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𝖥𝖴𝖢𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖢𝖫𝖮𝖶𝖭𝖲

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Sophie stood in her kitchen as she stirred a spoonful of sugar into her mug, watching the swirling liquid darken as the crystals dissolved. The rhythm of the spoon clinking against porcelain was broken by the buzz of her phone on the counter.

She glanced at the screen, her brother's name flashing insistently. Letting out a soft sigh, she already knew what he was going to say. Reaching for the phone, she pressed it to her ear and balanced it between her cheek and shoulder. The warmth of her coffee seeped through the mug as she took a slow sip, bracing herself for the conversation.

"Hey," she greeted, her voice casual.

"Please tell me you're not at home," Nick's voice snapped through the receiver, tinged with irritation and worry.

There it was.

"Yes, Nicky," Sophie replied, setting her mug on the counter. Shifting the phone to her hand, she propped her hip against the counter's edge.

"You must be goddamn insane," 

"This is our house. I'm not gonna let some fucking clown scare me out of it," she said firmly, her gaze drifting to the bay windows. The cop car parked across the street stood as a small comfort in the face of her anxiety. "Besides, the cops are actually watching the house this time. You don't need to worry."

"And Micah?" Nick pressed, his concern laser-focused.

"Just keep him there for a couple of days till things blow over," Sophie reassured him, her voice softening slightly. "I'll pick him up for school and drop him off until it's safe to come home."

The line went quiet for a moment before Nick let out a heavy sigh. She could practically see him rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Please, don't get murdered," he muttered, half pleading, half annoyed.

Sophie's lips quirked into a faint smile as she responded, her tone light. "I'll try."

"You wanna talk to Mommy?" 

Sophie's heart softened instantly, hearing the shuffling of the phone as it was handed over.

"Hi, Mama," Micah's small, sweet voice came from the other end, and Sophie couldn't help but pout. She missed him so much it hurt.

"Hi, baby," she cooed, her tone full of affection. "You having fun?"

"Yeah, but I miss you," Micah admitted, his honesty tugging at her heartstrings. "When can I come home?"

Sophie swallowed hard, wishing she could tell him right now. "Just a couple more days, okay, my love?" she promised, her voice soft but steady. "I miss you so much too. When you get home, we'll watch Inside Out. How does that sound?"

"Really?" Micah's voice lit up with excitement, and Sophie could picture his wide, hopeful eyes.

"Really," she confirmed, smiling despite the ache in her chest. "I'm gonna let you guys go, but I love you so, so much."

"I love you too, Mama," 

In the background, she heard Nick chime in. "Love you."

Sophie ended the call, setting the phone down on the counter with a sigh. The emptiness of the house pressed in on her.

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Sophie stood under the steady stream of the shower, letting the warm water wash away the tension of the day. Steam filled the bathroom as her hands worked through her hair, rinsing out the conditioner. Droplets slid down her skin, carrying away the remnants of exhaustion. When she was done, she turned off the water, stepping carefully onto the mat and wrapping a towel snugly around her.

She wiped a circle of steam from the mirror and brushed her teeth, her reflection showing tired eyes that longed for rest. After drying off, she slipped into her soft pajamas.

Moving through the dim house, she paused at the front door, twisting the lock to ensure it was secure. Habit drew her to the bay window next, where she peeked through the curtains to check on the patrol car stationed across the street. The sight of the officer sitting inside brought a fleeting sense of reassurance. Satisfied, she pulled the curtains closed, shutting out the world for the night.

A yawn escaped her, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. The stack of homework waiting to be graded crossed her mind, but she waved it off for the morning. She was too drained to deal with it now.

The soft glow of her bedroom lamp welcomed her as she entered. She turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness, and climbed into bed. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she exhaled deeply, silently willing herself to drift into sleep.

Sophie drifted into an uneasy sleep as her body sank into the mattress. The house settled into silence, the muffled hum of the patrol car outside a faint background noise. Hours passed, the darkness wrapping around her.

A sudden crash shattered the stillness. Sophie's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She strained her ears, trying to locate the source of the noise. It sounded like something heavy had fallen.

Kicking off the covers, she slid out of bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, clutching it tightly as she crept toward the door. Every shadow seemed to stretch and shift, the dim glow of the moon casting eerie shapes along the walls.

