The note was an A-flat, held for six full beats. As the sound decayed, something in the attic shifted. She turned. The mannequin head in the corner—the one dressed in her old RPD doll’s uniform—was facing her now. It had been facing the wall a second ago.
Then she played measure 47.
She struck the final chord—a jarring E major over a B-flat drone. The sound didn’t fade. It swelled, and from the hallway downstairs came footsteps. Heavy. Dragging. Followed by a wet, familiar groan she’d heard a thousand times in Resident Evil walkthroughs as a kid.
The Last Note
And because this was a Resident Evil story, she reached for the final page.
The groan answered.
Sophie, if you’re reading this—
Measure 72: “Piano, piano… then nothing.”
Blocked Drains Chester