Chapter 1 - The Descent into MadnessThe harsh fluorescent lights of St. Jude’s Mortuary hummed, casting a sterile, sickly glow over the polished mahogany flooring. Daniel stood frozen, his smartphone still raised in his trembling hand, the screen casting a pale blue light across his wide eyes. The call to security hadn't gone through; the reception bar in the basement catacombs was dead.
Inside the velvet-lined ivory casket, Claire blinked against the sudden onslaught of light. Her skin was deathly pale, stark against the dark satin lining, but her chest rose and fell in a steady, agonizing rhythm.
"Noah..." Her voice was a fragile whisper, barely cutting through the heavy silence of the viewing room.
Noah dropped the wooden mallet. It hit the floor with a dull, heavy thud that reverberated through Daniel’s chest. Without a word, Noah rushed forward, his fingers tearing away the splintered remains of the ivory lid. He didn't care about the protocol, the sacredness of the dead, or the horrified stares of the bewildered mourners scattered near the exit.
"I've got you, Claire. I've got you," Noah choked out, his voice cracking violently as tears finally spilled over his lashes. He reached in, his calloused hands gently framing her face, ignoring the sharp, jagged wood splinters grazing his wrists.
Daniel stumbled backward, his back hitting a towering floral arrangement of white lilies. The sweet, cloying scent suddenly turned suffocating. How? His mind raced in frantic circles. I signed the death certificate myself. I stood beside Dr. Vance when he checked the pulse. There was no heartbeat. No respiration. Nothing.
The mourners—mostly distant relatives and business associates who had come to pay respects to the wealthy patriarch's sudden tragedy—began murmuring. Whispers darted across the room like venomous insects.
"Is that... is that Claire?" "Was she buried alive?" "Who did this to her?"
Noah lifted Claire effortlessly out of the coffin, wrapping her in his heavy red hoodie as she shuddered against his chest. As her feet touched the cold marble floor, she looked past Noah's shoulder, her glassy eyes locking onto Daniel.
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A chilling, broken smile crept onto Claire's lips. "You forgot to check the pulse twice, Daniel," she whispered, her voice carrying an eerie, metallic echo in the large room.
Daniel’s blood ran ice-cold. He knew the truth—or at least, he thought he did. But as sirens began to wail in the distance, cutting through the night air outside, Daniel realized that the nightmare was only just beginning, and the grave they had prepared was meant to trap more than just a body.
