"Remember, the simulacrum’s fate reverberates back to you," he warned, urgency veiling his voice. He could no longer stand so close, suffocated by the weight of unspoken truths and festering secrets. "He will return, and you must brace yourself."

  "Alright," she responded with an acceptance that unnerved him. "I'll be ready."

  As he retreated into the shadowy expanse, forsaking the path for the untamed underbrush beside it, he felt the watchful demon crows take to the sky, screeching their cacophonous departure.

  Jeremiah allowed the engulfing darkness to claim him, vanishing into the obscurity he had come to call both a sanctuary and a prison.

  23

  Aunt Maggie's Fate

  Aunt Maggie didn't survive long--in fact, her earthly life met a brutal, untimely end.

  Ahmed discovered her in a horrific state—shot thrice, one bullet unforgettably lodged in her head. Her home, now a crime scene, had been ransacked, stripped of anything of value. Her husband and Tilly packed up and vanished by the next sunrise, leaving Tovah engulfed in a silence that was both heavy and piercing.

  Not that Tovah had room for more chaos in her life. Nightly, the visceral sense of being observed clung to her, stalking her regardless of her refuge—whether beneath cozy blankets or contorted under her bed, whether clutching Asher’s lighter for imagined safety or shoving it into the depths of a drawer.

  One evening, in a tentative experiment, she’d sought asylum on the living room couch, only for her father to discover her, reproach her, and send her back to her room. And yet, that eerie, vigilant presence hadn’t waned.

  Tonight was no exception.

  Alongside that inescapable feeling, a new sensation emerged—a faint, eerie creak radiated from her closet, as though its hinges were reluctantly giving way. Heart pounding, Tovah yanked her blanket overhead, sealing herself within a flimsy fabric fortress. That unseen entity—whatever or whoever was observing her—had breached her sanctuary.

  But how?

  "Don’t be afraid," whispered a voice, so peculiar and melodic that it could belong neither to the living nor the dead.

  Tovah pressed her face harder into her pillow, her body rigid with dread.

  "Don’t be afraid, little bird," the voice reiterated, emanating from no specific direction. It felt as though the very walls had learned to speak, or perhaps the air itself had gained a sentient voice.

  Though the voice lilted as if aiming to soothe, terror clamped down on Tovah’s soul. Her jaw was clenched so hard she could feel her molars grinding against each other. She hugged her pillow tightly, the pressure almost contorting the bridge of her nose.

  Her thoughts spiraled. First, it was Asher and Ruth, then Aunt Maggie, followed by the fraying threads of her immediate family. And now, this entity—what even was it?

  A part of her yearned for courage, to throw off her self-made blanket shield and face the unseen. But terror choked that fleeting bravery. Ruth, her protective older sister, was no longer there to ward off nebulous threats.

  A soft, pitiful sound bubbled up from her throat. The closet creaked ominously again. Tovah’s breath caught, her nose hurting as she shoved it even harder into the pillow.

  Her hands darted up to clasp the blanket, her knuckles whitening from the force. It caused her joints and her already-taut jaw to ache in tandem. A sob, strangled and unyielding, began to mount within her quivering form.

  Ruth was a void—an absence so profound that it was almost tangible.

  Gone. She was irrevocably, tragically gone. A self-inflicted fate, which made her a taboo subject within the four walls of the family home. Tovah emitted a feeble, yearning noise from deep within her throat. She wished she could simply melt through the floor, dissolve into nonexistence.

  Yet, that wasn't an option.

  What would Ruth have done in a situation like this? And Asher? They had both been fearless—shining beacons of courage. Tovah was paralyzed with fear, but she longed to emulate them. More than that, she longed for the ordeal to end. Neither Ruth nor Asher had lived their lives confined by fear.

  Ruth had never hidden—she faced the world head-on.

  Summoning every ounce of strength, Tovah inhaled deeply. With a singular, swift movement, she hurled her blanket off and launched herself out of bed, letting out a scream so piercing that it set her throat aflame and made her lungs quiver.

