Chapter 4: The Man Who Wasn’t Missing. Horror Thriller Web Novel 'It’s Me, Mom—Let Me In' - A Mind-Bending Horror Thriller That Redefines Fear

 

Chapter 4: The Man Who Wasn’t Missing

The lights went out.

Not the usual kind of darkness.

Not a power outage.

This was thick. Heavy.

Like the house had exhaled all the light out of the room.

Stuart’s hand flew to his gun.

"Mrs. Langley?" His voice was calm and controlled. Too controlled.

A silence stretched between them.

Then—

A whisper.

"You should leave now, Inspector."

Not from Debra.

From the stairs.

His body locked up.

Because the voice wasn’t hers.

It wasn’t even Daniel’s.

It was his.

His own damn voice.

A chill rippled down his spine.

"Mrs. Langley, turn the lights back on." He tightened his grip on the gun.

No response.

The silence felt like teeth.

Then—

A creak.

From above.

A slow, heavy footstep on the stairs.

Stuart’s fingers flexed around the grip of his weapon.

"Who else is in this house?"

No answer.

Then—

Another creak.

Closer.

Something was coming down.

"Mrs. Langley, who is upstairs?" His voice was sharper now, edged with something he hadn’t felt in years.

Something like fear.

Another step.

Then another.

Too slow.

Like whoever—or whatever—was moving wasn’t walking.

But testing the weight of each step.

Making sure he could hear it.

Stuart lifted the gun.

The darkness shifted.

Something was there.

He could feel it.

Watching.

Waiting.

Then—

A voice.

Not his own.

Not Debra’s.

Not Daniel’s.

Something else.

Something older.

"You took too long."

And then—

The thing on the stairs moved fast.

Too fast.

Straight for him.

The darkness lunged.

A shape rushed down the stairs—fast, too fast—a blur of movement and shifting angles that didn’t make sense.

Inspector Stuart fired.

Once.

Twice.

The gunshots roared through the house—brief bursts of light that split the dark like jagged teeth.

But they hit nothing.

Nothing at all.

Then—

The air around him changed.

A whisper curled into his ear, close, too close.

"That won’t work, Inspector."

The voice was his.

Not an imitation.

Not a mockery.

His exact voice.

Like someone had peeled it off him and put it on.

Stuart spun, aiming the gun toward the sound—

But the darkness swallowed his own movement.

The gun felt heavier.

His limbs felt wrong.

Something was inside the dark with him.

Something that knew him.

A flicker of sound—not quite laughter, not quite breathing.

And then—

"Do you want to see what you left behind?"

His stomach twisted.

"What?" His own voice didn’t sound right—too hollow, too distant.

A light flickered on.

Not from the ceiling.

Not from a lamp.

From the staircase.

Something crawled into the glow.

And Stuart’s mind fractured.

Because it was him.

Or—something that had been him once.

His face, his uniform, his own damn badge glinting under the light.

But the eyes—

God, the eyes.

Sewn shut.

Black thread crisscrossed over the sockets, tight and perfect, as if someone had spent a lot of time sealing them closed.

And the mouth—

It opened.

The lips pulled apart in slow, sticky strips.

And inside—

Inside was Daniel.

Curled up.

Small.

Blinking.

Like a child hiding in a closet.

A whisper slithered through the house.

"You left us there, Inspector."

Stuart’s entire body locked.

"No."

The thing wearing his own face smiled.

"Yes."

The voice wasn’t his anymore.

It was Daniel’s.

And then—

The thing stood.

And the stitches over the eyes split open.

But there weren’t eyes behind them.

Just more mouths.

More teeth.

And they were all smiling.

Stuart staggered back.

His boots slipped on the wet floor.

A creak from behind him—Debra.

Or what had once been Debra.

"Told you," she murmured.

Stuart’s breath hitched.

"Told me what?"

Her lips peeled back.

"You took too long."

And then—

 The lights died.

The darkness swallowed everything.

Inspector Stuart didn’t breathe.

He didn’t move.

Somewhere in the black, the thing wearing his face still stood on the stairs.

