Once the lights were off, I ran upstairs. The thing on all four was after me but often crashed into stuff. By the time I was on the fourth floor, the thing was on the second, still crashing into things.

I went into Mr. Harmon's art room and turned on my phone's flashlight. Downstairs, I heard the cops yelling and Abby calling after me. It brought back the same memories of my parents yet, they have been in Mr. Harmon's grip the whole time, and I had no idea why. They weren't going to get in. Not unless I somehow stopped Mr. Harmon.

I shined the light around the room and noticed something. Every single painting was different. There were paintings of Tate, Jasper, Violet, the crawling woman, Caroline, Caleb. There were regular pictures of them then there were paintings of them dead. A picture beside the window was of me. It was normal. As I was lifting it, another picture from behind fell. I picked it up.

I viewed the painting, and my heart stopped. My body started to shake, and I wanted to collapse right then and there. The painting was a picture of a clown holding me, passed out in his left hand. And in the other hand was an actual beating heart.

I put my hand to my heart to feel for a beat. This whole time, I thought my heart was beating when I was scared, and it wasn't. There was no beat now. Only the beating of my heart on the picture. He already had me. That same second I felt my heart beating. False alarm. Guess I was just too afraid in that moment and my anxiety had reached over the limits.

I started looking around at every other painting.

I saw a picture of Caleb with devil horns on his head. Another picture of Mrs. Harmon standing in fire. More paintings of the hide and seek players in a fire, even Jasper. Mr. Harmon's painting was what was making them so sinister. This was his way of torturing them, of controlling them I thought. That's when I got one idea. Every painting needed to be destroyed, and I needed this so-called book.

I had an idea. I slowly opened the front door and peeked out of it. My neck was grabbed forcefully. I couldn't see who it was, but it ripped off its stitches and started yelling at me.

"Don't leave me! Don't leave me!" it said in my mother's voice.

I kicked her away and made my way toward the staircase. I fumbled down the stairs. Waiting for me on the third floor was Mrs. Harmon's new body. It hissed at me and made its way toward me. I did my best to avoid it, then made my way past it. It scrambled all around the stairway, but luckily, I got off that floor and headed down the second and first.

I still heard Abby outside and the police trying to get in. I heard one of them even yell out that they were going to need backup.

When I got inside the kitchen, I pulled out my phone and called Abby. I pulled out my stitches, and it hurt like hell. I realized I would feel pain forever unless I stopped Mr. Harmon, which is what I planned to do.

Abby answered. "Get away from the house. I'm so sorry," I told her.

My lips trembled as I spoke. I turned off my phone. I turned on the stove up high, and the microwave then picked up a lighter that was near the sink.

Using the lighter, I turned to the table and set it on fire, then the chairs and the cabinets.

I had run out of the kitchen before I heard something behind me. When I looked, I saw a body crawling towards me. It was skinless and almost bald.

Mr. Harmon was painting. Whenever the lights went off, he disappeared. But where too? And how did his drawings come to life?

I ran out and headed upstairs with the lighter. Once on the third floor, I looked to my left and saw the girl in my dreams holding my axe.

She walked closer to me and held the axe up high then struck something in front of me, something that I didn't see. The strike to Mrs. Harmon's head splattered black blood over my face. I quickly ran upstairs while the thing attacked the girl in my dreams and torn her limb from limb.

Once on the fourth floor, I opened the art room once again and got the lighter ready. Sitting at the desk was Mr. Harmon. He had a long piece of paper in front of him and was sketching rapidly.

He started to talk fast. "How do you feel about a shadow man? I'm more into vampires and skeletons but let's switch things up a bit."

His body changed into a large shadow with two bright eyes reaching for me.

"As for you, since you're so smart, I thought you'd like a challenge," he said, his voice airy and deep.

He showed me a picture of myself with the clown. Something was attached to my eye in the painting. Mr. Harmon showed me a mirror and after one look at myself, I knew this was going to be very painful if I didn't stop him soon. There were needles beneath my eyelid, waiting for me to blink.

Mr. Harmon didn't just paint. He was painting a story. A sick story. Only I didn't know how it was going to end.