The hallway was silent, but an unsettling tension hung in the air. Sophie hesitated, her fingers brushing the wall as she stepped cautiously forward. That's when she saw it—a figure looming at the far end of the hallway.

Her breath hitched as the figure stepped closer, the details coming into focus under the pale light. The clown wore a grotesque three-headed mask, each face bearing a different expression. It was him. The exaggerated noses and hollow eyes seemed to mock her.

She froze, her feet rooted to the floor as her mind screamed at her to run. The clown moved slowly, his deliberate steps making the wooden floor creak beneath his weight. Sophie's back hit the wall, her palms pressing flat against it as if she could will herself to disappear.

The clown stopped inches away, tilting his head as if studying her. His gloved hand rose, the fabric rough against her skin as he stroked her cheek. A shiver of revulsion shot down her spine.

Snapping out of her paralysis, Sophie mustered all her strength and kneed him hard in the balls. The clown grunted, doubling over slightly, and she took the chance to dart past him.

Her feet pounded against the floor as she ran toward the stairs, but when she reached the living room, her heart sank. More clowns stood waiting, their twisted faces illuminated by the faint glow of a lamp. 

"Shit!" Sophie hissed, skidding to a stop. She turned to run the other way, but the clown with a brain sticking out lunged forward, his massive hand grabbing her arm in an iron grip.

"Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing and kicking, but it was no use. The others closed in, surrounding her.

The clown that grabbed her tightened his grip on Sophie's arms, immobilizing her as she fought against him. His hands felt like steel clamps, pressing bruises into her skin despite the thick gloves he wore. She twisted and turned, desperate to break free, but his strength was unrelenting.

From the circle of grotesque masks, a female clown stepped forward. Her mask was a gagged mouth stretched unnaturally wide. The white eye sockets bore into Sophie as the woman reached up and struck her across the face with a force that sent her head snapping to the side.

Sophie gasped, her lip splitting open as pain exploded across her cheek. Warm blood trickled down her chin, metallic and bitter on her tongue. Her ears rang, drowning out her labored breaths and the faint snickers of the clowns around her.

Before Sophie could recover, the three-faced clown stepped into view again, his looming figure commanding attention. His mismatched expressions—joy, sorrow, and rage—tilted slightly as if scrutinizing the female clown. With a sudden, violent motion, he shoved her backward, causing her to stumble.

Sophie blinked through the haze of pain, confusion mixing with her fear. Did he just reprimand her? It was almost as if he disapproved of the violence against her, as if he... liked her.

The three-faced clown turned his focus back to Sophie, his hollow eyes behind the mask seeming to burn with something unspoken. He reached out a gloved hand, not to harm her but to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, smearing blood from her busted lip as he did.

Her stomach churned with nausea, but her limbs refused to obey, her body a prisoner to the brute's crushing grip and the paralyzing terror that held her still. Sophie's voice trembled as she whispered, "Please, let me go. I'll do anything."

The three-faced clown tilted his head, the silent, exaggerated expressions on his mask shifting in the dim light. For a long moment, he simply watched her, his gloved fingers hovering just shy of her face, as if savoring her desperation. Then, to her astonishment, he nodded at the brute restraining her, a silent command that was immediately obeyed.

The vice-like grip released, and Sophie stumbled forward a step, her knees weak and her breath ragged. She clutched at her chest, barely able to believe the reprieve. The air felt slightly less suffocating, though the weight of the room's dark energy pressed against her like a heavy blanket.

Her eyes darted to the throng of masked figures encircling her. One by one, they shifted slightly, clearing a narrow path. Their presence was as oppressive as ever, but none made a move to stop her. Heart pounding, Sophie took a tentative step forward, her legs unsteady beneath her.

She inched through the path, her every movement careful and deliberate. Each clown she passed turned their head to follow her, their masks emotionless yet unnervingly watchful. She tried to avoid eye contact with the hollow sockets, her breath hitching every time she felt a hand twitch or a body shift.

Reaching the door, she hesitated only briefly before grabbing the knob and wrenching it open. The hinges creaked loudly in the suffocating silence, and Sophie stepped through, slamming the door shut behind her. The thud echoed like a gunshot, but she didn't linger to listen for a reaction.

She bolted, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor as she sprinted down the hall. Her heart thundered in her chest, the adrenaline drowning out every other sensation. Panic drove her forward, her only thought to get as far away from them as possible.