  Footsteps thundered in the hallway outside. Tovah's scream morphed into words, her voice escalating, her fists clenched at her sides. "Go away, go away, go away!"

  The door burst open, light flooding the room as Ahmed, her father, hurried to her side. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms, her body convulsing with sobs.

  "Make it go away, Abba!" Tovah shrieked with desperation as her arms snaked around his neck.

  Ahmed’s eyes darted around the room, palpable concern lacing his voice. "What am I making go away, Tovah? There's nothing here. Nothing."

  He tried to lower her back onto the bed, but she clung to him like a lifeline, her body racked with sobs. "It is here, Abba! It watches me every night. Tonight, it was in the closet!"

  With a deep sigh, Ahmed managed to extricate himself from Tovah’s grasp. He approached the closet, gently nudging the door open. Illuminated by the harsh overhead light, all that met her eyes were her clothes and her dollhouse—a shabby collection of off-brand, well-loved dolls stored neatly inside.

  A sound, pitiful and vulnerable, like that of a fledgling bird, escaped Tovah’s lips. She rubbed at her face with her hands. “It was there, Abba. You don’t believe me?”

  “I believe that sometimes, bad dreams can seem real.” Ahmed stepped back over to his daughter. “And I believe that sometimes, bad things in our world can cause bad dreams. Now back into bed.”

  Ahmed tugged the sheet down, giving Tovah an unspoken ultimatum. With a choked, forlorn sound, she complied, climbing back into her bed.

  "Tovah, life is so unforgiving at the moment, and you're so young, so fragile," he said, pulling the covers up to her chin and brushing strands of dark hair away from her forehead. "But you're showing remarkable bravery. Do you understand that?"

  "I don't feel brave." She blinked at him.

  "But that's exactly when we are most brave."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Bravery isn't about the absence of fear," Ahmed explained softly. "It's about feeling that fear acutely and choosing to live despite it."

  A weighted pause filled the room. Then, Tovah asked, "Do you think Ruth wasn't brave?"

  Ahmed hesitated, caught off guard by the question. Despite his deep love for Ruth, societal perceptions surrounding suicide had left an indelible imprint on him.

  Tovah turned her back to her father, pulling the covers tighter around her. "Ruth was brave," she declared with stubborn resolve. "And she would have believed me when I said that something was watching me."

  "Your sister believed in many things," Ahmed said, his shoulders slumping in a moment of vulnerability. "But not all those things were rooted in reality, Tovah. Ruth was..."

  He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

  Tovah sniffled audibly.

  Sounding frustrated, Ahmed drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "Go to sleep, my little bird. Tomorrow, we'll do something to lift your spirits, alright?"

  Tovah's silence spoke volumes.

  Ahmed paused in the doorway as he left, casting a final look at his daughter. "I'll leave the hallway light on for you."

  Click. The bedroom light was extinguished, leaving the hall light as the sole source of illumination. But its glow did little to dispel the darkness that instantly closed back in around Tovah.

  As soon as her father left, the oppressive sensation of being watched returned, as chilling as ever. Only now, Tovah understood what lurked behind that watchful gaze.

  It wasn't just blind fury or indiscriminate malice.

  It was a gnawing, ravenous hunger.

  And Tovah realized, with a dread that settled deep in her bones, that sooner or later she would become its next meal.

  24

  Proposal Out of Place

  "Will you marry me?" Asher dropped to one knee, his eyes sparkling as earnestly as the golden ring he extended toward her. One moment they were beside a rippling river; the next, ensconced in a nondescript building; then suddenly amidst the hustle and bustle of a market. Their surroundings shifted like the scenes in a flipbook, each transition disorienting.

  "Asher," Ruth waved her hands, attempting to steady the world around her. "You need to focus. Something's not right here."

  As if someone had finally stopped flipping through the pages of their life, the world froze. Asher remained on bended knee, his hands still offering the ring, yet his eyes were darting around the space as though trying to locate something he'd lost.

