I should have known something was wrong the moment I saw the price.
A house this big… this beautiful… shouldn't be that cheap.
But I didn't ask questions.
I needed a fresh start.
And this place felt like one.
Tall windows. Wooden floors. Silence.
Too much silence.
By nightfall, the excitement had faded.
The house felt… different.
Colder.
I brushed it off, wrapping myself in my blanket as I lay in bed, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.
"It's just a house," I whispered to myself.
But deep down, I didn't believe it.
Sometime in the middle of the night…
I woke up.
Not suddenly. Not violently.
Slowly.
Like something had called me back to consciousness.
That's when I heard it.
Breathing.
Soft.
Close.
Not mine.
My body froze.
My heart began to pound so loud I was sure whoever—or whatever—was in the room could hear it.
Don't move, I told myself.
Don't react.
But then…
I felt it.
A touch.
Light.
Deliberate.
Fingers… brushing slowly against my arm.
My breath hitched.
Tears burned the corners of my eyes, but I didn't dare open them.
Because I knew…
If I did…
I wouldn't be alone.
Morning came like nothing had happened.
Sunlight poured through the window. The room looked normal again.
Peaceful.
Safe.
I almost laughed at myself.
"Just a dream," I muttered, getting out of bed.
But as I rolled up my sleeve…
My voice died in my throat.
There were marks on my skin.
Long.
Faint.
Like fingers had been there.
And that's when I realized…
The house hadn't been watching me.
It had touched me.