Chapter 9: A Conspiracy of Silence

Chapter 9: A Conspiracy of Silence

Clatter.

The sound was small, metallic, and utterly final. It was the sound of a closing lock on a prison door. It came from inside the wall, a clear, definitive statement that the monster was not a memory, not a phantom, but a physical entity building a new home just inches from where Leo had tried to sleep.

James, jolted awake by the noise or by the sudden, suffocating tension in the room, sat up in his bed. “What was that?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “Sounded like a pipe burst.”

Leo couldn’t answer. He was already on his feet, backing away from the wall, his eyes wide with a terror that went beyond simple fear. This was the horror of contamination, of a sacred space made profane. He stumbled out of the room, not even bothering to close the door, and collapsed against the cool, painted cinderblock of the hallway. The fluorescent lights hummed with an indifferent, buzzing glare, casting long, sterile shadows down the empty corridor.

James appeared in the doorway a moment later, rubbing his eyes. “Leo? Man, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s not a ghost, James,” Leo whispered, his voice trembling. He hugged his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible. “A ghost is a memory. This is… this is an infestation.” He finally looked up at his friend, his eyes pleading. “It’s in the walls. I heard it. I heard a can.”

The color drained from James’s face. The sleepiness vanished, replaced by the grim memory of tackling something that felt like a “bag of wet sticks.” He knew Leo wasn’t imagining it. He had felt the unnaturalness of that creature firsthand. “Okay,” he said, his voice low and steady, dropping into the reassuring cadence of a team captain. “Okay. What do we do?”

For the first time since they had fled the manor, a flicker of clarity cut through Leo’s panic. This wasn’t random. This thing was tied to his family, to that house, to a past he couldn’t remember. Denial was a luxury he could no longer afford. Avoidance was a death sentence. There was only one place to get answers.

“I have to call my dad,” Leo said, scrambling to his feet. He needed his phone, but the thought of re-entering that room, of breathing that air thick with the scent of rot, was paralyzing.

James understood immediately. He disappeared back into the room and emerged a second later, holding out Leo’s phone like a holy relic.

Leo took it, his fingers fumbling with the screen. He found his father’s contact and pressed the call button, his heart hammering against his ribs. He walked a few paces down the hall, as if physical distance could somehow soften the coming conversation.

The phone rang four times before a gruff, sleepy voice answered. “Leo? It’s three in the morning. What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

The initial wave of paternal concern in his father’s voice almost broke him. For a second, he wanted to just be a kid again, scared of a monster under the bed. “Dad… I… I went back to the old house.”

Silence. The connection, which had been clear a moment before, was suddenly filled with a tense, crackling static. “What old house?” his father asked, his voice suddenly stripped of all warmth. It was flat, guarded.

“Grandpa’s house,” Leo pushed on, his voice gaining a desperate speed. “Elderwood. We went there last week. I thought… I thought it was just a story, about the squatter, the man with the cans…”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” his father cut in, his voice sharp as broken glass. “I told you to leave that place alone. There’s nothing there for you but bad memories.”

“It’s more than memories, Dad! It’s here! That thing, whatever it is, it’s here, at my dorm. I can hear it in the walls!”

“Stop it,” his father snapped, and the anger in his voice was so sudden and violent it made Leo flinch. It wasn’t the anger of a parent scolding a child; it was the raw, panicked fury of a man whose darkest secret had been unearthed. “You stop this foolishness right now. You had a bad dream, that’s all. You let your imagination run away with you, just like you always did. You stay away from there, you hear me? Forget it. Forget what you think you saw.”

“I’m not imagining it!” Leo cried, his voice cracking. “James saw it too! He fought it! Dad, you have to tell me what it is!”

“There is nothing to tell,” his father said, his voice dropping to a cold, menacing whisper. “Forget it, Leo. Let the dead stay buried. I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

The line went dead.

Leo stared at the phone, the dial tone a mocking buzz in his ear. The anger, the evasion, the outright refusal to even acknowledge the reality of the situation… it wasn’t the reaction of a man who thought his son was crazy. It was the reaction of a man who knew his son was telling the absolute truth.

His hands were shaking, his mind reeling. His father was a dead end, a locked door. But there was another key. The man who had been there with him, all those years ago. The man whose whispered warning he had finally remembered.

“He knows,” Leo said to James, who had been watching him with a pained expression. “My dad knows exactly what it is. And he’s terrified of it.” He scrolled through his contacts again, his thumb hovering over the name ‘Grandpa Vance.’ “I have to talk to my grandfather.”

He pressed call. It rang once, twice, before someone picked up. But the voice that answered was not the frail, reedy tone of his grandfather. It was his uncle’s.

“Mark?” Leo said, confused. “What are you doing answering Grandpa’s phone?”

“Leo,” his Uncle Mark’s voice was calm, but with a hard, unyielding edge Leo knew all too well. It was the voice he used when cornering a salesman or putting down a sick animal. “It’s the middle of the night. What’s so important you have to call and wake up an old man?”

“I need to talk to him. It’s an emergency.”

“He’s sleeping. And he’s not well, Leo. You know that. His mind… it comes and goes. The last thing he needs is you calling him up in a panic about some college nightmare.”

The excuse was too smooth, too practiced. Leo could hear the lie coiling beneath the words. “How did you know I was panicking?”

A brief pause. “Your father called me,” Mark said, his voice turning colder. “He told me about the nonsense you were spouting. Listen to me, and listen good. You leave your grandfather alone. He’s been through enough. All that business with the house… it’s better left in the past.”

“What business?” Leo pressed, clutching the phone so tightly his knuckles were white. “What happened in that house?” He could feel it, the truth, right there on the other side of the line, shielded by his uncle’s deliberate obstruction.

“Leave him be, Leo,” the voice was no longer placating; it was a clear, unambiguous command. A threat. “For his own good. And for your own good.”

The second click was even more final than the first. He was cut off again. Stonewalled.

Leo slowly lowered the phone, a horrifying understanding dawning in his exhausted mind. This wasn't just a secret. It was a conspiracy. A conspiracy of silence with him on the outside and his entire family guarding the walls. They weren’t protecting him from a scary story; they were protecting the story itself. They were hiding the creature. His father’s panicked anger, his uncle’s veiled threats—they were the actions of zookeepers whose most dangerous animal had just escaped its cage.

They had known. His whole life, they had known what lived in that house. They had let him believe it was a funny story about beans while they knew the horrifying truth. And they had left him to face it alone.

He looked at James, the cold dread in his gut solidifying into a hard, angry resolve. The fear was still there, a shivering, terrible thing. But now, it had a companion: rage.

“They’re lying to me,” Leo said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Both of them. They’re hiding something.” He shoved his phone into his pocket and started walking back towards their room, his purpose clear.

“What are you doing?” James asked, following close behind.

Leo stopped at the doorway and looked back at his friend, his eyes burning with a desperate, feverish light.

“They won’t tell me the truth over the phone,” he said. “So I’m going to make them tell me to my face.” He took a deep breath, the foul, sweet scent from his room a confirmation of his new mission. “Pack a bag, James. We’re going back.”