Chapter 6: Buried Beneath the Water

His trailer was empty, his name scrubbed from the call sheet. My heart sank.

I knew it was Mr. Benson—he was the main investor.

He controlled everything, pulling strings from the shadows. I hated him more than ever.

He not only replaced Gabriel, but ruined all his opportunities, effectively blacklisting him.

His career was over before it began. I wept for him, and for myself.

I didn’t fare much better. After that film, Mr. Benson stopped giving me work, forcing me to entertain his business partners. If I refused, I was beaten.

The parties were endless, the faces a blur. I lost count of the times I was forced to smile, to laugh, to pretend.

I thought countless times about escaping with Melanie.

We whispered plans in the dark, dreaming of freedom. But the walls always closed in.

I told her: "Let’s run, hide somewhere he can’t find us."

My voice was hopeful, but she shook her head, fear in her eyes.

Melanie said: "You can run, but your family can’t. Mr. Benson is powerful. Even if we run, what about our parents and friends?"

Her words cut deep. I realized then how trapped we truly were.

Her words hit my sore spot. I didn’t dare resist for fear he’d hurt my family.

I gave up escaping, and to make up for my guilt, I split my savings with her.

It was all I could do. I hoped it would buy us a little safety, a little time.

One night, after being forced to entertain, I heard Melanie and Mr. Benson talking in the bedroom:

"Mr. Benson, when will you make my sister move out? I want to live in the master bedroom alone."

Her voice was different—harder, colder. I pressed my ear to the door, heart pounding.

"That’s easy. Have her move to your third-floor room, you take the master. I’ll tell her later."

He sounded amused, indulgent. I felt sick.

"Thank you, Mr. Benson. Also, I want to experience being a star."

Her words stunned me. I realized then how little I truly knew her.

"I’ll make you one. If you want to act, I’ll have scripts sent for you to choose."

He was eager to please, his tone oily. I shuddered.

"I don’t want to start from scratch. My sister worked for years to get where she is. I don’t want to waste that time. Why not let me replace her? We look so alike, and with a little adjustment, even you might not tell us apart."

The words echoed in my mind, chilling me to the bone. I realized then that she’d betrayed me.

"So that’s why you secretly took photos of her and Gabriel for me? You’re even worse than her—I like it."

Their laughter was cruel, mocking. I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back tears.

…

Listening to them, my heart sank.

I realized I was truly alone. The people I loved most had turned against me.

So, the one who leaked my photos to Mr. Benson was my dear sister.

The betrayal cut deep. I replayed every conversation, every hug, wondering when it had all gone wrong.

They’d been acting in front of me all along.

I was the only one fooled, the only one left in the dark.

I felt like a fool, my kindness twisted against me.

No wonder when I wanted to run, Melanie stopped me.

She was protecting her own interests, not me.

Now she wanted to replace me, to enjoy the status I’d worked years for.

I felt sick, betrayed. I vowed to escape, no matter the cost.

I didn’t have time to think, only one thought: escape.

I moved quickly, heart pounding. But the guards were waiting.

I turned to run but was blocked by the bodyguards.

Their faces were impassive, eyes cold. I knew then that there was no way out.

They locked the mansion. "Miss Ellis, without Mr. Benson’s permission, you can’t leave."

The words echoed in the empty hall, sealing my fate.

From then on, I was locked in the third-floor room, my phone confiscated, cut off from the world.

The days blurred together, each one a little darker than the last. I lost track of time, hope slipping away.

Melanie used my phone to post on Instagram, saying she was going abroad for a while.

She crafted the perfect lie, fooling everyone. My friends, my fans—they all believed her.

Before her surgery trip, she visited me once.

She stood in the doorway, her face cold, eyes hard. I barely recognized her.

She no longer pretended to be pitiful.

Her voice was sharp, her words cruel. I realized then that I’d lost her for good.

She touched her face: "Sis, when I come back, I’ll look just like you. Then, we’ll swap names and identities. I’ll be the star."

I stared at her, disbelief warring with horror. She smiled, savoring my shock.

I stared in disbelief: "Melanie, I’m your real sister. How can you do this to me?"

My voice broke, but she just laughed, cold and cruel.

"Yes, we’re sisters, but our lives are worlds apart. You’re a top star, I’m an unemployed grad."

She spat the words, jealousy burning in her eyes. I realized then that I’d never truly known her.

"You’ve always been more dazzling. I want to taste your life. Is that so wrong?" Melanie sneered, eyes full of jealousy.

Her words cut deep, but I refused to back down.

"I got you so many jobs after you graduated, but you refused them. You want to be a star—I tried to help you get roles, but you never took the chance."

I tried to reason with her, but she just rolled her eyes.

Melanie argued: "Who wants a 9-to-5? I want the spotlight like you. Start from bit parts? No way, my youth isn’t for that."

