Crazy or not?

Crazy or not?
Alisha, Sam, and Joel burst through the iron gate like fugitives, lungs burning, their shoes pounding against the wet ground. Behind them, Lily’s scream still echoed inside their skulls—sharp, furious, and final.

“Get out! Leave! Don’t ever come back! I don’t want anything to do with Allan!”

Her words clung to them like bloodstains they could never wash off. The three of them didn’t look back. They couldn’t. Their legs carried them toward the only sanctuary they had left—the old white van parked crooked by the roadside.

Sam yanked the sliding door open, his chest heaving. “Get in, get in!”

Alisha climbed in first, trembling hands clutching her bag as if inside it she could find courage. Joel slammed the driver’s door shut and twisted the ignition. The van roared awake, its engine sputtering like a dying animal. Gravel sprayed as he drove them into the night, headlights carving through the rain-drenched road.

For several moments, silence ruled. Only the sound of the tires slicing through puddles filled the air. But silence never lasted long with Joel.

“She’s crazy,” Joel muttered, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “That girl’s out of her mind. Did you see her face? The way her eyes—God, they didn’t look human.”

Alisha pressed her palms to her ears, shaking her head violently. “Don’t say that, Joel. Don’t say that! She’s just… she’s terrified. Something’s wrong with her, I could feel it. She wasn’t lying—”

“Lying?” Joel snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “No. Worse. She’s scared to death. And not of us. She’s scared of him. Sir Allan.”

Sam shifted in the backseat, his broad frame hunched, eyes darting toward the van’s rear window as though expecting Allan himself to be following them in the darkness. “Don’t talk about him like that,” Sam whispered. “He’s our boss. We owe him—”

“Owe him what?” Joel barked, slamming his fist against the wheel. The van swerved, tires screeching before Joel pulled it back into the lane. “You saw Lily. She doesn’t want him near her. Why would she be like that if everything was fine? Tell me, Sam. Why?”

Sam had no answer. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Alisha leaned forward, gripping Joel’s shoulder. Her nails dug into his jacket as her voice quivered. “She knows something. Something about Allan. Something she’s too afraid to say out loud.”

Joel’s lips twisted, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he said low, almost to himself. “Maybe she’s seen what we’ve only felt. Maybe she’s seen what he really is.”

The van grew colder. A chill slithered from the floor to their spines, as though the very mention of Allan had summoned something unholy into the cramped space with them. Alisha shivered, hugging herself tight, her breath fogging the window beside her.

Rain battered harder against the windshield, each drop like nails against glass. The road stretched endlessly, the trees on either side bending unnaturally with the wind.

Sam broke the silence again, his tone uneven. “Do you think… do you think Allan hurt her? Or made her see things?”

Joel let out a bitter laugh, void of humor. “You really want to ask that? After everything? After the hospital? After the way he lies, hides, pretends? Tell me, Sam. Do you even know who he really is?”

Alisha flinched at Joel’s words. She remembered Allan lying pale in that hospital bed, wires hooked to his body, his eyes darting like shadows chased him even in unconsciousness. He claimed it was just a car accident. But the way he avoided their questions, the way he dodged the truth—it was too much.

“Stop,” Alisha whispered, her voice breaking. “Please stop. You’re making it worse.”

Joel’s laugh turned darker. “Worse? No, Alisha. It’s already worse. We’re just too stupid to admit it.”

The van jolted as Joel hit a pothole. Alisha’s head slammed lightly against the window, but she barely noticed. Her eyes had widened, locked on something in the distance—something in the middle of the road.

“Joel,” she whispered hoarsely. “Stop the van.”

But Joel didn’t hear her. His voice was a storm. “Lily was right. She doesn’t want Allan. And you know what that means? She knows. She’s seen what he really is—”

“JOEL!” Alisha screamed.

He finally looked.

In the beam of their headlights stood a figure. Tall. Motionless. Its head cocked at an unnatural angle.

Joel’s foot slammed the brakes, tires screaming against wet asphalt. The van screeched to a halt inches from the figure.

For a moment, none of them breathed.

The figure didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Its face was hidden in shadow, but its stance was wrong—limbs too long, shoulders bent, as though it was waiting.

Sam’s voice cracked. “Tell me that’s a person. Please tell me that’s just a person.”

The figure lifted its head slowly, revealing hollow sockets where eyes should have been. And then, without sound, it vanished.

The three of them sat frozen. Rain hammered the van, wind shrieking through the trees, but inside the silence was suffocating.

Joel’s hands shook as he gripped the wheel. “We didn’t see that. We didn’t see anything.”

But Alisha couldn’t stop trembling. “It’s him. It’s Allan. It has to be.”

Sam’s whisper was broken, barely audible. “Then what is he?”

No one answered.

The van crawled forward again, headlights slicing empty darkness. But something inside had shifted. None of them could shake the feeling that the road was leading them somewhere they weren’t meant to return from.

Behind them, unseen in the rain, the figure appeared once more. Its head tilted, following.

And this time, it smiled.