Evelyn's body tensed, her pulse hammering in her ears.
The whisper—the thing from the crib—had spoken again.
But this time, it wasn't confined to the crib.
It was here.
It had never left.
Her mother's body twitched, moving in sharp, unnatural motions, her head snapping toward Evelyn with a sickening crack.
Her lips curled into a grotesque smile.
"You should not have called it," her mother's voice rasped, though the words weren't her own.
Evelyn's breath hitched.
The thing in the shadows—the one she had sent back—it had left something behind.
Or maybe… it had never really been gone.
The Whispering Room
The walls shuddered, the shadows stretching, curling toward her like reaching hands.
The whispers grew louder, no longer distant, no longer separate voices.
They were one voice now.
One presence.
One thing.
Evelyn stepped back, but the floor felt wrong, like she was standing on something that wasn't solid.
Like the house itself had become part of it.
Her mother's form lurched forward, her body moving in jerking motions as if something unseen controlled her.
"It knows you now," she whispered.
Evelyn's fingers dug into her arms. The mark on her throat burned.
"What is it?" she forced out.
Her mother's head tilted at an unnatural angle.
The thing inside her laughed.
A hollow, endless sound.
Then—
"You already know its name."
Evelyn froze.
A memory—one she had buried—came rushing back.
The night she had first heard the whisper.
The night she had first spoken the name.
The name she should have never said aloud.
The whispers coiled around her, pressing against her ears, filling her lungs.
"Say it again."
The thing in her mother's body grinned.
"Let it in."
The Choice That Cannot Be Undone
Evelyn's throat tightened.
The room darkened, the shadows pressing in on all sides, the walls closing in like a living thing.
If she spoke the name again…
Would she become part of it?
Would she bring it back?
The whispers swarmed her mind, pulling, tearing, urging her to give in.
But something deep inside her—a memory, a warning—held her back.
"You must bury the name."
Her mother's voice—her real mother's voice—echoed in her mind.
Not spoken in this house.
But from long ago.
Evelyn clenched her fists.
She had a choice.
Speak the name—and let it in.
Or fight.
Her mother's figure twitched, her mouth stretching wider, her voice becoming inhuman.
"Say it."
The whisper was right at her ear now, curling into her thoughts.
Evelyn took a shaking breath—
And made her choice.
The Name Buried in Silence
Evelyn's lips parted, but she did not speak.
The name—its name—curled at the edge of her tongue, pressing against her mind like a living thing, clawing, desperate to be set free.
But she wouldn't say it.
She couldn't.
She saw it now—the trap.
The whispers weren't just urging her to speak.
They were forcing her.
If she gave in…
If she spoke it again…
She wouldn't be just calling it back.
She would be binding herself to it.
Evelyn clenched her jaw, forcing the name back down.
The air shuddered around her, as if the very walls of the house were reacting to her defiance.
Her mother's twisted form jerked, her head snapping to the side like a puppet with its strings pulled too tight.
A long, unnatural wail tore from her throat.
The shadows in the room convulsed, recoiling as if struck.
And then—they lunged.
The Dark That Hungers
The darkness rushed toward her, a writhing, twisting force.
Evelyn threw herself backward, barely avoiding the tendrils of shadow that lashed out, clawing at the floor where she had just stood.
The house screamed, the very walls vibrating as if in pain.
She scrambled to her feet, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
She needed to get out.
Now.
But the thing in her mother's form was already moving.
Too fast.
Her body twisted unnaturally, limbs snapping into motion that shouldn't have been possible.
The thing inside her was no longer trying to persuade.
It was angry.
It had failed.
And now—it wanted her to suffer.
The door behind Evelyn slammed shut, the walls of the house pressing inward, the space shrinking.
The whisper returned, curling around her ears like smoke—
"You cannot run."
The Escape That Should Not Be Possible
Evelyn's pulse pounded.
No doors.
No windows that weren't covered in impossible darkness.
She was trapped.
But she had one thing the shadows didn't.
Will.
The mark on her throat burned hot, almost searing.
She didn't know why, but instinct took over.
She pressed her palm over it and whispered, not the name the thing wanted—
But something else.
"You are not welcome here."
The reaction was immediate.
The room shuddered, the darkness flinching, twisting away from her like a wounded animal.
Her mother's form screamed, but this time—it was afraid.
The shadows ripped apart, the room shifting, and suddenly—
A door appeared.
Not the one she had come through.
One that should not have existed.
It stood there, cracked open, light spilling through—a light that didn't belong to this house.
Evelyn didn't hesitate.
She ran.
The thing behind her howled, the whispers turning into a chorus of rage—
"You cannot leave!"
But she did.
She burst through the door—
And into something else entirely.