Chapter 8: It Knows Her Name

The plan was simple: wait until tomorrow night, return to the house together, find the hidden basement access Marcus had described, and destroy whatever remained of Edmund Voss's belongings. They'd spent the evening preparing – gathering flashlights, crowbars, anything that might help them break through walls or pry open forgotten doors. Chloe had even researched the property records, confirming that the Riverside Psychiatric Facility had indeed operated on their land from 1943 to 1967.

But the entity wasn't going to wait for their convenience.

Liam woke at 3:17 AM to the sound of Chloe's phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand. She stirred beside him, reaching groggily for the device.

"Who's texting at this hour?" she mumbled, squinting at the screen. Then her expression changed, confusion shifting to alarm. "Liam? Did you send me something?"

"What? No, I've been asleep."

She showed him the phone. The message thread showed his contact name, with a series of texts that made his blood run cold:

Can't sleep. Thinking about you.

Are you awake?

I need to see you. Can you come downstairs?

Please, Chloe. I'm waiting by the front door.

"I didn't send those," Liam said, checking his own phone. His message history with Chloe showed no recent activity. "My phone's been off all night."

Before Chloe could respond, her phone buzzed again with another message from his contact: Why won't you answer me? I can see you're reading these.

"This isn't possible," she whispered. "How is it—"

The phone rang. Liam's contact name appeared on the screen, along with his photo – the same picture she'd taken of him laughing at the beach last summer. Chloe stared at it, her finger hovering over the answer button.

"Don't," Liam said quickly. "Whatever you do, don't answer it."

But the ringing seemed to burrow into their heads, becoming more urgent with each repetition. Finally, Chloe's finger moved without conscious direction, accepting the call.

"Chloe?" The voice that came through the speaker was unmistakably Liam's – not distorted or artificial, but perfect in every detail. "Thank God. I've been trying to reach you."

Liam felt like he was watching himself from outside his body as his own voice continued: "Something's happened. I'm downstairs, but I can't get back up to you. The stairs... something's wrong with the stairs."

"What are you talking about?" Chloe asked, looking between the phone and the real Liam sitting beside her. "You're right here."

A pause. Then: "No, I'm not. Look again, Chloe. Really look. That thing next to you isn't me."

The words hit like a physical blow. Liam watched Chloe's face as doubt crept into her eyes, her gaze flicking between him and the phone with growing uncertainty. This was how it worked, he realized. The entity didn't just mimic voices – it poisoned trust, turned love into suspicion, made people doubt their own perceptions.

"Chloe, that's not me on the phone," he said urgently. "It's the same thing that's been imitating your voice, Dan's voice—"

"How do I know you're the real one?" her voice on the phone interrupted. "How do I know that thing hasn't been fooling you this whole time? Chloe, listen to my voice. You know me. You know how I sound when I'm scared."

And it did sound scared. The voice carried all the tremulous emotion of genuine terror, the same tone Liam had used during his worst panic attacks. It was perfect mimicry layered with manipulative psychology.

"I'm scared too," the voice continued. "I'm trapped down here, and something that looks like me is trying to take my place. You have to help me."

Chloe stood up, still holding the phone, her movements mechanical. "I need to check. I need to see—"

"No!" Liam grabbed her arm. "That's what it wants. It's trying to separate us, to get you alone."

She jerked away from him, and for a moment her face was a stranger's – cold, suspicious, calculating. "How do I know you're not the fake? How do I know you haven't been lying to me this whole time?"

The phone buzzed with a text message. Chloe glanced at it, and her expression softened slightly: I love you. Please trust me. Just come downstairs and we can figure this out together.

"It's using our relationship against us," Liam said desperately. "That's what it does. It learns what we care about and twists it into a weapon."

But Chloe was already moving toward the door, drawn by the voice that sounded so perfectly like her boyfriend's. As she reached for the handle, her phone rang again. This time, the caller ID showed her mother's name and photo.

"Chloe, honey?" Her mother's voice came through clearly, tinged with worry. "Are you alright? You sounded so strange when you called earlier."

Chloe froze. "I didn't call you earlier, Mom."

"Yes, you did. Around midnight. You were crying, saying something about Liam being in trouble, that you needed to come home right away. When I tried to call you back, your phone went straight to voicemail."