  "What's wrong with this?" Asher questioned, bewildered. "This is our home, isn't it?"

  Ruth tried to lace her voice with compassion as she responded. "You didn't propose to me here, at home." Gently pulling him to his feet, she watched as the ring dematerialized, only to reappear on her finger. Their fingers interlaced, she held his hands tightly.

  "I didn't?" His eyes were clouded with confusion.

  "You really don't remember?"

  With a shake of his head, Asher only deepened Ruth's frown. She had initially thought watching old memories might anchor him, but when that failed to make any lasting impression, she'd resorted to acting them out. Neither strategy had worked. Either their world got flooded with surreal elements—like the mannequins that inexplicably filled the room of their first date—or Asher became so disoriented that he couldn't identify the events or the settings.

  Their reality would flicker and warp, becoming so disorienting that even Ruth struggled to maintain her composure.

  "I thought focusing on significant life events might make it easier for you," Ruth lamented, her voice tinged with sorrow. "But that's not working either. There's one more crucial thing that's happened recently, but I'm hesitant to go there, especially if this is going to happen again."

  She waved her hand at the walls of what she had come to think of as their hellhouse. The familiar but distorted surroundings had encroached upon them again.

  Asher surveyed the space, his expression unreadable. Finally, he asked, "Does it truly upset you that I can't remember things accurately?"

  Ruth sighed, her eyes searching his. "Yes," she admitted, abandoning any pretense of softening the blow. "If you could remember things the way they were, we could pretend that everything was normal, that this—whatever this is—is okay. Do you understand, Asher? We could fix this. Being dead wouldn't have to matter."

  "But it does," he whispered, his words tinged with a solemnity that neither could escape.

  "It shouldn't! We're still together," Ruth exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "I know you can't stay here forever; I'm trying to fix that. But in the meantime, if we could just make it so you remembered—"

  "I remember the wedding…"

  Ruth's eyes lit up. "You do?"

  Asher nodded and gestured to his clothes. "I've always been ready for it, Ruth. That's why I'm here. To marry you."

  So excited that she barely noticed his odd phrasing, Ruth wrapped her arms around her husband and pulled him in for a hug. "Then we'll get married. Wait here!"

  As quickly as she could, Ruth rushed to her master bedroom where the wardrobe was inexplicably filled with identical wedding dresses. The spider had long since vanished, but the ceiling was adorned with intricate, heart-shaped webs. She grabbed a new dress and slipped it on, letting the clean, white fabric cascade over her.

  Energized, she returned to the main room, only to find it had transformed into a synagogue, just as she had pictured it, just as she remembered. The freestanding structure was adorned with flowers: white roses and baby's breath intertwined along the supports. The top of the chuppah bore the same lavish boughs of greenery and blooms.

  The air was scented with the sweetness of flowers and perfume. The crowd was present, albeit faceless. Ruth forced herself not to focus on anyone too closely, which was simple enough considering she couldn't take her eyes off Asher.

  As she approached him, it dawned on her what Asher must have meant.

  This was Gan Eden—or a glimpse of it, at least. A moment of pure love and perfection, reenacted endlessly. Was this the utopian bliss he lived each day he wasn't with her? Was that why they were both still dressed in their wedding attire?

  Asher took her hands as she drew near. The rabbi began to speak, but his words were unintelligible—backward, slowed down, or perhaps even in a language she didn't recognize. It might have been Hindi for all the sense it made to her.

  Yet, it didn't matter. She remembered the seven blessings.

  "Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine. Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who has created all things for His glory. Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, Creator of man."

  A smile graced Ruth's lips, unstoppable and genuine. This wasn't the same, of course. Her first wedding hadn't unfolded as it should have—an irrevocable event that had, in some mysterious way, landed her in Hell.

  But this was different. It was a chance to start anew, to relive the day as it was meant to be enjoyed. And for that moment, enveloped in love and the illusion of perfection, it was enough.

