Chapter 5: Reckoning

Tears streamed down my face.

I didn’t even try to wipe them away. My cheeks burned with grief, anger, and something close to relief—like a dam breaking after years of holding back.

I slowly opened my eyes.

For a moment, I thought I was dead, but the world sharpened into focus: pine branches overhead, stars glittering through the canopy. I lay on the forest floor, the well behind me like a wound in the earth.

The sky was as dark as if it had been soaked in ink.

The moon hung low, barely visible through the thick branches. The air was cold and still, the woods silent except for the occasional hoot of an owl. My heart hammered, raw and wild.

I woke up outside the old well, but everything that happened before was real.

My wounds ached, phantom pains throbbing in my chest and legs. The memories replayed in my mind, sharp and unyielding. It wasn’t a nightmare—it had all happened.

They used the same trick again, trying to trap me in the old well.

I could still feel the scrape of rope, the thud of stone. I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

God knows what it took for me to climb out of that hell.

Somewhere between rage and desperation, I’d found the strength to claw my way free. Now, the only thing that mattered was justice.

Now, I’m back, and I’ll definitely make them pay!

I rose to my feet, teeth gritted. I wasn’t the scared kid from before—I was a man with nothing left to lose.

At that moment, the lights in Marcus’s house came on.

Across the cul-de-sac, the windows flickered to life. I watched, breath steaming in the chill, as a figure moved behind the curtains.

Someone was home. I smiled slightly and went upstairs.

My smile was tight, full of old hurt. I slipped through the side door—still unlocked, just like when we were kids—and climbed the carpeted stairs. Each step creaked, the house settling around me.

The elevator doors opened, and Marcus’s wife stepped out.

The elevator chimed, its brass doors sliding open. Out stepped Janine—petite, dark-haired, in fuzzy slippers and a Boise State sweatshirt.

She sensed something was off at the door and froze.

Janine’s eyes darted to me, her hand tightening on her phone. For a moment, she looked ready to scream.

She slowly turned her head. “Caleb, are you here to see Marcus?”

Her voice trembled, polite but wary. I could hear the TV murmuring from down the hall.

I kept my hand tight around the knife in my jacket pocket, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, Janine. Just need a quick word with Marcus. Is he around?”

“He got drunk last night, made a scene all night, and still hasn’t woken up. If it’s urgent, come in and wait.”

She hesitated, then stepped aside, the smell of strong coffee and last night’s whiskey drifting from the kitchen. I followed her in, boots thudding against the hardwood floor. The entryway was cluttered with kids’ sneakers and a Boise State football helmet, the TV in the living room still playing last night’s SportsCenter highlights.

Just as she finished speaking, the door suddenly swung open.

There was a crash—Marcus, wild-eyed, stormed into the hall, bathrobe barely tied.

Marcus staggered out, reeking of whiskey.

He leaned against the doorframe, one slipper missing, hair sticking up in tufts. His eyes were bloodshot, blinking at the sudden light.

“You bitch, which guy are you flirting with outside this time? See if I don’t—”

His voice was slurred, full of old bitterness. The argument was routine by now, the kind of fight that never truly ended.

He only got halfway through his curse before his eyes landed on me. Instantly, he stared in horror.

For a split second, he was a kid again—scared, vulnerable, desperate to hide his guilt.

“Caleb? Caleb Turner?”

His voice broke, barely above a whisper. The color drained from his face as he took a shaky step back.

“Are you… are you alive or a ghost?”

His hands trembled, gripping the wall for support. I could see the sweat beading on his brow, the way his breathing quickened.

“What do you think?” I looked at him coldly.

I let my voice go flat, icy. My eyes locked on his, refusing to blink. The air in the room seemed to thicken.

“You’re not…” His body began to tremble.

He backed away, mouth working wordlessly. Janine shot me a nervous glance, stepping in front of him as if to shield him.

“Didn’t we seal you in the well?”

His words were ragged, full of disbelief and terror. Marcus’s face went sheet-white, his hands shaking so bad he nearly dropped his coffee mug.

I stared straight into his eyes.

I didn’t say a word, just let the silence stretch between us, heavy and damning.

“Impossible… That rock can’t be moved without three people.”

His voice quavered, as if trying to convince himself more than me. He looked over my shoulder, searching for some rational explanation.

“You… you must be a ghost!” He wailed and tried to close the door.

His voice rose to a frantic pitch as he lunged for the door, hands fumbling at the knob. His fear made him clumsy, desperate.

A cruel smile curled at my lips. I drew the knife hidden at my chest and jammed it in the door that was about to close.

The blade gleamed in the light, biting into the wood. I forced the door back open, my pulse steady and cold. The game was finally in my hands.

They had hurt me so badly—how could I let him off easy!

Every scar, every nightmare, every moment of regret burned behind my eyes. I wasn’t leaving until justice was served—one way or another.