The second Gina stepped inside, the air changed.
It wasn’t warmer like she expected—if anything, it felt colder. The kind of cold that pressed against your bones instead of just sitting on your skin.
The house was dark.
Not pitch-black, but dim, lit only by a few fat, flickering candles placed on high wooden shelves. The walls were lined with old portraits, the kind where the people looked almost too real, their eyes following as Gina stepped past.
And it smelled weird. Not bad, just… off.
Like burnt herbs. Like old dust. Like something forgotten.
The old woman—Granny, Gina decided to call her—shuffled ahead, slow but steady, her cane tapping against the warped wooden floor.
Gina followed, her sneakers squeaking in the silence.
Then—
A whisper.
Soft. Quick. Right in her ear.
“Leave.”
Gina froze.
Her stomach plunged.
She whipped her head around—nothing there.
The air buzzed. Something electric, wrong.
Then—another voice. Low. Cracking. Hissing.
“You don’t belong here.”
Gina’s breath hitched.
Her fists clenched. “What the fu—”
BANG.
A door slammed somewhere down the hall.
The candles flickered wildly.
The air grew heavy, thick, like breathing through wet cloth.
And then—a final voice.
“Get. Out.”
Gina wasn’t scared of much.
But this? This wasn’t normal.
Her instincts screamed at her to turn and bolt.
Then—
CRACK!
The sound of wood hitting wood echoed through the house.
Gina flinched, heart slamming in her chest—
But it wasn’t aimed at her.
It was Granny.
She’d slammed her cane down so hard the floor shook.
And her voice—soft and fragile before—now boomed like a thunderclap.
“ENOUGH.”
The air snapped.
The whispers stopped.
The house settled.
Gina’s pulse pounded in her ears.
Granny exhaled through her nose, tapping her cane once more.
“Rude.”
She muttered it like she was scolding children.
Gina just stood there, stunned.
The air—**cold before—**felt different now. Not exactly warm, but… welcoming.
Granny turned back to Gina, her face calm.
“Don’t mind them,” she said, voice gentle again. “They forget their manners when we have guests.”
Gina swallowed. “Uh-huh.”
Granny nodded toward the living room. “Come along, now.”
Gina forced her feet to move.
She was definitely in some weird-ass haunted house. But… Granny didn’t seem worried.
And Gina? She wasn’t about to run like some punk.
The living room looked as ancient as the rest of the house.
A massive wooden table sat in the center, polished so perfectly it reflected the candlelight. The chairs were ornate, carved with swirling symbols Gina didn’t recognize.
Granny pointed to the table.
“Set it there, child.”
Gina did as she was told, placing the pizza dead center.
She half-expected Granny to start eating right away—but she didn’t.
She just stood there, staring down at it, lips moving silently.
Gina shifted. “Uh… everything okay?”
Granny snapped out of it and smiled. “Yes. Perfect.”
She reached into her shawl and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill.
“Here.” She handed it over.
Gina’s eyes widened. “Whoa, wait—this is too much.”
She tried to hand it back, but Granny didn’t take it.
Her smile stretched—thin, knowing.
“Take it.”
Something in her tone changed.
It wasn’t a request.
Gina hesitated. Then took the bill.
Granny’s smile didn’t fade.
But her eyes darkened.
“Now go,” she said softly. “Before my children come to eat.”
…Gina didn’t need to be told twice.
She nodded, mumbled a thanks, and turned toward the door.
As she walked back through the house, the silence felt heavier.
Like something was watching.
Like many things were watching.
The second she stepped outside, the air felt lighter.
She hurried to her car, not running—but not lingering either.
Only once she was inside, doors locked, engine running, did she finally breathe.
“What the actual hell was that?”
Her hands were shaking.
She let out a breath, looking down at the fifty-dollar bill.
Then her stomach dropped.
Because it wasn’t a fifty anymore.
It was two hundred-dollar bills.
Gina stared.
Her breath caught.
Her hands felt cold.
Slowly, she looked back at the house.
The door was closed.
The candles inside still flickered.
And in the upstairs window—
A shadow.
Tall. Thin. Watching.
Gina hit the gas.
And didn’t look back.
Gina sat in her car, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to shake the feeling off.
The cold air seeping through the vents didn’t help.
Neither did the two crisp hundred-dollar bills sitting in her lap.
She exhaled, dragging her fingers through her hair. What the hell had just happened?
The house. The voices. The ancient Granny with her eerie smile.
And now this?
She grabbed her phone and tapped out a message to Mari.
Gina: Yo, did you ever deliver to that creepy-ass house on the hill?
A second passed. Then another.
No response.
Great.
She shook her head and dropped her phone on the passenger seat. Whatever. She’d deal with that later. Right now, she needed normal.
She took a deep breath, then put the car in drive.
Back to the shop.
The second Gina pushed open the door, the noise hit her like a wave.
Orders flying. Ovens beeping. Tony barking out commands like a general at war. The smell of cheese, garlic, and stress.
Gina grinned.
Hell yes. This was normal.
“Finally!” Tony called, spotting her. “Gina, grab these!”
She barely had time to breathe before three order slips were slapped into her hands.
Three deliveries. Back-to-back.
Just how she liked it.
“Damn, y’all really can’t function without me,” she teased, snatching the bags off the counter.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just go.”
She smirked and headed out.
The first stop was a new customer.
Big, fancy house. Not creepy, just clean. Too clean. The kind of house where you knew the furniture never got used.
Gina grabbed the bag, walked up the steps, and knocked.
She waited.
Silence.
Then, slowly, the door eased open.
Not all the way—just enough for a hand to slip out.
A pale, slender hand. Too smooth. Too still.
Gina frowned. “Uh. Hi. Pizza delivery.”
The hand reached out. Took the bag.
No words.
No movement from inside.
Just that hand.
Gina waited. “Sooo, you paying cash or…?”
Nothing.
Then the door clicked shut.
She blinked.
The hell?
She stood there for a second. No tip. No thank you.
Just weird silence.
“Alright, rude. Merry Christmas to you too, I guess.”
She turned on her heel and headed back to the car, shaking her head.
Some people were just weird.
The next stop was a small apartment complex.
Not fancy, not run-down. Just simple.
Gina climbed the stairs, reading the name on the slip.
Elena.
She knocked, shifting the bag in her arms.
This time, the door opened immediately.
A girl about Gina’s age stood there—small, tired-looking, wearing a big hoodie and sweatpants.
Her dark hair was messy, like she hadn’t planned on seeing anyone tonight.
And for some reason, Gina felt a weird pang in her chest.
This girl looked… alone.
Not in a sad way. Just in a way Gina understood.
“Hey,” Elena said, pulling out some cash.
“Hey,” Gina replied, handing over the bag.
Elena smiled—small, but real. “Thanks. I was starving.”
Gina smirked. “Aren’t we all?”
Elena handed her the money, plus a tip. Not much, but more than enough.
“Enjoy your night,” Gina said.
Elena hesitated. Like she wanted to say something else.
But then she just nodded.
“You too.”
The door closed.
Gina stood there for a second, staring at the wood.
Then she turned, heading back to her car.
Something about that girl had stuck with her.
She had a place to herself. Her own space.
Something Gina had dreamed about for years.
Would it be lonely?
Maybe.
But wasn’t she already lonely?
She shook the thought away and slid into the driver’s seat.
One more stop.
Time to finish the night.
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