Chapter 8.

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Dominic spent the entire night tossing and turning, unable to shake the weight of his thoughts. When sleep finally claimed him, it brought with it nightmares more vivid and visceral than ever before.

Startled awake by the deafening slam of the attic door, Dominic's heart raced with fear as he shot out of bed, his mind racing to comprehend the source of the disturbance.

As he flung open his bedroom door, he was met with the sight of Joel standing in the dimly lit hallway. Dominic's breath caught in his throat at the wild, frantic look in his grandfather's eyes, a silent exchange of fear and confusion passing between them in the eerie stillness of the morning.

Dominic's heart pounded in his chest as he locked eyes with Joel, a sense of unease settling over him like a heavy blanket. Something was definitely wrong.

Joel appeared disheveled, his usually neat lumberjack shirt buttoned askew, and the backs of his boots worn down. As they stood in the hallway, Joel's gaze seemed distant, as if he were staring right through Dominic rather than at him.

Without a word, he began to move towards Dominic, causing him to instinctively take a few steps backward into his room. But to Dominic's surprise, Joel walked right past him, his heavy boots echoing on the wooden floorboards as he descended the stairs and disappeared through the front door.

Dominic released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his pulse still racing from the strange encounter with his grandfather. Joel had never appeared so... unsettling. His demeanor was almost feral. Coupled with his drunken state from the previous night, Dominic couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Dominic approached the attic door slowly. He noticed that Joel had left it unlocked, a detail that struck him as odd. This was out of character; he had always been meticulous about securing the attic entrance. Curiosity tugged at him as he reached out to open it, but before he could turn the handle, the shrill ring of his cell phone pierced the silence.

Hurrying into his room to retrieve it, Dominic's heart sank at the panic evident in Crystal's voice. Her words sent a chill down his voice as they echoed through the phone.

"He's dead, Dominic! Chase Phillips is dead!" Crystal's voice cracked with emotion, the words hitting Dominic like a physical blow.

"What?!" Dominic's heart felt as if it had plummeted several stories beneath him.

He attempted to focus on Crystal's explanation, but his mind refused to process the words as shock rendered him numb. His mouth felt dry and his thoughts raced in a whirlwind of disbelief and despair.

"I'm on my way," Dominic managed to utter with a strained tone, struggling to keep the panic at bay. Every fiber of his being urged him to move, to do something, anything, to make sense of the senseless situation.

As Dominic hurriedly got ready, the world around him seemed to fade into muted silence. Key couldn't be dead; it simply wasn't right. They had so much to discuss, and so many unanswered questions to address. They were supposed to catch up and unravel the mysteries that had brought them together. Surely, this couldn't be true.

It wasn't until Dominic arrived at the hospital that the sounds of the world began to chip away at the numbness enveloping him. He was met with a scene of chaos and frenzy, police officers swarming every inch of the place as if investigating a crime scene.

Confusion swirled around Dominic like a thick fog as he caught sight of Crystal's mother engaged in a somber conversation with an officer. Ignoring the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest, he quickened his pace to join them, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and anticipation.

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