Jacob didn’t stop driving. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. Noel was still unconscious in the backseat, her breathing shallow but steady. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Boiled One, about Lydia, about the sheriff who had sacrificed himself so they could get away.
He needed a place to hide, a place where they could regroup and figure out what to do next. Without thinking, his mind drifted to the one place that had always been his sanctuary—his old home in the woods, the second home he and his family had bought years ago.
It had been abandoned for years now, ever since the accident. Ever since the day his family had been taken from him. But now, it was the only place that felt safe.
Jacob and Noel had spent the past few months living as quietly as possible, hiding away from the world. After everything they had been through, it felt like they were constantly looking over their shoulders. They found an old cabin, far from any roads or towns, tucked deep within a forest. Its isolation made it the perfect place to disappear. The trees surrounding the house were tall, dense, and thick with leaves, acting like a natural wall between them and the rest of the world.
The cabin itself wasn’t large, but it had enough space for them to make it a home. The windows were boarded up with thick planks of wood, blocking any view from the outside. Inside, they had tinted the glass further and covered every small crack that might let light escape. They didn’t want to take any chances—if the Boiled One was still out there, they couldn’t risk being seen.
The house felt like a fortress, a prison of safety. Jacob made sure every room had its own light, from small lamps to flashlights. They didn’t dare turn on any large lights at night, but the soft glow from the lamps made them feel secure, even if just a little.
When they did go out, they took every precaution. It had become a routine—early in the morning or late at night, they’d sneak into town to buy groceries or supplies. Jacob would drive cautiously, always avoiding the main roads, making sure they couldn’t be followed. He and Noel wore long coats and hats, their faces hidden behind doctor masks. They made sure to blend in with the people around them, never drawing attention.
At home, they lived in the shadows, constantly reminded of what could be lurking outside. They rarely used the TV, only turning it on to watch a movie once in a while. Even then, they kept the volume low, afraid that even the smallest noise might alert the Boiled One to their presence. It was a tense way to live, but at least they were alive.
Despite the fear that hung over them like a dark cloud, something else began to grow between Jacob and Noel. Over time, they began to lean on each other more. They had both been through so much, and the shared trauma forged a bond that was hard to ignore. They started spending more time together, laughing over small things, trying to find bits of joy in the quiet moments.
Jacob would cook for them sometimes, surprising Noel with meals he’d learned to make years ago. They’d play games together, small board games or card games that they had found lying around the house. It was in those moments—when they were together and distracted from the fear—that they felt almost normal again.
One evening, after a particularly stressful day, they decided to sneak into a theater. They disguised themselves as best they could, wearing long coats and the masks they had grown used to. It was risky, but they were desperate for a taste of normal life. Sitting in the back of the theater, watching a movie in near silence, felt like freedom. They didn’t talk much, but their hands found each other’s, holding on tightly as if the other might disappear.
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Jacob and Noel found themselves growing closer. It wasn’t just the fear that brought them together anymore—it was something deeper. They started to trust each other, not just with their safety, but with their hearts.
One day, they discovered a waterfall deep in the forest. It wasn’t large, but it was beautiful. The sound of the water crashing against the rocks was soothing, a sharp contrast to the constant tension they lived under. They spent the afternoon there, sitting by the water, talking about everything and nothing. The fear seemed to melt away as they dipped their feet into the cool water, laughing and splashing each other like kids.
That afternoon, under the soft light of the sun filtering through the trees, they made love for the first time. It was tender and slow, a moment of pure connection that neither of them had felt in a long time. It wasn’t just about passion—it was about finding comfort in each other, about healing the wounds they both carried.
They stayed by the waterfall for hours, holding each other close, forgetting the outside world for just a little while. When they finally made their way back to the cabin, it felt like something had shifted between them. They weren’t just survivors anymore. They were two people who had found each other in the middle of a nightmare, and somehow, despite everything, they had fallen in love.
The months that followed were filled with moments like that. They did everything they could to keep each other smiling, to help each other forget the horrors of the past. They’d watch movies at home, sneaking out to the theater when they felt brave enough. They’d explore the woods around the cabin, always finding new little places to escape to—hidden trails, quiet clearings, and that beautiful waterfall where they had shared their first real moment of peace.
Their love was strong, built on the ashes of everything they had lost. It was a love that helped them move forward, even as they stayed hidden from the world.
