Evelyn took a shaky breath, her hands clenched at her sides as she stepped away from the mirror.
The mark on her throat burned, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
This house—it wasn't just old, or abandoned.
It was alive.
It had been waiting for her.
And now that she had spoken the name, it wouldn't let her leave so easily.
A slow creak echoed from the hallway.
Not the sound of the house settling.
Something was moving.
Watching.
Waiting.
She turned toward the doorway, the air growing colder around her.
If she ran now—if she left the house—would it really be over?
No.
She knew better.
This thing wasn't finished with her.
And if she didn't stop it now…
It never would be.
A Voice from the Past
A gust of wind rushed through the open doorway, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and decay.
Then—
A voice.
Faint. Weak.
But familiar.
"Evelyn..."
She froze, her breath catching in her throat.
It wasn't the whispers.
It wasn't the thing from the crib.
This voice—she knew this voice.
Slowly, she turned toward the hallway.
The shadows stretched out before her, deep and endless.
Her feet moved on their own, drawn forward, deeper into the house.
The voice—her mother's voice—was calling her.
The Room She Never Entered
Her steps led her down the hall, past rooms filled with dust-covered memories.
And then, she stopped.
The door in front of her was different.
It was the only one that had remained locked all these years.
The room she had never entered.
Her mother's room.
A wave of dread crawled up her spine.
The voice was coming from inside.
She reached out, her fingers hovering over the doorknob.
The metal was cold—too cold.
But she turned it anyway.
The door swung open without a sound.
And inside—
The room was untouched.
Unlike the rest of the house, there was no dust, no decay.
It was as if someone had just been here.
A chair sat in front of the window, its back turned to her.
And in that chair—
A figure sat, unmoving.
Evelyn's throat tightened.
She knew who it was.
She just didn't know if it was real.
A Mother's Warning
Slowly, she stepped forward.
The figure in the chair stirred, its head tilting slightly—just enough for Evelyn to see the pale curve of a cheek, the dark strands of hair.
Her breath hitched.
"Mom?"
The figure turned just enough to reveal a sliver of a face—her mother's face.
Her lips moved, but the sound that came out wasn't her own.
It was layered, as if spoken by a thousand voices at once.
"You should not have come back."
A chill rushed through Evelyn's veins.
This wasn't just a warning.
It was a truth.
And whatever had taken her mother's voice—
It was already here.
The Echo of the Dead
Evelyn's fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
The figure in the chair—her mother, or whatever was left of her—sat perfectly still, except for her lips. They moved without sound, forming words Evelyn couldn't understand.
But she could feel them.
A whisper in her bones.
A warning in her blood.
"You should not have come back."
The words replayed in her mind, spoken by a voice that was both familiar and wrong.
Her mother had died years ago.
Hadn't she?
Evelyn took a hesitant step forward.
The room shuddered.
The air grew heavy, pressing against her like unseen hands trying to push her back.
But she couldn't leave.
Not yet.
Not without knowing the truth.
A Question Left Unanswered
"Mom?" Evelyn's voice came out hoarse, uncertain.
The figure in the chair twitched, her head tilting just slightly—too sharply, like a puppet with its strings pulled.
A slow, unnatural creak filled the air as she turned her face toward Evelyn.
Her mother's eyes were the same as she remembered—dark, full of depth, full of pain.
But the rest of her was wrong.
Her skin was too pale, like something that had never seen the light.
Her lips moved again, but this time—
The words came out.
"He is still here."
Evelyn's chest tightened.
"Who?" Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
Her mother's mouth opened wider.
Too wide.
Far too wide.
A deep, raw voice crawled from her throat—not hers.
"The one who waits."
The shadows in the room shifted, curling along the walls like they had a life of their own.
The mark on Evelyn's throat burned hotter.
This wasn't just a message.
This was a warning.
Something hadn't left with the crib.
Something had been waiting.
And now, it was awake.
The Shadows That Breathe
Evelyn took a step back—but the room wouldn't let her go.
The door slammed shut behind her, the walls groaning as if they were alive.
Her mother's body lurched forward, her limbs moving like something was pulling them.
The air grew thick with whispers.
But this time, they weren't coming from her mother.
They were coming from the shadows themselves.
A deep, guttural voice cut through the whispers, low and steady—
"You called me by name."
A chill ran down Evelyn's spine.
She knew that voice.
It had whispered to her before.
It had been in the crib.
But now, it was here.
And it wasn't hiding anymore.
End of chapter 1 0.
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