She sounded petulant, entitled. I realized then how far gone she was.

"So you want a shortcut? Don’t you know Mr. Benson is a devil? When he’s tired of you, you’ll end up like me."

I tried to warn her, but she just laughed, the sound hollow.

"Don’t worry, I’m not as dumb as you." Melanie’s smile grew vicious. "Once I’m Mrs. Benson, I won’t have to worry."

Her ambition was blinding, her greed insatiable. I wanted to shake her, to make her see reason.

"Melanie, are you crazy? You want to be Mrs. Benson? Do you even know her background?"

I tried to talk sense into her, but she just smirked.

I was shocked and tried to talk sense into her: "Stop, you’ll ruin us both. In the end, you’ll get nothing."

She laughed, the sound sharp as glass. I realized then that she was lost to me.

"Soon you’ll have nothing, and everything you have will be mine. Why should I stop?" Melanie was blinded by greed.

Her eyes glittered with triumph. I felt a chill run down my spine.

"Wait till I come back from surgery, dearest sister." She laughed and had the bodyguards lock the door.

Her laughter echoed in the empty room, sealing my fate. I slumped to the floor, defeated.

She was gone a month. Mr. Benson didn’t visit, and the bodyguards watched me closely.

The days dragged by, each one a little darker than the last. I lost hope, lost track of time.

My manager, Lisa Morales, came looking for me, but was blocked. She tried to call the police but was threatened by Mr. Benson. She lost her job and couldn’t help me.

Her calls went unanswered, her pleas ignored. I realized then how truly alone I was.

A month later, Melanie returned, her face now identical to mine.

She stood in the doorway, smiling. I stared at her, horror and disbelief warring inside me.

Seeing that face, I knew she’d never turn back.

She was gone, replaced by a stranger wearing my skin.

But I didn’t expect her to be even more vicious.

Her eyes were cold, her smile cruel. I shivered, backing away.

When I offered her everything, begging her and Mr. Benson to spare me, she refused.

She looked at me like I was nothing, her voice icy.

She said, "As long as you’re alive, you’re a threat. I don’t want another face like mine appearing when I win big awards."

Her words were final, sealing my fate. I wept, begging for mercy.

"Melanie, what do you want? I’ve given you everything, why won’t you stop?"

I pleaded, but she just smiled, savoring my pain.

She smirked, "Only when you’re dead can I sleep in peace. I want there to be only one Mariah Ellis."

Her ambition was monstrous, her greed insatiable. I realized then that there was no hope.

She turned to Mr. Benson, who was smoking on the sofa: "Mr. Benson, do it. I’ll replace my sister and stay with you. You don’t want to leave her as a risk, right?"

He hesitated, but only for a moment. I saw the decision in his eyes.

Mr. Benson hesitated for the length of a cigarette, then signaled Roy and Steve to kill me.

The guards moved quickly, their faces blank. I screamed, but no one came.

That night, thunder roared and rain poured. My screams were drowned out.

The storm raged outside, the house shaking. I fought, but it was useless.

Roy and Steve stabbed me repeatedly. As I lay in a pool of blood, still barely alive, Melanie came over.

She knelt beside me, her eyes cold. I stared up at her, pleading.

She looked at my face: "This face is an eyesore. Peel it off."

Her words were the last thing I heard before the pain overwhelmed me. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the storm.

So, my face was skinned, and I died in resentment…

My spirit lingered, trapped by rage and betrayal. I vowed revenge, no matter the cost.

After my death, Melanie and Mr. Benson had the pool renovated.

They buried my body beneath the water, sealing my fate. I watched, powerless, as they erased me from the world.

The water turned red, the scent of blood lingering. I waited, biding my time.

At this point, my dream self returned to being Savannah Brooks.

I gasped, waking with a start. My heart raced, the images burned into my mind.

My mind felt wrung out, like I’d been squeezed by something invisible.

I could still feel Mariah’s rage, her desperation. It clung to me, heavy and suffocating.

The faceless ghost tried to possess me: "Savannah, give me your body, I want revenge!"

Her voice echoed in my mind, cold and relentless. I fought, refusing to give in.

I realized Mariah Ellis had given me a dream visitation.

She wanted me to see her story, to understand her pain. I shivered, clutching the sheets.

She possessed me while I was in the bathroom, showing me her memories.

I realized then how close I’d come to losing myself. I vowed to help her, if I could.

So in the dream, I could empathize with her experiences.

Her pain became mine, her rage fueling my resolve.

"No, I can’t give you my body, go away!" I struggled to drive her out.

I fought with everything I had, refusing to let her win.

Just as I was about to be possessed, I saw a golden light in the darkness.

It was warm, comforting. I reached for it, desperate.

And heard Julian’s voice calling: "Savannah, wake up, wake up."

