ECHOES OF A SIGNATURE

The Cellar Door

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Chapter 4: The Cellar Door

Jason gripped the photo, heart pounding as he stared at the bloodied image of Lily.

She was smiling in the picture, but the crimson streaks across her face told a different story—one of pain, betrayal… and warning.

His own name was scrawled over it in thick red ink, like an accusation.

Behind him, his phone was still buzzing—Blocked Number.

He didn’t answer this time.

He simply crushed the photo in his fist and headed out the door.

2:10 a.m. – Holt Family Property (Abandoned)

Jason hadn’t been back to his childhood home since the night of the murders. The house was condemned now. Weeds overtook the front yard, the windows boarded up, a rusted “FOR SALE” sign leaning drunkenly on the gate.

But the storm cellar—he remembered it clearly. A metal hatch behind the house, once sealed with a heavy padlock.

Now, it was wide open.

Jason approached slowly, flashlight in hand, gun holstered but ready.

The air around the cellar was colder, thicker. The kind of cold that didn’t come from weather, but from memory.

He stepped down the creaking stairs, the light flickering across walls stained with time and mildew.

Then he saw it.

Chains. Ropes. A single, rusted chair bolted to the floor.

And beside it—a small table.

On the table sat a cassette recorder and a mirror.

Jason’s breath hitched.

He hadn’t seen this room before, but it felt familiar—too familiar.

He pressed PLAY on the recorder.

A girl’s voice crackled to life. Shaking. Panicked.

“He said he’d kill my family if I told anyone. But Jason… you were right. He wears a face that isn't his. He hides behind people we know. Please, remember what you saw.”

The tape clicked off.

Jason’s knees buckled. He dropped into the chair, staring at the mirror.

Then a new voice echoed—not from the recorder, but the walls of his mind.

His own voice. But warped.

“You brought her here. You watched.”

“No,” he whispered. “That’s not true.”

“You did it. You forgot because you wanted to.”

Jason closed his eyes. His pulse thundered in his ears. The walls closed in.

“You said you’d protect her.”

“I was seventeen!” he snapped.

“Old enough to watch her die.”

Jason stood, flashlight trembling in his grip. “I didn’t kill her.”

The mirror suddenly fogged over.

And then, a bloody handprint appeared on the glass. From the other side.

Jason stumbled back, heart thudding wildly.

What the hell was happening?

3:45 a.m. – FBI Safehouse

Emily watched the news in silence, eyes puffy, body tense.

A breaking report flashed: Another body discovered—this time in a downtown alley. Same pattern. Same print.

Her fingers trembled as she texted Jason.

You okay?

No response.

Then her phone rang. Jason’s name on the screen.

She picked up, relieved. “Jason? Where are you? Another body was—”

The voice that answered wasn’t his.

It was the distorted whisper.

“He’s remembering… but not fast enough. Tell him time’s running out.”

The line went dead.

Emily screamed.

4:20 a.m. – Jason’s Car

He drove in silence, mind spiraling.

The storm cellar… the voice… the mirror.

The worst part?

It all felt real. Familiar.

He pulled into the Bureau parking garage, parked in his private slot, and got out.

And froze.

There was writing on his windshield—in red.

“Do you trust what’s in your head, Jason?”

His phone buzzed.

Blocked number. Again.

He finally answered.

“Who are you?”

The voice replied, calm, surgical.

“The part of you that never left the basement.”

Jason gritted his teeth. “You’re just a voice. A coward hiding behind games.”

“Is that what you told Lily before you left her to bleed out?”

Jason’s chest tightened. “I didn’t leave her.”

“You did. And I’ll prove it.”

Suddenly, his phone screen lit up with a live video feed.

Jason watched in horror.

Emily—tied up again.

A blade at her throat.

The distorted voice spoke again.

“Want to know what’s real? Come find out. Memory is a weapon, Jason. But in your hands… it’s a loaded gun.”

Then—black screen.

Jason floored the accelerator.

4:55 a.m. – Abandoned Chapel (Edge of Town)

Jason kicked open the chapel doors, gun drawn. The building smelled of mold and rot. Candle wax dripped down broken pews. The altar was cracked, bleeding light through its broken stained glass.

A figure stood at the pulpit.

Jason aimed. “Step away!”

The figure turned—a masked man in black, face hidden by a white ceramic mask with six bloody finger streaks.

Jason’s vision blurred.

His hand shook.

The mask… you’ve seen it before.

The man tilted his head. “Welcome back, Jason.”

His voice—distorted, but not digitally.

It was natural.

As if his vocal cords had been shredded and sewn back together.

Jason stepped forward. “Where is she?”

The man stepped aside.

Behind the pulpit, tied to a chair—Emily.

Still alive. Breathing. Eyes wide.

Jason moved fast, gun trained—

But then the man pulled out a photo.

He held it up.

Jason’s stomach dropped.

It was Jason and Lily—arms wrapped around each other, in the same storm cellar.

Jason was holding a knife.

The same knife from the murder scene.

His hands began to tremble.

The memory… it started crawling back like maggots through his brain.

He remembered the chair.

He remembered Lily screaming.

He remembered…

Nothing.

The memory broke in two like shattered glass.

“YOU’RE LYING!” Jason roared.

The man didn’t answer. He simply dropped the photo—and vanished into the shadows.

Jason rushed forward, untying Emily.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

But her eyes were locked behind him.

“Jason,” she said slowly, voice shaking. “Look.”

He turned.

The mirror behind the altar lit up—

And this time, the reflection wasn't his.

It was Lily.

Smiling.

Bloody.

Whispering:

“You said you wouldn’t forget me.”

Jason’s vision blurred.

His ears rang.

And from somewhere in the chapel—

A second Jason stepped into view.