The television set in Rachel Keller's bedroom powered on by itself. Rachel looked up blankly at the screen, resigned to what she expected to see. The impulse to escape was dulled by her exhaustion, and her son Aidan was barely conscious on the bed. Filling the screen was the image of Samara Morgan in her white dress, her straight dark hair hanging lankly over her face, obscuring all the features. This, Rachel knew, was what Noah faced minutes before his death.

Her desperate resistance found voice. "You can't have my son! Take me instead."

Two bare arms of gray flesh reached out through the screen and gripped Rachel's wrists. Her brain registered the cold wetness of the hands before she was pulled head first through the screen.

In an instant Rachel's head bobbed up through the surface of the dark water, coughing and sputtering. She recognized this place, or at least she knew it from her own world. It was the well Samara had been thrown down, where Rachel had recovered the body. She hadn't known then how long her ordeal, and Aidan's, would continue. Overhead was a crescent moon of white sky. With a shock Rachel realized that in her world there was a cabin built over the well. Now she was in Samara's world.

She knew she wasn't alone. There was a presence in the black depths of the water. She swam over to the wall and forced her fingers to find handholds on the stones. She dragged herself out of the water. Below her, long strands of dark hair were floating to the surface. Samara was rising.

The stones were dry and the mortar had crumbled and fallen from the joints. Rachel made slow, painful progress. She gritted her teeth and urged herself on. She didn't look down. She knew a noiseless, unbreathing creature was behind her, inexorably climbing the wall. It had done so many times before.

The opening of the well was within reach. Rachel pulled herself up and landed in the soft grass. She skipped over to the stone cover of the well and threw her weight behind it, but it was heavy and it didn't budge. Rachel let out a groan of disappointment. She took a breath and pushed even harder. She was rewarded with the sound of stone grinding against stone. The cover inched forward over the crescent opening. Then it stopped.

Rachel looked up. She knew what she was going to see. It was too late. Samara had lifted herself from the well, blocking the cover. Rachel staggered away. Her arms hung down like lead weights. It was as if gravity was having its revenge on her. There was nothing to do but to run.

The well was in the center of a clearing in the woods. Everything seemed strangely drained of color, even the grass. Rachel blinked, thinking there was something wrong with her vision, but this was the nature of Samara's world. Behind Rachel there was a grassy area with no trees. Beyond the grass there was gray ocean in the distance and a horizon where water met white sky. Rachel turned and ran towards the sea.

The woods were noiseless, as if someone had hit the "mute" button on the remote control. Even the sound of her own breathing seemed muffled to Rachel. Samara was following her with a strange, lurching gait. Her head was tilted first to one side, then the other, like a limp doll. Samara felt no need to hurry.

Rachel realized that the grass ended at a cliff edge. She fought against the rising tide of terror and panic. Her chest felt tied up in a knot so that she couldn't breathe. There seemed no escape from the inevitable end. She saw a rock embedded in the ground and knelt down to try to pry it free. Her fingernails worked furiously to loosen the dirt. Tears of desperation spilled out of her eyes. Anything was better than standing helplessly waiting to die.

Samara came up to her without a sound. Rachel saw how thin Samara's arms and legs were. Had she been fed properly before her death, Rachel wondered. The rock came free and Rachel held it in her hand as she stood up. There was a parting in the damp curtain of Samara's hair and one eye could be seen, light brown against the white skin. Rachel couldn't judge the expression. It looked at her steadily.

Rachel heard a girl's voice in her head. "Mommy."

"I'm not your mommy." Rachel was shocked at how harsh and hoarse her voice sounded in that stillness.

Samara paused. She tilted her head. The eye disappeared again behind her hair. She stepped forward, past Rachel. The rock slipped from Rachel's hand. Samara did not turn towards Rachel again as she walked to the cliff edge.

Rachel looked out at the ocean. A hundred feet or more below, the surf was swirling against the rocky shoreline. The water was dark and lines of white foam emerged and vanished in a constantly churning pattern of chaos. It was like the waters of creation, Rachel thought.

Samara stood at the top of the cliff and raised her outstretched arms until they formed a level line, as if she were going to take flight. Then she let herself fall forward. Rachel had the thought that Samara, in her last moments, moved with the grace she had as a human child.

Rachel awoke. She found herself in her own bed. Sunlight was streaming through the window blinds. Aidan was standing at her bedside watching her intently. "Is it over?" he asked.

"Yes, Aidan, it's over." She embraced her son. "Everything has to come to an end."