Ava's pov-
I stood still in the hallway long after Adrien had gone upstairs.
The air in the house felt… warped. Like a song playing just slightly off-key, too subtle for normal ears but loud enough for the heart to feel. The silk curtain still swayed ever so slightly behind me, a ghostly breath where there should be none.
I swallowed and turned away.
Don't be paranoid, Ava.
But I wasn't paranoid three years ago, was I?
I went into the kitchen, flicked on the lights. Bright, warm, staged. Like a set in a film. The stove gleamed, untouched. The fridge buzzed. I pulled out a pre-cut salad container and stared at it for a while before placing it on the marble island, untouched.
This house was always too quiet now. Too big.
Too full of memories and not enough people.
Upstairs, I heard Adrien's bedroom door click shut.
I loved that boy like he was still five years old. I still folded his laundry. Still kissed his forehead. Still packed his lunch sometimes even though he always rolled his eyes. I loved him too much. Maybe that was my problem.
Maybe that's why he hated when I showed up at school—because I couldn't pretend to be normal. I couldn't be like the other moms. I didn't want to be like the other moms.
I just wanted to protect him.
From the world.
From the whispers.
From whatever the hell was wrong with this house.
I turned off the kitchen light.
The reflection in the window flashed back at me.
Me—staring. Alone.
But something else caught my eye this time.
A figure. Not clear. Not even shaped. Just a smudge. A slight, wrong smear in the corner of the glass where no light should have moved.
I turned around fast.
Nothing.
Just the hallway.
Just the piano. The art. The locked drawer I never touched.
And then a creak.
From upstairs.
I nearly called Adrien's name, but something in me hesitated. It wasn't his footsteps. His were always light, fast. This was slower. Calculated. Like someone was trying not to be heard.
I moved toward the base of the staircase, quietly.
Then I saw the flash.
A shadow moving across the landing.
Adrien?
But—he was in his room.
Wasn't he?
I took a step forward.
My fingers shook as I reached for the banister.
And that's when I saw it.
A set of muddy footprints—just one, partial, near the bottom of the stairs. Half a shoeprint. Fresh.
I hadn't gone outside. Adrien hadn't either.
And the doors had been locked.
I backed away slowly.
My throat was dry. My voice wouldn't come.
And then, like nothing had happened at all—silence returned.
No shadows. No footsteps.
Just me. My heart pounding.
And the feeling—stronger than ever now—that someone was in this house.
Still watching.
I stood at the foot of the stairs for too long.
Frozen.
The muddy footprint, the moving curtain, the shadow in the glass—it all piled up inside me like cold water rising in my chest. Drowning me slowly. And the worst part was, I couldn't scream. Couldn't even speak. Because what if I said it out loud and it became real?
I turned and went up the stairs—not fast, not frantic. Just… quiet. Careful. Like prey.
Adrien's door was closed, but I didn't knock. I opened it like I used to when he was a child—gently, slowly, like I had every right.
He was already in bed, lying on his side with his back to the door, headphones in.
He didn't even flinch when I entered.
I stood there for a second.
My beautiful boy. So cold. So far away from me now. But still the only thing that made this world feel bearable.
"Adrien?" I whispered.
He didn't answer. Maybe he heard me, maybe he didn't. But I crossed the room anyway and slipped beneath the covers beside him.
I didn't care if he got annoyed.
I didn't care if he pulled away.
I needed him.
I didn't even realize I was crying until my hand brushed my cheek.
I buried my face into his shoulder like I used to when he was little, when thunder scared him and he ran to my bed and clung to me until morning.
Now it was the other way around.
"I just—" I whispered, voice shaking, "—I don't want to be alone tonight."
His body tensed for a moment. Then… relaxed.
He didn't say anything.
But he didn't push me away, either.
And that was enough.
I closed my eyes.
Tried to slow my breathing.
Tried to pretend this was normal.
But even in the warmth of the bed, wrapped in Adrien's quiet, steady presence, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone—somewhere—was still watching.
Not from the outside.
But from inside the house.
And maybe… maybe they never left.
I couldn't sleep.
Even beside Adrien—his slow, rhythmic breaths a reminder that I wasn't alone—the silence felt… wrong.
It wasn't just quiet. It was too quiet.
Like the house was waiting.
I opened my eyes. The room was dark, but I knew every inch of it. The posters he refused to take down. The shelf of dusty trophies. His old lamp with the cracked base. Familiar. Safe.
But tonight, even his room felt foreign.
I turned my head slowly.
Adrien was still facing away from me, completely still. Peaceful, even.
And then—I heard it.
A sound.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Just… a faint click. Like a door being nudged open. Far down the hallway.
I sat up.
My heart was already in my throat.
The sound came again—closer this time. A slow, deliberate creak of floorboards, the kind you only hear in old houses, when someone is moving in the dark and trying not to be heard.
I reached for Adrien's shoulder.
"Adrien," I whispered. My voice trembled. "Wake up."
He stirred, groggy. "What…?"
"Shh," I said quickly. "Just—listen."
We both went still.
The hallway groaned.
And then came another sound.
Breathing.
Not ours.
Not his.
Deep. Wet. Wrong.
Right outside the door.
Adrien sat up now, eyes wide in the moonlight.
He heard it too.
"Stay here," he said.
"No," I whispered sharply, grabbing his wrist. "Don't. Please—don't leave me."
The breathing paused.
Silence.
And then—knock knock knock.
Three slow knocks on the bedroom door.
Adrien's hand clutched mine so tightly it hurt.
My heart nearly stopped.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
Another knock. Louder. This time… angrier.
Adrien stood anyway. He was braver than I ever gave him credit for.
But before he could reach the door… the hallway light flickered on by itself.
Flooding under the door.
And casting two shadows.
One of them was ours.
The other didn't move like it belonged to anything human.
It twitched. Crooked. Thin.
And then—just as suddenly—it was gone.
The light. The shadow. The knock.
Gone.
Adrien yanked open the door, but the hallway was empty.
Not even a whisper.
He turned to me slowly, his face pale. "You locked all the doors downstairs, right?"
I nodded.
But suddenly, I wasn't sure anymore.
Because this house… it wasn't locked. Not really. Not to him.
Whoever he was.
Or whatever he had become.