Chapter 1 The Sound in the Walls
The first time I heard it, I thought it was just the house settling.
Old houses make noises. That's what everyone says. Wood expands, pipes shift, wind sneaks through cracks like it owns the place. Nothing unusual. Nothing alive.
But this… this sounded like breathing.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a soft inhale from somewhere inside the walls behind my bed.
I froze.
My room was completely dark except for the faint glow from the streetlight leaking through the thin curtains. The air felt heavier than usual, like the room had quietly filled with something I couldn't see.
I held my breath.
The sound stopped.
For a few seconds, everything was silent. Then, slowly… another inhale.
Closer.
I sat up, heart hammering, eyes adjusting to the darkness. My gaze drifted to the wall beside my bed. The peeling paint. The faint crack running from the ceiling down toward the floor. Nothing moved.
But I knew it came from there.
"Hello?" I whispered.
The moment the word left my mouth, the sound stopped again.
The silence that followed felt… aware.
Like something had been listening.
I told myself I was imagining it. I had just moved into this house three days ago. New place. New noises. My brain filling in gaps. That's all.
Still, I didn't sleep much that night.
Morning came too quickly, washing the room in pale gray light. The crack in the wall looked smaller now. Harmless. Ordinary. I almost laughed at myself.
Almost.
Downstairs, the house smelled like dust and old paper. My aunt had inherited the place but didn't want it, so she offered it to me while I finished school. Cheap rent. Quiet neighborhood. "Perfect for studying," she'd said.
She forgot to mention the silence here felt… wrong.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
Just empty.
I poured cereal into a chipped bowl and sat at the small kitchen table. The clock ticked loudly above the sink. Too loudly. Every second sounded like a knock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Then — a faint sound behind me.
I turned.
The hallway stretched toward the staircase, dark even in daylight. The door at the end was slightly open. I was sure I had closed it last night.
A cold feeling crept up my spine.
I stood slowly and walked toward it. The floor creaked under my steps. The closer I got, the more the air felt… colder.
I pushed the door open.
It led to a small storage room. Empty shelves. Dusty boxes. Nothing unusual.
Except for one thing.
On the far wall, scratched into the paint, were faint words.
They were messy. Uneven. Like someone had carved them in a hurry.
I leaned closer.
I can hear you.
My stomach dropped.
I stepped back quickly, pulse racing. I hadn't noticed that yesterday. I would have remembered something like that.
Wouldn't I?
A faint sound came from upstairs.
Breathing.
My eyes widened.
It was coming from my room.
And this time… it sounded like it was waiting.