His voice was my anchor, pulling me back from the brink.

The faceless ghost was scared off by the light and fled.

I gasped, the weight lifting. The room felt lighter, safer.

The sound of birds woke me. A ray of dawn broke through the sky.

Sunlight streamed through the window, painting the room in gold. I blinked, disoriented but grateful.

I opened my eyes to see Julian at the bedside, clutching his beads, chanting.

His face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. I reached out, touching his arm.

Sensing I was awake, he opened his eyes and helped me up: "Savannah, how do you feel now?"

His voice was gentle, concerned. I managed a shaky smile.

"I’m fine." My head felt heavy and hurt.

I rubbed my temples, trying to banish the last traces of the nightmare.

Thinking about nearly being possessed, I was still scared.

The memory lingered, sharp and painful. I shivered, pulling the covers tighter.

Scenes from the dream flashed through my mind. Though Mariah had left my body, I could still feel her strong resentment.

Her anger burned, fueling my own determination. I vowed to help her, no matter what.

I got up and walked to the window, looking down at the pool.

The water was still, the surface reflecting the morning light. I shivered, remembering what lay beneath.

Mariah’s body was buried beneath, while her sister Melanie thrived in the entertainment world with her identity.

The injustice burned. I clenched my fists, promising myself I’d set things right.

Three months ago, she won the Best Actress award.

I remembered watching the ceremony, bile rising in my throat as I saw her smile for the cameras.

My manager Lisa and I watched the ceremony together.

She sat beside me, her face unreadable. I wondered what she was thinking.

She saw Mariah on stage and sighed, "I used to manage her."

Her voice was soft, tinged with regret. I glanced at her, questions swirling in my mind.

Lisa was once Mariah’s manager. After Mariah disappeared, she was forced to resign.

She never talked about it, but I could see the pain in her eyes. I realized then how much she’d lost.

After a break, she joined my current agency and became my manager.

It felt like fate, our paths crossing at just the right moment.

So everything was destined.

I wondered if she knew more than she let on. The thought made me uneasy.

I remember telling Lisa, "Fame really makes people look younger. Mariah looks younger and younger."

I tried to keep my tone light, but she just smiled, sad and knowing.

She looked at me meaningfully: "It’s not fame. The current Mariah isn’t the original."

Her words echoed in my mind, haunting me. I wondered what secrets she was keeping.

I didn’t understand her then, nor did I ask.

I regretted it now. If only I’d pressed for answers.

Now I finally get it—Lisa knew the current Mariah was actually Melanie.

The realization hit me like a punch. I vowed to find the truth, no matter what.

So, knowing I attracted ghosts, she still got me this show… The more I think, the more terrified I am.

I wondered if she’d set me up, or if she was trying to help. Either way, I was in too deep to back out now.

Ten minutes later, all the guests gathered in the lobby to share their haunted house experiences.

The room buzzed with nervous energy. Everyone looked tired, shadows under their eyes.

Riley acted dramatically, waving her hands, saying she’d been pinned down by a ghost last night.

Her story was wild, full of screams and shadowy figures. The crew ate it up, scribbling notes.

Eric said nothing supernatural happened.

He shrugged, looking disappointed. I wondered if he was telling the truth.

Marcus and Autumn said they slept well.

They exchanged knowing glances, smiles tugging at their lips. I suspected they’d spent the night talking, not sleeping.

Only Julian and I looked serious.

Our faces were pale, our eyes haunted. The others noticed, curiosity piqued.

Julian said a faceless ghost crawled in through the window last night, scaring his fans.

His words sent a ripple through the room. The crew shifted nervously, glancing at the windows.

When it was my turn, I said directly: "The faceless ghost gave me a dream last night, said her body is under the pool. Call the police and dig it up."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The room went silent.

As soon as I finished, Riley couldn’t help but roll her eyes: "Savannah, could you be any more outrageous? If they don’t find anything, will you pay for it?"

Her tone was mocking, but I stood my ground. I wasn’t backing down.

I told the director: "Live stream the digging. If nothing’s found, I’ll pay the construction costs."

I stared him down, daring him to refuse. The crew exchanged excited glances.

"Uh…" The director was troubled but excited. This would boost ratings.

He hesitated, but the promise of viral fame was too tempting to resist.

He said, "I’ll call the owner. If he agrees, we’ll dig."

He pulled out his phone, dialing with trembling fingers. The room buzzed with anticipation.

Apparently, the mansion was put up for sale three years ago. The new owner wanted to renovate but kept encountering hauntings.

The stories were wild—flickering lights, cold spots, strange noises at all hours. No one wanted to live there.

The owner posted about the hauntings online, which caught the director’s attention, leading to the show’s location choice.

The internet loved a good ghost story. The director knew a goldmine when he saw one.

The director called the owner, who quickly agreed, saying workers could dig up the pool.