he said, his voice softer now. "You have to tell me."

Emily shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Clay, I swear, I don't know anything! I'm just as scared as you are!"

But Clay didn't believe her. Not entirely.

Because Ben had said—"She knows."

And now, Clay was forced to think—what if the only clue to ending this nightmare was standing right in front of him?

Emily was the key.

But to what?

And as that thought sank in, Ben's eerie voice echoed in the silence once again.

"A life is still loading."

The air in the small, dimly lit room grew unbearably heavy. The tension between Clay and Emily was suffocating, thick like an unseen fog pressing down on their chests. Lily whimpered softly, burying herself deeper into her mother's embrace.

But then—a shift.

Clay turned his gaze back to his son.

Ben was no longer sitting still in the corner.

He was staring at him.

His once bright, innocent eyes were now hollow and dark, but something about his expression had changed. It wasn't the eerie grin or the unnatural movements anymore.

It was desperation.

Tears welled in Ben's eyes as his lips trembled. His small hands clenched into fists as he looked at his father with an expression of pure agony.

"Daddy…" Ben's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried more weight than a scream.

Clay's throat tightened. His heart pounded.

"Daddy, please…" Ben's voice cracked. "I can't fight anymore."

Clay felt his legs weaken, his chest aching as he took a step forward.

Ben's body trembled, as if something unseen was pulling him from within, consuming him. He gasped for air, his breathing shallow and ragged.

"I'm losing," Ben whispered, his eyes pleading. "You have to solve this. You have to stop him. Before it's too late."

Clay's entire body went cold.

"Who, Ben?" he asked, his voice barely steady. "Who is doing this to you?"

Ben's lips parted as if he was about to answer—

But then, his face contorted in pain. His body stiffened, his hands clutching his head as a scream tore through the room.

Emily and Lily shrieked, backing away.

Clay rushed toward his son, grabbing his small shoulders. "Ben! Stay with me!"

But Ben only shook his head violently. "I can't—he won't let me!"

Then—the lights flickered.

A chilling wind swept through the room, though the windows were shut. The shadows on the walls stretched unnaturally, twisting like living things.

Ben's sobs grew weaker, his body slumping forward as his breath turned shallow. His small fingers clutched Clay's shirt, barely holding on.

And in the softest, most broken voice, he whispered—

"A life is still loading…"

Then—silence.

Clay's grip tightened around his son as an unbearable dread settled deep into his bones.

Whatever this nightmare was…

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