One cool evening, as Jacob and Noel were sitting on the porch of their cabin, they noticed movement in the trees. At first, they both tensed, their minds racing to the worst possible scenario. Was it the Boiled One? Had he found them? But as the figure came closer, they realized it wasn’t a threat at all. It was a dog, a large and scruffy one, wandering out from the woods.
The dog was thin and dirty, clearly having spent time on its own in the wild. It approached cautiously, its head low, tail wagging slightly. Jacob and Noel exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. It had been months since they’d seen any living thing besides each other. Slowly, Jacob extended his hand, and the dog sniffed it cautiously before licking his fingers.
“He must’ve been lost,” Jacob said quietly. “Maybe a stray.”
Noel knelt down beside the dog, her eyes softening as she petted its rough fur. “Poor thing. He must’ve been out here for a while.”
The dog looked up at them with wide, hopeful eyes. There was something comforting about him, something that made them feel less alone. Without much more discussion, they decided to take him in. After all, the cabin had more than enough room, and having a dog around might help them feel safer. If the Boiled One ever came near, the dog would be the first to notice.
They named him Max. For the next few days, Max settled in, eating the food they gave him and following them around the cabin. He seemed loyal and protective, sticking close to their sides as if he had found his new family. At night, he’d sleep at the foot of their bed, a quiet guardian in the dark.
The presence of Max brought a sense of peace to Jacob and Noel. It was as if their little family had grown, and they felt less like they were hiding and more like they were building a life together. They even allowed themselves to hope that maybe, just maybe, they were finally safe.
But that sense of peace was short-lived.
One night, Max started barking furiously. It was the dead of night, the kind of stillness that made every noise seem louder, sharper. Jacob jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced over at Noel, who was already sitting up, her eyes wide with fear.
“What’s wrong with him?” she whispered.
Jacob got out of bed and quickly made his way downstairs, following the sound of Max’s frantic barks. The dog was at the front door, scratching at it desperately, as if he wanted to get out. Jacob hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Something felt off. Why was Max so eager to get outside?
Noel appeared behind him, her voice tense. “What do you think it is?”
Jacob didn’t answer. He reached for the door, his fingers trembling slightly as he turned the knob and opened it.
And there, standing just beyond the threshold, was the Boiled One.
Jacob’s breath caught in his throat. The creature was exactly as he remembered—its grotesque, stretched face, its skin bubbling and shifting like it was constantly boiling. Its long, stick-like arms twitched and shook as if barely able to contain their own movement. But its face—the way it watched them—was the worst of all.
The Boiled One’s mouth didn’t move, but its voice echoed through the air, soft and menacing.
"Your time is coming to an end. Soon, I will rip your spines out and make you one with me."
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Jacob’s eyes darted down to Max, who had suddenly gone still. The dog, who had seemed so full of life just moments ago, was frozen in place. And then, slowly, horrifyingly, Max began to change. His body twisted and contorted, his fur melting away to reveal a fleshy, pulsating mass underneath. Jacob could barely breathe as he realized the truth.
Max had been a part of the Boiled One all along—a decoy sent to find them.
The Boiled One’s long arm moved with blinding speed. Before Jacob could even react, it shot forward and stabbed straight through his chest. He stumbled back, the pain radiating through his entire body, but he couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. His mind was spinning, trying to understand how things had gone so wrong, so fast.
Noel’s voice cut through the haze. “Jacob!”
She had rushed down the stairs, her eyes wide with horror as she saw the Boiled One standing there, its arm impaled through Jacob’s chest. Without thinking, she grabbed the flare gun they had kept by the door for emergencies and fired.
The flare hit the Boiled One in the mouth, and for the first time, the creature screamed. Its voice was a high-pitched, agonized wail, and it recoiled from Jacob, its body twitching violently.
"It burns!" it shrieked, thrashing as smoke rose from the wound.
Noel didn’t stop. She reloaded the flare gun and fired again, hitting the Boiled One in the same spot. Each time she pulled the trigger, the creature’s screams grew louder, more desperate. It let go of Jacob, and he collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his chest.
“Noel…” he whispered, his voice weak.
She ran to him, pulling him toward her, but she never stopped firing. Over and over, she shot at the Boiled One, each flare lighting up the night as the creature’s body began to smoke and sizzle. It howled in agony, stumbling backward as Noel pushed it further and further away from the cabin.