Somewhere behind him, Debra Langley wasn’t Debra Langley.

And somewhere else—

Somewhere inside the walls, inside the air, inside the bones of the house—

Something was listening.

Then—

The whispers started.

Not one voice.

Not two.

Hundreds.

Soft.

Laughing.

Repeating his name.

"Stuart."

"Inspector Stuart."

"Stuuuuaaaart."

They coiled around him like fingers trailing over his skin.

Stuart’s heartbeat thundered.

"Who’s there?" His own voice sounded thin, distant.

The whispers shuddered to a stop.

A breath.

Then—

A single voice.

One that should have been impossible.

"You already know."

Stuart’s lungs collapsed.

That voice—

It was his father’s.

But his father had been dead for fifteen years.

Stuart’s grip tightened on the gun.

"That’s not possible."

A low chuckle.

Then—

Another voice.

"Isn’t it?"

His mother’s voice.

No.

No.

He took a shaking step back.

"This is a trick."

The voices laughed.

Not loudly.

Soft.

Amused.

Like someone whispering a joke into a dying man’s ear.

Then—

Another voice.

Not his father.

Not his mother.

Not Daniel.

Not Debra.

This one came from everywhere.

From inside the house itself.

From inside his own head.

It spoke his name.

"Stuart."

A breath against his ear.

He whirled—

But there was no one there.

Then—

The house inhaled.

The walls bulged.

The ceiling swelled.

The air was pulling him in, dragging him deeper, deeper, deeper.

Like lungs taking a breath.

And Stuart—

Stuart was the air it was trying to swallow.

Then—

The thing on the stairs moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

It was in front of him before he could blink.

And its mouth—

Its mouth peeled open.

"You’re already inside, Inspector."

And then—

It swallowed him whole.

Stuart didn’t feel himself hit the ground.

Because there was no ground.

No walls.

No house.

Just falling.

The thing had swallowed him, but it wasn’t a thing.

It was the house itself.

And now—

He was inside it.

Not in a room.

Not in a hallway.

Inside the walls.

Inside the breath.

His body jerked and twisted.

The air was thick.

Warm.

Like he was inside a throat.

Or a lung.

Something wet brushed his cheek.

He flinched.

"Stuart."

The whispers again.

Only this time—

They were under his skin.

Moving.

Digging.

Like fingernails pressing into his veins.

"You took too long."

"Too long."

"Too long."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

No.

No, he was still in the house.

Still in the Langley case.

Still in the real world.

Then—

A hand grabbed his ankle.

Small fingers.

Cold fingers.

"Inspector?"

His eyes snapped open.

And there was Daniel.

Or—what had once been Daniel.

His skin stretched wrong.

His mouth is too wide.

His eyes were black as oil.

And behind him—

The walls moved.

Bulging.

Shifting.

Faces pressed out from inside them.

Screaming.

Some were strangers.

Some were familiar.

One of them—

One of them was Stuart.

"What the hell—"

Daniel tilted his head.

"You didn’t listen."

Stuart jerked back.

The faces in the walls rippled, twisted, grinned.

His own face—his own reflection—smiled at him.

"You’ve been here before."

His stomach dropped.

"No," he whispered.

Daniel crawled closer.

"Yes."

Then—

The walls split open.

And the rest of him stepped out.

Another Stuart.

But not right.

His skin peeled at the edges.

His eyes were stitched shut.

His mouth split from ear to ear.

And he spoke.

"You already belong here."

Stuart screamed.

And the house swallowed him again.

Inspector Stuart plunged deeper.

Falling, twisting, sinking into something alive.

The house had taken him, swallowed him whole—but it wasn’t done.

It was reshaping him.

Making him fit.

The air wasn’t air anymore.

It was thick.

Like lungs filled with liquid.

Like something breathing around him, inside him.

The walls pressed closer.

Soft. Fleshy.

And then—

They opened.

A sudden rush of light, blinding.

And Stuart—

Fell forward.

Onto pavement.

Somewhere Else

The rain had stopped.

The night was still.

The house—gone.

Instead—

He was standing on a quiet street.

