Jeff’s breath came in ragged bursts as he squirmed against the ropes. His wrists chafed against the rough fibres, each movement drawing fresh pain. The chair beneath him was warm and solid—wooden, he guessed—but the darkness robbed him of certainty. He couldn’t even see his hands.
A bead of sweat traced a slow path down his temple. Where am I? His thoughts raced. How did I get here?
He strained against his bonds, teeth gritted, but the ropes only dug in deeper.
Then, a sound pierced the silence—a wail, faint but unmistakable.
“Please… please!”
Jeff froze, his heart pounding harder. He held his breath, listening. Surely, he’d imagined it.
“Please! Help me!”
The voice came again, sharper now, and Jeff’s stomach turned to lead. He recognised it.
“Rebecca?” he rasped, then louder, “Mum!”
“Save me, Josh! Please, save me!”
“No!” Jeff’s voice cracked as he fought harder against the restraints. “I’m coming, Mum! Hold on!”
“Help… please!”
Each plea felt like a knife twisting in his chest. He thrashed against the ropes, but his strength was no match for the tight knots. Then, abruptly, he stopped.
A glow cut through the darkness—a soft, golden light that made him squint.
A boy stood before him, bathed in that otherworldly radiance. His school uniform—white shirt, black trousers, and white trainers—was spotless, but his pale face bore tear-streaked paths. He clutched a black backpack to his chest, his lips moving in whispers Jeff couldn’t hear.
The boy looked achingly familiar, yet wrong. Jeff’s breath hitched. It wasn’t just a memory—it was him. Or rather, his twin.
The image jolted something loose in Jeff’s mind. The memory surged forward, vivid and terrible.
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Seventeen years earlier.
A young boy stood by a freshly dug grave, his small body trembling like a leaf in the wind. The brown shorts and white T-shirt he wore were no match for the chill that seeped into his bones. Beside him, a woman—young, calm, and unnervingly composed—watched as men in dark suits lowered a white coffin into the earth.
The boy’s wide eyes stayed fixed on the coffin even as soil began to cover it. He flinched with each shovelful of dirt, his trembling growing worse.
“Jeff Anderson,” the woman said softly, her voice as smooth as velvet but cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins.
When the grave was sealed, the men turned to her. She gave a curt nod, and they left without a word.
The woman crouched, her serene smile never faltering. “Now,” she said, cupping the boy’s tear-streaked face, “you will be Jeff Anderson.”
The boy shook his head violently, his hands clawing at his chest as though to stop his racing heart.
She leaned closer, her tone sharpening. “You’ll replace your twin brother. He’s gone now, and you’ll take his place.”
The boy whimpered, his knees buckling.
The woman’s grip tightened. “Good,” she whispered. “Be scared. Remember this moment. Because if you ever betray me, I won’t just kill your sister—I’ll bury you alive. Just like I buried Jeff.”
Her words were a dagger, and the boy crumpled under their weight.
“Shh,” she cooed, pressing a finger to his trembling lips. “No crying, Josh. As long as you do as I say, you’ll be fine.” She wiped his tears with a practised gentleness that only deepened the horror in her eyes.
A gruff voice broke the moment. “Rose.”
The woman rose to her feet, her smile softening as she turned to the man—bald, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a police uniform.
“Adam,” she greeted.
“Is this the boy?” The man’s gaze dropped to the trembling child.
Rose nodded. “He’ll leave with you now and join his parents. Jeff’s parents.” She glanced back at the boy. “They’ve been looking for him for weeks. They’ll never know the difference.”
Adam gave a solemn nod and took the boy’s hand. Rose kissed the boy’s forehead before stepping away, her smile never wavering.
Jeff’s eyes burned as the memory faded. He blinked back tears, staring at the glowing boy before him.
“Jeff…” he whispered.
But before he could say more, a sinister laugh echoed around him, low and guttural. Jeff’s head snapped up, but the boy was gone.
“Who’s there?” Jeff’s voice trembled as the chair screeched against the floor, his struggles growing frantic. “Show yourself!”
The laughter grew louder, mingling with footsteps—a relentless march drawing closer.
“Help! Someone, please!”
Icy fingers clamped down on his wrists, holding him in place. Jeff gasped, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
“I told you I’d come for you,” a voice hissed, low and venomous.
Jeff’s blood ran cold.
“Alicia,” he choked.
Jeff’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as though he’d just surfaced from deep water. Tears traced silent paths down his cheeks, and his fingers dug into the fabric of the two-seater sofa beneath him. His surroundings slowly came into focus—the soft hum of the refrigerator, the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air, and the warm glow of the living room lamp.
“Jeff!”
The sharp concern in Mrs Anderson’s voice cut through the haze. She was kneeling beside him, her brow furrowed, one hand gripping his arm.
“Did you have a nightmare?” she asked, her voice trembling as her eyes fixed on the tears streaking his face.
Jeff blinked, his lips parting, but no words came. The vivid remnants of his dream—or was it a memory?—clung to him like cobwebs, impossible to shake.
Across the room, Jason froze, the refrigerator door halfway open. He turned his head, his gaze flitting between his mother and Jeff, a hint of unease shadowing his usual nonchalance.
“Jeff?” Jason’s voice was quieter, hesitant.
Jeff exhaled shakily, brushing the tears from his cheeks as he tried to gather himself. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though his voice betrayed him with its rawness.
Mrs Anderson didn’t look convinced. She reached for his hand, her warmth grounding him, even as her worried eyes searched his face.
“Whatever it was,” she said gently, “You’re safe, Jeff.”
But as Jeff’s heart began to steady, a single thought lingered, cold and unrelenting: Am I?