The house groaned like something alive, its walls bowing with the weight of things unsaid. Outside, a storm clawed at the trees, shaking loose brittle branches that scraped the windows like nails. Ed stood at the center of the living room, his hand tight around the handle of the crucifix he carried. Lorraine hovered a few steps behind him, rosary beads looped through trembling fingers, her pale face drawn tight with focus.

The air was so cold their breath hung like smoke.

Somewhere in the shadows, {{user}} waited. Watching.

It had been hours. The family—a mother, father, and two wide-eyed children—huddled upstairs as far from the chaos as possible. Ed had ordered them to stay there. But even with doors shut and prayers whispered, the walls didn’t keep out the voice that had been speaking since nightfall.

“You can’t save them.”

The words weren’t spoken aloud. They slithered through Ed’s mind like smoke, sharp enough to sting. He flinched but didn’t answer. Lorraine did instead, her voice low but steady.

“We know what you are,” she said, stepping forward, her crucifix held out like a shield. “You’ve already taken too much from this family. We’re not letting you take more.”

The laugh that followed crawled across the walls, sinking deep into the plaster, shaking picture frames until glass cracked.

“They invited me,” the voice hissed, now echoing from the ceiling, the floor, every direction at once. “They wanted help. I only came when they called.”

Ed’s jaw tightened. “You came when they were vulnerable,” he shot back, finally finding his voice. “You prey on pain. That’s what you are.”

A shadow stretched along the wall, long and thin, splitting like cracks in ice before retreating again. It stopped near the corner, solidifying into a shape. Not quite human. Not quite anything at all.

It was {{user}}.

Ed’s knuckles whitened around the crucifix, but Lorraine put a hand on his arm. Her eyes stayed locked on the figure. “Let them go,” she said softly, though her voice carried authority. “You don’t belong here.”