Lucy sat on the edge of the couch, her eyes fixed on the clock. The air was thick with tension, as if the storm outside had seeped into her very bones. "Why does it stop?" she whispered to herself, feeling the unease coil tighter around her heart.

The silence was so complete it felt as though time itself had paused. Lucy held her breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Her eyes darted to her phone, the seconds ticking away normally, yet the clock remained eerily still.

Lucy trembled as she approached the clock, her heart pounding in her chest. Her fingers brushed against the cold wood, and the voice became unmistakable. "It's your turn now, Lucy. Tick-tock," it said, the words hanging in the air like a curse.

The paper was old, its edges frayed from time, and it bore a chilling message: "Time's running out." The words were scrawled in a hurried hand, each letter a stark reminder of the clock's sinister nature.

The deeper Lucy searched, the more unsettling the story became. Evelyn's disappearance was marked by the same eerie silence, the same whispers, and an identical note. "Am I next?" she wondered, feeling the weight of destiny pressing down on her.

Lucy resolved to confront the clock one final time, her determination overshadowed by a growing sense of dread. The whisper returned, promising that the clock would reveal its true purpose at the stroke of midnight. And she would be ready.