chapter three. holly, jolly

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like an unbearable burden. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, as if doing so would somehow hold her together. Her eyes were fixed on her mother, who was frantically clutching the string of Christmas lights in trembling hands, her face etched with an anxiety so palpable it made Elizabeth's stomach churn.

The air in the room felt thick, oppressive, as if the very walls were holding their breath. The soft, erratic flicker of the lights provided the only illumination, casting the room in a surreal, almost dreamlike glow. It was as though they had stepped into a nightmare, one from which none of them could wake.

"Will? Will? Sweetheart, can you hear me?" Joyce’s voice cracked, each word more desperate than the last. "Will... Please... Will... It’s me. It’s me. Just talk to me. Talk to me. Just say something." Every syllable was laced with raw, aching emotion, and Elizabeth felt each one like a dagger in her heart. She glanced at Jonathan, who stood beside her, his jaw clenched tight. The same helplessness she felt was written all over his face, but neither of them knew what to say. What could they say?

The dim room felt like a tomb, the flickering lights the only sign of life, yet their hope hung by a thread. Elizabeth swallowed hard, the knot in her throat almost unbearable, as she watched her mother grow more frantic by the second. Joyce’s hands shook violently now, as if the tremors in her body were the physical manifestation of her unraveling mind.

"Mom?" Jonathan finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady. His eyes flickered toward Joyce, and Elizabeth could sense the wariness behind them.

Joyce barely registered his voice at first, her gaze still fixed on the string of lights, as though they were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Then, abruptly, she turned to them, her eyes wild with a manic blend of hope and despair. "Jonathan! Elizabeth!" she called out, her voice sharp with emotion. She motioned for them to come closer, her hands shaking. "Come here. Come here."

The fear in her voice made Elizabeth’s chest tighten. She exchanged a glance with Jonathan, and in that moment, they both knew: something had snapped in their mother. But what could they do? They were just as desperate as she was to find Will, to bring him back, to end this nightmare. And yet, nothing felt real anymore.

"Mom, what is this?" Jonathan asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and concern. His gaze shifted around the room, taking in the chaotic sight of the Christmas lights strung haphazardly along the walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed almost mocking in the dimness.

Joyce sniffled, wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, but she didn’t let go of the lights. "Come here," she repeated, her voice breaking as her eyes pleaded with them to believe her. "It’s Will. He’s... he’s trying to talk to me."

Elizabeth felt her heart skip a beat. The hope in her mother’s voice was enough to make her want to believe, but... lights? Christmas lights? It was insane. And yet, as she stepped closer, her body moved on autopilot, driven by a fragile thread of hope.

"He's trying to talk to you?" Jonathan asked, his voice straining to remain calm, though Elizabeth could hear the disbelief creeping in.

Joyce nodded emphatically, her eyes wide."Yes. Through... through the lights." Her voice trembled, breaking on the last word as she looked between them, desperate for some form of validation.

Jonathan glanced at Elizabeth, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Mom—"

But Joyce interrupted him, her voice filled with urgency. "I know. I know. Just... just watch." She tightened her grip on the string of lights, her knuckles almost white as she turned back toward them. "Will... your siblings are here. Can you show them what you showed me, baby? Please..." Her voice cracked again, this time almost breaking completely, and Elizabeth’s heart ached as she watched her mother crumble right in front of her.

Suddenly, without warning, the lights in Joyce's hands glowed, their soft flickering suddenly bursting into a blinding white light. It was so quick, so brief, Elizabeth wasn’t even sure if she had really seen it, but Joyce’s gasp told her it had happened.

"Did you see that?" Joyce’s eyes widened with hope, the desperation momentarily replaced by a spark of belief.

Jonathan swallowed hard beside her, his voice shaking as he tried to make sense of it all. "It’s the electricity, Mom," he stammered. "It’s acting up."

Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, her heart torn between wanting to believe her mother and the cold, creeping doubt that threatened to choke her. Was it possible? Could Will really be reaching out to them? Or was their mother simply losing her grip on reality?

"No," Joyce insisted, shaking her head.

"It’s the same thing that fried the phones," Jonathan argued, his voice tense, but there was a softness in his tone, a gentleness meant to reach Joyce in her hysteria.

"No! It is not the electricity, Jonathan. Something is going on here!" Joyce's voice rose, thick with emotion as she turned toward Elizabeth, her eyes wide and pleading. Desperation poured from her in waves, her grip on the lights tightening as if they were the only tether to her sanity. "You believe me, Elizabeth? Please tell me you believe me."

Elizabeth froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her mother’s raw vulnerability sent a wave of panic coursing through her. She wanted to believe her, but the flickering lights, the frantic behavior — it didn’t make sense. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck.

"I — I don’t know, Mom," Elizabeth finally stammered, her voice trembling. She could feel Jonathan's gaze shift toward her, but she couldn’t look at him. The uncertainty in her voice was enough to send a surge of anxiety through the room.

Before Elizabeth could finish, Joyce cut her off, her desperation only intensifying. "Yesterday, the wall—" she started, her voice thick with urgency.