  Asher smiled back at her, his expression almost doughy. Something odd was happening to the world around them. It wasn't fracturing, which was Ruth's initial fear, but instead growing brighter. The colors became almost painful to look at, and a strange light emanated from the flowers adorning the chuppah.

  "Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who created man in His image, in the image of His likeness. He fashioned his form and prepared for him an everlasting edifice. Blessed are You, L-rd, Creator of man. May barren Jerusalem rejoice and be happy at the gathering of her children to her midst in joy. Blessed are You, L-rd, who gladdens Zion with her children."

  "Asher," Ruth whispered, "what is that light?"

  "You're beautiful," he responded, as if that answer made any sense at all. A nervous sensation scratched at the back of Ruth's heart.

  She knew what that light was.

  Shamayim.... Heaven.

  It wasn't just this wedding; somehow, they had managed to stumble into Heaven itself—or at least, Asher's version of it. That explained the growing brightness; it was Heaven shining through the veil of Ruth's Hell.

  "Grant abundant joy to these loving friends, as You bestowed gladness upon Your created being in the Garden of Eden of old. Blessed are You, L-rd, who gladdens the groom and bride…"

  But she wasn't meant to be in Heaven. She wasn't allowed to be here. Ruth had taken her own life, a sin deemed unforgivable, stripping her of any chance at eternal glory. Asher's smile grew unnaturally wide.

  The sound of hard candies being tossed onto the floor nearby filled the room—except they weren't candies. They were human teeth. A jolt of fear shot through her.

  "You're not focusing," Asher said, tilting his head to the side.

  Ruth's gaze snapped to him. There was something off about his face. It wasn't disintegrating or cracking; it actually looked the same. It was his eyes—had they always been this vacant? As if they were mere shards of glass pressed into the smooth clay of his face.

  The rabbi spoke again in that garbled voice and made a gesture with his hand, repeating it twice in rapid succession. More teeth clattered onto the stage. Ruth realized she was not just holding things up; her emotional upheaval over Heaven's intrusion was causing the memory to break down.

  If she wanted to see this through to the end, she would need to force herself to focus.

  "Oh!" Ruth blushed and pressed the ring back into Asher's grip. He stared at it, looking confused for a moment. It was a simple gold band, without any diamonds. To Ruth, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. During her actual wedding, she had been so overwhelmed with emotion that she hadn't even taken the time to look at it. But now, focusing on the ring was far easier than fixating on the lights and teeth.

  Eagerly, Ruth extended her hand, and Asher slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, just as it had on that first day, and every day since. What was different? What had changed?

  Her eyes widened.

  What came after this?

  Marriage holds both sorrow and joy. By shattering this glass, you're giving physical form to your commitment to stand beside each other, even in death. You'll stay together even in the ground.

  "That's not what he said!" Ruth spat, glaring at the expressionless rabbi, who remained silent, his garbled message already conveyed. "He didn't say anything about death or being buried! Asher, what's—"

  She screamed and pulled away as the light flared up again, permeating the surroundings. The teeth popped like tiny firecrackers all around her. Ruth gathered her skirt and danced out of the way.

  Snap, pop. Snap, pop. The fires ignited and extinguished like Asher's trusty lighter. Heaven and Hell could never coexist in the same space; was that what she was witnessing?

  "We need to leave," Ruth told Asher urgently. "We need to go—"

  But Asher collapsed onto the ground, as lifeless as he'd ever been.

  She screamed. The world turned white, and suddenly, she was in the park. Asher was there—the one from her house—but when he smiled, he had too many teeth, and black crow feathers adorned the side of his neck.

  "Let me help you up," he offered. "That's what I told you, isn't it, Ruth?"

  "Stop it," Ruth shouted. "Stop it!"

  The memory shattered, and she was back in her hellhouse, but Asher was nowhere to be found.

  It had never been real. It had never been him. She had been so foolish! Of course, it was nothing more than a facsimile—a simulacrum. It was a mirror, a figment, something that had never truly existed, that could never truly exist.