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Sophie's legs barely carried her to the neighbor's porch, her fists pounding against the door until it swung open. Time blurred after that—shouts, panicked voices, the blaring sirens of approaching police cars. Now, she sat shivering in the back of an ambulance, a scratchy blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her breath puffed out in uneven gasps, her chest raw from sobbing, though her tears had long since dried up.

The cold sting of the night air bit at her skin and she clutched the blanket tighter, her fingers trembling as she stared numbly at the pavement. Somewhere in the chaos, a paramedic had checked her over, but the words of reassurance they offered barely registered.

Sophie's mind was elsewhere. Images of those masked faces loomed in her thoughts, the suffocating dread, the brute's crushing grip, the cruel slap that still stung on her face. She thanked whatever divine forces existed that her son hadn't been there to see her like this, or worse—caught in the nightmare himself.

The crunch of boots on gravel drew her attention. She looked up as Detective Jack Samuels approached, his face grim under the flashing red and blue lights. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his coat, and the set of his jaw betrayed the tension he tried to mask.

"How are you holding up?" he asked gently, his voice steady but cautious.

Sophie let out a bitter snort, her lips pulling into a humorless smile. "How do you think?" she muttered, her voice hoarse. Her gaze flicked to him, sharp and accusing. "What the hell happened to the patrol car that was supposed to be here?"

Jack sighed heavily. "Looks like they were in the middle of a shift change," 

"Of course," Sophie whispered, the bitterness in her voice cutting like glass. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to look away before her emotions spilled over again. Her gaze fell to the ground, her hands tightening around the edge of the blanket.

Jack crouched down slightly to meet her eyes, his expression softening. "I promise we're going to get to the bottom of this," he said firmly.

But Sophie barely heard him. Her mind was already spiraling, thinking of the clowns, the sheer violation of safety, and the unbearable realization that they could come back.

Before Sophie could fully process Jack's words, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Winter and Kai were rushing toward her, their faces pale and lined with panic. Winter's silver hair swung wildly around her shoulders as she ran, and Kai's expression was dark, his jaw clenched tightly.

"The hell happened?" Kai demanded, his sharp gaze darting from Sophie to Jack. 

Sophie flinched slightly at his tone, realizing with a sinking stomach that in her fear and desperation, she had called Winter instead of Nick.

Jack placed a steady hand on Kai's shoulder, guiding him away from Sophie and the ambulance to speak in private. "Let's step over here,"

As the two men moved off to the side, Winter rushed to Sophie's side, her arms wrapping tightly around her. The warmth of her embrace was welcomed to the icy numbness Sophie felt inside, and for the first time in hours, she felt herself begin to thaw.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Winter whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She pulled back just enough to study Sophie's face, her eyes scanning for any sign of injury.

Sophie managed a weak nod, but her voice cracked as she spoke. "I— I'm fine," she whispered, though her lips trembled as she said it.

Winter frowned, her brows knitting together in concern as she gently brushed a strand of damp hair from Sophie's face. "You don't look fine," she said softly, her thumb grazing the corner of Sophie's mouth where her lip had split.

Sophie winced at the touch. "It's not as bad as it looks,"

Kai stepped back into view, his eyes dark and filled with an intensity that made her throat tighten. He scanned her face, his jaw clenching as he took in every bruise, every tear-streaked line. The moment their eyes locked, Sophie's bottom lip began to tremble, her composure threatening to shatter completely.

"Hey, hey," Kai whispered, his voice soft but firm. He stepped closer, opening his arms. "Come here."

Sophie didn't hesitate. She stood up quickly, crossing the small space between them, and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist before she buried her face in his chest.

Her tears came freely now, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as he held her securely. Kai's hand stroked her back in slow, deliberate motions, his other hand resting protectively on the back of her head.

After a moment, Winter's gentle voice broke through the heavy silence. "I think you should stay with us for a while."

Sophie sniffled, turning her head just enough in Kai's arms to glance at Winter. "What?"

Winter stepped closer, her expression soft yet determined. "Micah can stay in Vincent's old room. You both need to be somewhere safe."

Sophie hesitated, pulling back slightly to look up at Kai. "I don't know," 

Kai didn't give her a chance to overthink. He cupped her chin gently between his fingers, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to meet his steady gaze. "We're not taking no for an answer," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's just till this bullshit gets figured out, okay?"

His thumb brushed away a stray tear as Sophie blinked, her resolve wavering.  Finally, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."

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