A town that looked just like his.

But wasn’t.

Because something was off.

The buildings were too perfect.

The streetlights hummed too loudly.

And worst of all—

No one was outside.

No cars.

No movement.

Just the feeling that—

Someone was watching.

"Stuart."

His name.

Spoken softly.

He turned—

And saw a missing person poster.

His own face.

Pasted to a telephone pole.

MISSING.

FOR FIVE YEARS.

His stomach clenched.

No.

No, this was wrong.

He had just been in the Langley house.

Just saw Daniel.

Just seen—

"Oh my God."

A voice behind him.

A woman.

Stuart turned—

And there she was.

Debra Langley.

But not the thing that had been Debra.

The real one.

She looked different.

Tired.

Older.

Like someone who had spent five years mourning.

She stepped forward, her eyes wide, shining.

"It’s you."

His mouth felt dry.

"Mrs. Langley—?"

Then—

She grabbed him.

Held him tight, trembling.

"You came back."

His pulse stuttered.

"Back from where?"

She pulled away, staring.

"You’ve been missing, Inspector. For five years."

A chill slid through his ribs.

Five years.

He had just—he had just been inside the house.

Hadn’t he?

He looked around again—this version of his town.

Perfect.

Too perfect.

And then—

Something shifted.

In the reflections of the storefronts.

Not his reflection.

The other one.

The thing with stitched eyes.

It smiled at him.

And then—

It stepped out of the glass.

Back into the real world.

Debra’s hands were still on him.

Gripping his arms, squeezing just enough to tell him she was real.

Or maybe to convince herself that he was.

Her breath came in short gasps. Trembling.

"You disappeared, Stuart."

The words sank into him.

Five years.

Gone.

No. No, that wasn’t possible. He had just—just been in the Langley house.

Hadn’t he?

"You—" His throat felt dry, foreign. "You said I was missing."

Debra nodded quickly.

"Vanished, just like—" She cut herself off.

His stomach knotted.

"Like who?"

A hesitation.

Then—

"Like Daniel."

Something cold slid into his bones.

"Daniel?"

Debra’s fingers tightened.

"I saw you that night, Stuart." Her voice was just above a whisper. "Five years ago. You were in my house. And then—"

Her breath shuddered.

"Then you weren’t."

The streetlight above them hummed louder.

The air changed.

Something in the glass windows of the storefronts warped.

Stuart turned—

And froze.

His reflection was wrong.

It wasn’t standing like him.

It wasn’t his.

The stitches were still there, over its eyes.

The mouth was still wrong, too wide, too full of something that wasn’t teeth.

And the worst part?

It was stepping out of the glass.

"No." His own voice. But not his own voice.

Debra gasped.

Stuart’s hands went numb.

His own reflection was moving toward him.

"You left me behind."

The voice was him.

And not him.

"I took your place. I got to live."

The stitch-eyed version of him smiled.

A slow, stretching grin.

"But now, you’re back."

Stuart stumbled back, shaking his head.

"I don’t understand—"

"You should." The thing cocked its head. "You were in the house too long, Stuart. It made another you."

The words hit like a bullet.

"Another me?"

The reflection laughed.

"Where do you think you’ve been for five years?"

Debra stepped back.

Horrified.

"That’s not possible," Stuart whispered.

The thing inched closer.

"Then tell me something, Inspector." It grinned wider.

"Where have you been?"

His pulse faltered.

No memory.

No answers.

Nothing but the house.

And then—

Debra’s breath hitched.

"Oh my God."

She wasn’t looking at the reflection anymore.

She was looking at him.

"Stuart." Her voice shook.

"Your eyes."

His blood turned to ice.

"What?"

"There’s something… under your skin."

And then—

He felt it.

A slow, twitching movement beneath his eyelids.

Like something was waking up.

Like something had been waiting for him to realize it was there.

The thing that took his name laughed.

"I think it’s time for you to go back, Inspector."

And then—

Everything split open.

To Be Continued.....

Chapter 3: https://storylinespectrum.blogspot.com/2025/03/chapter-3-inspector-rain-and-grave-that.html

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