"What?" Jonathan's voice cut in sharply, his confusion turning to concern. "What about the wall?" He stepped forward, his body tense, ready for the worst.

Joyce's eyes darted between them, her hands trembling uncontrollably now. "I don’t know. I don’t know."

"Mom, first the lights, now the wall?" Jonathan said, his brow furrowed, his frustration bubbling up.

"I just know that Will is here," Joyce stammered, her voice fragile, on the verge of breaking. Her eyes were wide with terror, but behind them, there was something else — a mother’s fierce, unwavering belief in her son.

"No, Mom," Jonathan said, trying to remain calm even as the tension in the room became almost suffocating.

"Maybe if I get more lamps..." Joyce’s voice was a fragile whisper, as if the solution to their grief was as simple as more lights.

Jonathan stepped closer, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. "No, Mom," he interrupted firmly. "You don’t need more lamps. You need to stop this, okay? People are looking for him, and they’re going to find him."

Joyce blinked, tears welling up in her eyes, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. Her hands fell limply to her sides, the string of lights slipping through her fingers like sand. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"This isn’t helping," Jonathan repeated, his voice gentle but insistent.

Joyce nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek as she whispered,  "Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry."

Jonathan glanced at Elizabeth, his eyes softening with compassion. "Can you do us a favor, Mom? Can you just try and get some sleep?" His voice was almost pleading now, knowing that if Joyce didn’t rest, she might fall apart completely.

Joyce sniffled, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she replied, though her voice was distant, her gaze unfocused.

"Huh?" Jonathan pressed gently, leaning in closer. "Can you do that for us? Just try to rest a little."

"I promise, I will," Joyce said, nodding weakly. But Elizabeth could hear the reluctance in her tone, the way her mother’s mind was still racing, still searching for answers even though her body was exhausted.

"Yeah?" Jonathan asked again, his voice softer this time, as if coaxing a child.

"Yeah," Joyce repeated, though her voice was strained. She sniffled, wiping at her eyes again. "I just need to sit here for a minute."

"I’ll go make breakfast," Elizabeth said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She gave her mother a gentle, reassuring squeeze, her hand lingering on Joyce’s shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. She wished she could say something that would make everything okay, that would bring Will back and make their family whole again. But there were no words for that. So instead, she slipped away quietly, heading toward the kitchen, where the smell of coffee and eggs would fill the silence that had overtaken their home.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖, measured steps behind the school, her thoughts a tangled mess that mirrored the headache pounding in her skull. The weight of everything — Will’s disappearance, her mother’s unraveling, the constant fear gnawing at her — pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. She fumbled with the cigarette box, pulling one out with shaky fingers and lighting it, watching the tip glow as she took a long, deliberate drag.

The familiar burn in her throat provided a small but fleeting comfort, like a pinprick of warmth in a sea of cold. She leaned back against the rough brick wall, closing her eyes as she exhaled slowly, the smoke curling in the crisp air. The distant hum of life at the school — students laughing, chatting, going about their normal day — felt so far removed from her reality that it might as well have been happening in another world.

What the hell am I doing? she thought bitterly, the cigarette dangling from her fingers. She wasn't even sure why she started smoking — it wasn’t like it fixed anything, but at least it gave her something to do with her hands, something to focus on that wasn’t the all-consuming panic about Will.

“Since when do you smoke?” a voice broke through her thoughts, startling her.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to see Cameron standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his letterman jacket. His expression was hesitant, a mix of concern and curiosity that didn’t sit right with her.

“Since my little brother went missing,” Elizabeth answered, her voice sharper than she intended. She took another drag from the cigarette, her gaze dropping to the pavement.

Cameron flinched, a flicker of regret flashing across his face. “Yeah, right... stupid question,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Silence settled between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Cameron scuffed his sneaker against the ground, kicking a small rock aimlessly as if the action could break through the thick tension. Elizabeth kept her eyes down, focused on the cracked pavement, her mind spinning with fragmented thoughts. Why was he here? Why now, when he hadn’t even looked her way in weeks? And why did he suddenly care?

The pounding in her head intensified, a relentless rhythm that made her squeeze her eyes shut in an attempt to will it away. She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead, trying to soothe the pressure, but it was useless. Everything was too much.

“You okay?” Cameron’s voice was softer now, more genuine. His hand hovered uncertainly before resting on her shoulder, a hesitant touch.

Elizabeth’s first instinct was to shrug him off, to snap that she didn’t need his pity, but the words died in her throat. Instead, she forced herself to breathe, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her.

“Yeah, just... a headache,” she mumbled, taking one last drag of her cigarette before flicking it to the ground and grinding it out with the heel of her boot. She glanced up at Cameron, catching the worry in his eyes, and for a moment, she almost let herself lean into the comfort he was offering. Almost.

But then, like clockwork, Cameron’s teammates appeared, their rowdy voices cutting through the moment as they called out to him.

“Sinclair! You coming, man?” one of them shouted, already jogging over, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air.

Cameron glanced over his shoulder at them, then back at Elizabeth, torn between the two worlds — the carefree normalcy of high school life and the dark, messy reality that clung to her like a shadow.