The real Liam felt the room spinning. The entity was escalating, using multiple voices simultaneously, weaving a web of false communications designed to drive them apart and destroy their support systems.

"Mom, I never called you," Chloe said, her voice breaking. "I was asleep until a few minutes ago."

"But honey, it was definitely your voice. You told me about the house, about the strange things happening. You said you were scared Liam was having some kind of breakdown."

Liam watched the color drain from Chloe's face as she processed the implications. The entity hadn't just been mimicking his voice to her – it had been impersonating her to other people, spreading confusion and doubt through their entire social network.

"What exactly did I say?" Chloe asked.

"You said Liam had been acting paranoid, seeing things that weren't there. You were worried he might hurt himself, or..." Her mother's voice trailed off uncomfortably.

"Or what?"

"Or hurt you, sweetheart. You said he'd been talking about supernatural things, getting violent when you tried to reason with him. You begged me not to call the police, said you were handling it, but you sounded terrified."

The carefully constructed trap was becoming clear. The entity was building a narrative that would isolate Liam completely – painting him as unstable and dangerous while positioning itself as Chloe's protector. When it was ready to make its final move, to completely replace him, everyone in their lives would believe that Chloe was safer without him.

"Mom, none of that is true," Chloe said, but her voice lacked conviction. Liam could see the doubt creeping in, could watch as the entity's psychological manipulation took hold.

Her phone buzzed with another text from Liam's contact: Please hurry. It's getting closer. I can hear it on the stairs.

"I have to go," Chloe told her mother. "I'll call you back."

"Chloe, wait—"

She hung up and turned to Liam, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. "If that thing can sound like both of us, how do I know who to trust? How do I know you're really you?"

It was the question the entity had been building toward, the ultimate weapon in its psychological arsenal. By mimicking both of them perfectly, it had created a situation where trust became impossible, where love became a liability.

"Because," Liam said quietly, "I'm the one telling you not to go downstairs. I'm the one warning you about the danger. That thing on the phone is trying to lure you away from safety."

Chloe stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for some sign of authenticity that couldn't be faked. Finally, she nodded slightly. "You're right. The real you would never ask me to go toward danger alone."

But even as she said it, Liam could see the lingering doubt in her eyes. The entity had succeeded in poisoning their trust, injecting uncertainty into every interaction. From now on, they would both be wondering if the person they were talking to was really who they appeared to be.

Her phone rang again – this time showing Dan's name and picture.

"Don't answer it," Liam said.

"But what if it's really him? What if the thing is doing to him what it did to us?"

She answered before he could stop her.

"Chloe?" Dan's voice was breathless, panicked. "Thank God someone answered. I've been trying to reach Liam, but his phone keeps going to voicemail. Something's happening to Sarah. She's... she's not acting like herself."

The entity was expanding its web, drawing more people into its circle of manipulation. Liam realized with growing horror that it wasn't just targeting him anymore – it was systematically undermining every relationship in their lives, replacing trust with suspicion and love with fear.

"What do you mean she's not acting like herself?" Chloe asked.

"She knows things she shouldn't know. Personal things about our relationship, about conversations we had years ago. But when I ask her about recent events, she gets confused. It's like... it's like someone else is wearing her face."

Liam grabbed the phone. "Dan, where are you right now?"

"I'm at home. But Liam, I don't think this is really Sarah. I think something's happened to her."

"Listen to me very carefully," Liam said. "Get out of there. Right now. Don't pack anything, don't try to help her, just run."

"I can't leave her—"

"It's not her!" Liam shouted. "Dan, you have to trust me. That thing isn't Sarah anymore."

The line went dead.

Chloe and Liam stared at each other in the sudden silence, both realizing that their private nightmare had become something much larger and more dangerous. The entity wasn't content to simply replace Liam – it was expanding, learning, infecting their entire social network like a virus.

"We have to go back tonight," Chloe said. "We can't wait until tomorrow. If that thing is spreading to other people..."

Liam nodded grimly. Every hour they delayed gave the entity more time to establish itself, to replace more people, to build an army of familiar faces speaking with voices their loved ones trusted.

As they gathered their supplies and prepared to return to the house, Liam's phone buzzed with a final text from an unknown number: See you soon.

But it was sent from his own phone number.

The entity had learned to impersonate him so perfectly that it could even fool the phone network itself.