On the Verge of Death (Chapter 9)
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The night breeze drifted in through the slightly open window. The thin curtains swayed gently, making a rustling sound that felt like a faint whisper.
Mr. Damar pulled the curtains tightly shut, his heart still pounding from seeing the figure of the little boy. He turned to Ustadz Rafi. "Ustadz... if they're really going to pick Aris up tomorrow night, that means..."
"There's no time," Ustadz Rafi interrupted quietly, his voice even but sharp. "We have to finish tonight, and if we move him, Aris might not survive either. Otherwise, his soul could be dragged deeper, and when that happens... his body won't be able to accept him back."
Mr. Damar swallowed hard, staring at his nephew, who was still lying there. Aris's breathing was starting to calm, but his face remained pale and bloodless.
Suddenly... knock... knock... knock... A knock came from the bedroom door.
Mr. Damar turned his head abruptly, hesitating to open it. “Who… this late at night?”
Ustadz Rafi raised his hand, signaling for silence. The door shook gently, as if someone was standing outside, pressing the handle.
Then a woman's voice came from behind the door, soft, almost a whisper. “It's me. Open the door.”
Mr. Damar immediately paled. It was… his wife's voice.
He almost stood up, but Ustadz Rafi glared at him. “Remember what I said. Don't believe it, even if the voice sounds familiar.”
The voice came again, louder this time. “Damar… why did you lock the door? I'm cold outside.”
Mr. Damar clamped his mouth shut, his body trembling. Cold sweat trickled down his temples. He knew his wife couldn't possibly be in Aris's boarding room tonight.
Suddenly… thump… thump… thump…! The door banged loudly, making the wooden frame vibrate. The woman's voice turned hoarse, a grimace. “OPEN! OPEN NOW!”
Ustadz Rafi immediately stood up, reciting the verse aloud, his hand pressed against the door. Slowly… the banging sound weakened, then disappeared, leaving a tense silence.
But the silence was short-lived. From under Aris's bed, a scraping sound was heard… like long nails scratching the floor. srekkk… srekkk…
Mr. Damar crouched slowly, trying to peek under the bed. But before he could see, a small, pale hand poked out and slapped the floor twice.
Then a child's voice came from the darkness under the bed. "Play with me, Uncle."
Mr. Damar jerked back, almost falling. Ustadz Rafi turned quickly, his face serious. He opened a small bag containing several sheets of paper with verses on it, then placed them around Aris's bed.
"He's starting to push the boundaries," Ustadz Rafi said softly. "That child… isn't just a shadow. He's carrying the key to that hallway."
Mr. Damar swallowed, his voice trembling. "So… what should we do now, Ustadz?"
Ustadz Rafi stared at the cracked mirror still hanging on the wall. The crack was now wider, and through it, a long, dark hospital corridor could be seen faintly.
“If we leave it alone… tomorrow night Aris will truly disappear. The only way…” Ustadz Rafi took a deep breath. “…you have to go in there with me, Damar.”
Mr. Damar fell silent. He stared at the mirror with wide eyes, his body trembling. The sound of a small child's breathing could be heard again… this time from inside the mirror, getting closer.
Mr. Damar stood stiffly in front of the cracked mirror. His breathing was heavy, as if a weight were pressing down on his chest. Through the crack, he could faintly see a long, gray hallway. Silent, cold, and empty… except for the sound of small footsteps running away, echoing within.
“Uncle… come on…” the small child's voice came faintly from behind the glass, sending shivers down his spine.
Mr. Damar rubbed his face roughly, trying to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. But Ustadz Rafi's gaze reassured him. “Calm down, Damar. That’s not an ordinary hallway. You just saw it… you weren’t actually there.”
Mr. Damar swallowed. “Then… is Aris there?”
Ustadz Rafi nodded slowly. “His soul was dragged away. And if they really are coming to get him tomorrow night… we can’t wait any longer.”
Suddenly, Aris, who had been lying still, writhed. His lips moved, a soft voice coming out without opening his eyes, “Don’t… don’t follow them… it’s so dark.”
Mr. Damar grabbed Aris’s hand, cold as ice. His tears fell uncontrollably. “Hang in there, son. Uncle’s here.”
Ustadz Rafi immediately took out a piece of paper with a spell written on it and stuck it to the cracked mirror frame. As soon as it was attached, the glass vibrated subtly. From inside the hallway, a low growl could be heard… like an angry, disturbed animal. The room grew colder. The overhead fluorescent light flickered, making a buzzing sound.
“Damar,” Ustadz Rafi’s voice was heavy, “you’re indigo. You can see more clearly than I can. If you’re capable, you should be the guide. You’re the one who can call Aris to stop him from getting any further away.”
Mr. Damar wiped his face, fear clearly visible. But as soon as he saw Aris’s increasingly weak body, his doubts began to fade. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Mr. Damar closed his eyes, following Ustadz Rafi’s instructions. His breathing was ragged and uneven, cold sweat trickling down his temples. When he opened his eyes again… the world around him had changed.
The cramped room had disappeared. It was replaced by a long, dark, damp, and bone-chilling hospital corridor. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered, some of them going out, making a ticking sound like the ticking of an old clock.
At the end of the hallway, he saw Aris, wearing his usual black jacket. But his face was pale, his eyes blank, staring off into space. It was as if something was calling him from the darkness.
“Aris…!” Mr. Damar’s voice was hoarse, calling out.
Aris slowly turned his head. His face remained blank, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
Suddenly, from the other side of the hallway, the hospital room doors opened one by one. Creek… creek… From each door, the figures of patients with emaciated bodies, shattered faces, and blank eyes stumbled out. They bent down, dragging their feet, heading toward Aris.
Mr. Damar took a step back, his chest pounding erratically. “Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice choked.
One of the patients turned to him. Her face was half destroyed, as if burned, and her mouth moved softly: “You don’t belong here.”
Mr. Damar covered his mouth, holding back a scream. He knew that if he panicked, Aris would be even further away. Trembling, he continued to stare at his nephew. “Aris! Don’t go with them! Look at Uncle, son!”
Aris raised his hand slightly, as if trying to reach out. But suddenly… a towering black shadow appeared behind him. Its body was large, shapeless, only two glowing red eyes stared straight at Mr. Damar.
A deep voice echoed in the hallway, like a whisper mixed with a growl. “He… belongs… to us…”
The hallway immediately shook. The lights shattered one by one, creating flashes of light. The figures of the patients grew larger, creeping from each side of the hallway, approaching Aris.
Mr. Damar forced his way forward, though his knees were weak. “No! He doesn’t belong to you!” he shouted hoarsely.
Aris stared at his uncle for a moment. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. His lips moved, this time softly: “Uncle… help me.”
And before Mr. Damar could reach his hand—the hallway collapsed. Pitch-black darkness swallowed everything. Mr. Damar jerked awake, his body swaying. His breath was labored, as if he had just run a long distance. He returned to his boarding room, beside Aris’s still limp body.
Ustadz Rafi stared at him seriously. "You saw it, right?"
Mr. Damar could only nod, his face filled with fear. Ustadz Rafi took a deep breath. "Then, we really only have one night left. If we fail... Aris won't come back."
The room was silent. Only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard, accompanying the growing sense of dread.
To be continued.