I spent the next few days repairing the door, patching the cracks in the walls, and trying to convince myself that I could rebuild, that the figure’s presence wasn’t something I needed to think about. But denial has its limits. Even as I worked, I could feel it—a heaviness in the air, a subtle prickling…

The first few days were deceptively quiet. I convinced myself the figure had truly vanished, that the air’s newfound lightness was proof I’d won. I even managed to sleep—deep, dreamless sleep that felt like a luxury I’d forgotten. But fear doesn’t simply leave. It returned on the third night. The house trembled with an unfamiliar…

The screams began every night at midnight. At first, I thought I was imagining them. Out here, miles away from the city and surrounded by nothing but fields and forest, it was easy for my mind to play tricks on me. But night after night, the sounds returned—soft at first, like distant cries carried on…