Elizabeth noticed his hesitation and felt the familiar wall go up inside her. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. “Just go,” she muttered, her voice flat. “I’ll be fine.”

Cameron hesitated for a second longer, his eyes searching hers as if looking for permission. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth nodded, already looking away, her gaze fixed on the ground once more.

Without another word, Cameron jogged off to join his friends, their laughter and chatter growing fainter as they rounded the corner, leaving her alone again.

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, staring down at the crushed cigarette butt at her feet. The numbness began to creep back in, and she welcomed it. It was easier to feel nothing than to deal with the mess of emotions swirling inside her — fear, anger, guilt. She could already hear her mother’s voice in her head, pleading, begging the lights to blink, to offer some sign that Will was still out there, still alive.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐃, the soft hum of her guitar strings barely cutting through the heavy silence in her room. Her fingers moved instinctively over the chords, but her mind was somewhere else — still stuck on her earlier conversation with Cameron. His concern had been unexpected, almost unnerving. The melody she strummed was slow, almost melancholic, as though her hands were translating the turmoil in her chest into music. The guitar was her refuge, the one thing that could drown out the chaos in her mind, even if only for a few moments.

But her fragile peace was shattered by a scream.

It ripped through the house, piercing the air like a siren, raw and terrified. Elizabeth’s heart seized, the guitar slipping from her lap as she bolted upright. Her feet hit the floor before she could even think, adrenaline flooding her system as she sprinted out of her room. The sound of her mother’s scream echoed in her head, fear igniting every nerve in her body.

She burst into the living room, skidding to a halt as her blood ran cold.

The Christmas lights were everywhere — strung haphazardly across the walls, flashing erratically. Their soft glow cast eerie shadows that danced around the room, but that wasn’t what made her stomach drop. Her eyes were glued to the wall, where something monstrous was clawing its way through the plaster. The creature’s distorted form moved unnaturally, its long, twisted limbs tearing at the fabric of reality itself, as if it were breaking through from another world.

Elizabeth felt frozen, her chest heaving as her breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

But it was.

Joyce stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and frantic, her face pale with terror.

Before Elizabeth could process what was happening, survival instincts took over. She darted forward, grabbing her mother’s trembling hand, her voice sharp with urgency. “Mom, we need to go, now!”

Joyce didn’t move at first, her gaze still locked on the grotesque figure tearing at the wall. Her disbelief was palpable, as if her mind couldn’t catch up to the horror in front of her. “Will...” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Elizabeth tightened her grip on her mother’s hand, yanking her toward the kitchen. “Mom!” she shouted, the fear making her voice crack. “We have to leave! Come on!”

It was as if something snapped inside Joyce. She blinked rapidly, as though waking from a trance, and finally nodded, stumbling after her daughter. Elizabeth’s hands were shaking so badly that it took her a moment to grab a knife from the kitchen drawer. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Knife in hand, Elizabeth pulled her mother toward the front door, her legs moving on autopilot, fueled by pure terror. The creature let out a guttural sound behind them, but she didn’t dare look back. She couldn’t. Her breath came in ragged gasps as they burst out into the cool night air, the wind biting at her face as they ran down the empty street. The world outside was eerily quiet, as if oblivious to the nightmare that had just unfolded inside their home.

Elizabeth ran faster than she ever thought possible, but she made sure her pace matched her mother’s. She wouldn’t leave her behind, no matter what. She could feel the weight of fear pressing down on her, making her legs weak, but she pushed forward, refusing to give in. Somewhere along the way, the knife slipped from her hand, clattering to the ground, but she didn’t stop. There was no time.

Only when they had put several blocks between themselves and the house did Elizabeth allow herself to slow down, her chest heaving as she doubled over to catch her breath. Her entire body was trembling, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, but a fleeting sense of relief washed over her. They were out. They had made it.

But the terror still clung to her, lurking just beneath the surface.

Out of nowhere, headlights illuminated the road behind them. Elizabeth’s heart leapt into her throat, but the panic subsided slightly when she recognized the car. It screeched to a halt beside them, and Jonathan stepped out, his face etched with confusion and concern.

“Mom, Elizabeth — what's wrong?” he demanded, rushing toward them.

Joyce didn’t answer right away. She was trembling uncontrollably, her face still pale, and before Elizabeth could say anything, Joyce crumpled into Jonathan’s arms, sobbing hysterically. The weight of everything seemed to hit her all at once, her body shaking with fear and grief.

Jonathan wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her like he was trying to physically keep her from falling apart. He looked over at Elizabeth, his eyes full of questions, but she couldn’t find the words to explain. How could she?

Elizabeth stood a few feet away, her whole body still vibrating with terror. She wiped at her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand, but the shaking wouldn’t stop. The sound of sirens blared in the distance, drawing closer, but all she could hear was her mother’s ragged sobs and the monstrous roar echoing in her mind.

Jonathan pulled her into the embrace, holding both of them close, his grip firm, like he was anchoring them to reality. Elizabeth clung to him, her breath hitching in her throat as the sobs she had been holding back finally broke free.