When she finally ran out of flares, the Boiled One collapsed into a pile of ash. For a brief, terrifying moment, Noel thought it was over—that they had won. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement ,it was another decoy.
The Boiled One reappeared, standing just beyond the front door, watching them with that same twisted, monstrous grip.
Noel's heart raced as she looked at the Boiled One, standing there as if nothing had happened. Her mind spun, trying to understand how it could still be alive after everything. Jacob, barely able to move, was struggling to sit up, blood continuing to soak his shirt. He was in no condition to fight anymore.
The Boiled One’s voice echoed again, colder and more sinister than before.
"You cannot kill me. I am inevitable. Your spines will be mine."
Noel glanced at Jacob, desperation in her eyes. She had run out of flares, out of options. The creature stood between them and the outside world, and there was no escape.
With trembling hands, she turned to Jacob. “We need to get out of here. I can’t fight it alone.”
Jacob, pale and weak, struggled to speak. His voice was little more than a whisper. “I’ll… I’ll buy you time. Go, get out of here.”
Noel shook her head fiercely. “I’m not leaving you behind, Jacob! We’re in this together. We have to be smart.”
She rushed to the side table, rummaging through the few items they had stored there. A knife, some matches, an emergency flashlight none of it would help against something like this. But before she could think of anything else, Jacob’s hand grabbed hers.
“Noel,” he said quietly, his voice filled with something she hadn’t heard before—determination. “I’m going to face it.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Jacob, you can’t! You’re too hurt, you—”
But Jacob was already trying to stand, his face twisted in pain as he forced himself to his feet. He reached out to steady himself on the wall, breathing heavily, but his eyes remained focused on the Boiled One. The creature hadn’t moved yet, as if watching them struggle amused it.
“I’ll be back,” Jacob said, his voice cracking slightly from the pain. “Dead or alive, I’m not letting this thing win. But if I don’t make it… Noel, you’ve got to go on. You have to live.”
Before she could protest, Jacob reached out and gently, almost tenderly, placed a hand on her shoulder. His face softened for a brief moment. “I leave the rest of life’s happiness to you.”
And then, without another word, Jacob turned to face the Boiled One.
Noel screamed after him, “Jacob, no! You can’t—”
But it was too late. Jacob had already taken his first step toward the creature.
The Boiled One grinned, its grotesque face splitting even wider as it watched Jacob approach. It waited, almost mockingly, as if giving him a chance. Its long, stick-like arms twitched eagerly, the desire for Jacob’s spine clear in its every movement.
“You won’t survive,” it whispered, its voice like nails scraping across stone. “I will take you, piece by piece.”
Jacob ignored the words. He gritted his teeth, his mind clouded by pain, but his determination unshaken. This was the moment—the moment where he would either win or lose everything. He had nothing left to fear.
With one final burst of energy, Jacob rushed at the Boiled One.
The creature responded in kind, its arms moving with terrifying speed, striking out like whips. Each attack sent shockwaves of pain through Jacob’s already battered body, but he kept going. Blow after blow, he charged forward, barely able to stand but refusing to give up.
They fought, their battle taking them out of the cabin and into the clearing beyond. Each strike from the Boiled One sent Jacob reeling, but he never stopped moving, never stopped pushing back. The fight took them farther and farther into the woods, toward the very waterfall where Jacob and Noel had once found peace.
Jacob's legs buckled as they reached the waterfall. He had pushed through unimaginable pain, but his body was giving out. The Boiled One stood over him, its twisted form towering in the moonlight. One of its long arms shot out, punching Jacob with brutal force, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The air was filled with the deafening roar of the waterfall, drowning out all other sounds. But Jacob could still hear the Boiled One’s voice, a cold whisper that sliced through the noise.
“This is where it ends,” it hissed. “Your spine is mine.”
The Boiled One reached out again, one of its arms extending toward Jacob’s chest. Jacob, barely conscious, felt the cold, jagged touch of its hand as it prepared to rip out his spine. The words echoed in his head—“Together, we will be still. Together, welded by love and purest connection.”
But as he lay there, staring up at the creature, something shifted in Jacob. A memory flashed through his mind—the dream, the one he had about the TV show where the Boiled One appeared. There had been text, small and almost unnoticeable, that said, "I am not God."
The realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
The Boiled One wasn’t some divine entity. It wasn’t unstoppable. It was a twisted, malevolent force, but it could be defeated. Jacob’s eyes flickered with new life, a surge of strength rising from deep within him.
As the Boiled One’s arm drew closer, Jacob gathered every last ounce of energy he had left. With a roar that echoed through the night, he grabbed the Boiled One’s arm and pushed it away, wrenching it from his chest. Flesh tore, his ribs cracked, muscles ripped apart, and his bones groaned under the strain. But Jacob did it.
“You aren’t real,” Jacob rasped, his voice barely audible over the roar of the waterfall. “You are no manifestation of God. You are nothing.”
The Boiled One screeched in response, steam rising from its body as Jacob’s words hit it like a blow. The trumpets—the sound he had heard in his dreams, the sound that always accompanied the creature—began to roar again, louder than ever before. But Jacob kept going.
“You aren’t real!” he shouted, louder this time. “You’re nothing!”
The Boiled One screamed again, its body trembling, its grotesque form beginning to waver as if it were losing its hold on reality.
Jacob, his voice hoarse and strained, forced the words out one last time, his body shaking from the effort. “You. Are. Nothing!”
The creature let out a blood-curdling scream, and in that moment, the sky opened up. Rifts, like jagged tears in the fabric of reality, appeared above them. Blood poured down from the heavens, staining the ground and mixing with the water from the falls. The Boiled One’s voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the trumpets, its form beginning to dissolve into a pool of flesh and blood.
“I am real!” it shrieked, thrashing wildly as it melted away. “I will be real again!”
But its words were lost in the noise. Jacob, barely able to stand, watched as the Boiled One disintegrated, its body collapsing into nothingness. The rifts in the sky slowly began to close, and the blood that had poured from them evaporated into mist. The trumpets fell silent.
Jacob staggered back, his body broken, his vision fading. He had won, but it had come at a terrible cost. He stumbled toward the waterfall, collapsing against a tree. His thoughts were hazy, but one thing was clear in his mind: he had done this for the future. For Noel. For all the lives the Boiled One had taken.
He closed his eyes, his body too weak to move. As he lay there, the world fading around him, he thought of his family. Of Noel. Of the life he had fought so hard to protect. And then, with a faint smile on his lips, Jacob took his final breath.
Noel woke up, her body aching from the fight. She looked around, disoriented, but quickly remembered what had happened. The Boiled One was gone. But where was Jacob?
Stumbling to her feet, she made her way through the forest, following the trail of destruction left by the battle. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the clearing near the waterfall. There, lying against a tree, was Jacob.
Her breath caught in her throat as she rushed to his side. His skin was pale, his eyes closed, and his body was still. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she touched his face.
“Jacob…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
But there was no response. Jacob was gone.
Tears streamed down Noel’s face as she cradled him in her arms. She sobbed, her body shaking with the weight of her grief. She had lost everything—her daughter, her friends, and now Jacob, the man she had come to love.
For days, Noel stayed by Jacob’s side, unable to bring herself to leave. She wept for him, for Lydia, for all the lives the Boiled One had destroyed. The forest was silent, save for the sound of the waterfall, and the world felt emptier than ever before.
But eventually, her tears ran dry. She knew she couldn’t stay here forever. Jacob had given his life to stop the Boiled One, and she couldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain.
With trembling hands, Noel dug a grave for Jacob near the waterfall, marking it with a simple stone. She carved his name into it with a knife, her heart heavy with sorrow. She made a promise to herself then—to never forget what he had done, to never let the world forget the people who had been lost.
Afterward, she made her way back to the cabin. It was empty now, a hollow reminder of the life they had shared. She gathered a few belongings—clothes, supplies, a photograph of Jacob—and then stepped outside.
The sky was clear, the rifts long gone. The world felt different, quieter, but also filled with a strange sense of peace. Noel took one last look at the cabin, at the grave she had made for Jacob, and smiled through her tears.
“I’ll never forget you,” she whispered.
And then, with a heavy heart, she got into the car and drove away, leaving the past behind. Wherever she went next, she knew that Jacob, Lydia, and all the others would always be with her. Their memories, their love, their sacrifices—they would never be forgotten but I must get rid of all of his existence, she then let go of the steering wheel letting fate take her. She crashed into a truck and died on impact.
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