Lina didn't sleep.
She couldn't.
Every sound in the house felt louder now. Every shadow felt alive.
And worst of all—
She knew the truth.
There was more than one thing inside this house.
Morning came slowly.
Too slowly.
The light that slipped through her window looked pale… almost gray.
Not warm.
Not safe.
"Lina! Breakfast!" her mother called from downstairs.
Normal.
Too normal.
Lina hesitated.
Then stood.
Her legs still felt weak as she walked toward the door.
She stared at the handle for a long time before touching it.
Half-expecting it to move on its own.
It didn't.
Slowly, she opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
But the air felt colder.
Lina stepped out carefully, her eyes scanning everything.
The walls.
The floor.
The ceiling.
Watching.
Waiting.
Nothing moved.
"Lina?" her mother's voice came again. "Are you coming or not?"
"I'm coming!" Lina forced out.
She walked down the stairs.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Her mother was in the kitchen, acting like everything was normal.
Cooking.
Humming.
Smiling.
"Good morning," she said.
Lina studied her face carefully.
Too carefully.
"Mom…" Lina said slowly, "did you come to my room last night?"
Her mother paused.
Then frowned.
"No. Why would I?"
Lina's stomach dropped.
"You didn't knock?"
"No," her mother said, confused. "I slept early. I didn't hear anything."
Silence.
Lina forced a smile.
"Oh… okay."
But inside—
Everything was screaming.
Something had her mother's voice.
And it knew her name.
Later that day, Lina stepped outside.
She needed air.
Real air.
Not the heavy, suffocating feeling inside that house.
The moment she crossed the front door—
She felt it.
Relief.
Like invisible hands had loosened around her throat.
She inhaled deeply.
For the first time since arriving—
She could breathe.
"New here?"
The voice startled her.
Lina turned.
A boy stood a few steps away, leaning against the fence.
Tall.
Calm.
Watching her.
But not like the house.
His gaze felt… real.
Human.
"Y-yeah," Lina said, still catching her breath.
He nodded slightly.
"I figured."
Silence stretched between them.
Then he asked—
"Did you sleep well?"
Lina froze.
Her heart skipped.
"…Why would you ask that?"
The boy's expression didn't change.
"Everyone who moves into that house has trouble sleeping."
Lina's chest tightened.
"What do you mean 'everyone'?"
He pushed himself off the fence slowly.
Now standing properly.
"People don't stay there long," he said.
A chill ran down her spine.
"Why?"
The boy looked past her.
At the house.
His eyes darkened.
"…Because it doesn't like strangers."
Lina turned slowly.
Looking back at the house.
From the outside—
It looked normal.
Old.
Quiet.
Still.
But now—
She knew better.
"It watches," the boy added quietly.
Lina's breath caught.
She turned back to him quickly.
"How do you know that?"
For a moment—
He didn't answer.
Then—
"I used to live there."
Silence.
Heavy.
Lina stared at him.
"You're lying."
"I wish I was," he said.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time—
Lina felt something different.
Not fear.
Not dread.
But a strange, fragile sense of—
Trust.
"What's your name?" she asked softly.
He hesitated.
Then answered—
"Ethan."
Lina nodded slowly.
"Lina."
A pause.
Then Ethan said something that made her blood run cold.
"If it called your name last night…"
He looked directly into her eyes.
"…then it's already chosen you."
The wind picked up suddenly.
Behind Lina—
The front door creaked open.
On its own.
Ethan's expression changed instantly.
"Don't go back inside," he said sharply.
Lina turned.
The house stood there.
Waiting.
Watching.
And somehow—
She knew.
It was listening to everything.