They said the house at the edge of the marsh had been empty for decades.

Locals whispered about the girl who went missing there. How her family vanished the night after her body was found. No one went near it anymore. Not even the cops. Not even the crazy kids who thought they weren’t afraid of anything.

Except Rafe Cameron.

“You’re not serious,” you said, standing beside his dirt bike as the wind pushed through the dead trees like breath on your neck.

He grinned like a dare. “What? Scared?”

You gave him a look. “I don’t like places that feel like they’re watching.”

Rafe stepped closer, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s the fun part.”

You knew you shouldn’t have gone in.

But you did.

The second you crossed the threshold, the air changed. Thick. Cold. Wrong. The front door creaked shut behind you without anyone touching it.

“Old wood,” Rafe said. But even he didn’t sound sure.

The wallpaper was peeling like skin. The floorboards groaned under your steps like they were warning you with every creak. But the worst part?

The whispering.

Faint. Distant. Like it was coming from under the house.

“Did you hear that?” you asked, freezing mid-step.

Rafe stopped. Listened.

Nothing.

But then — a breath against your ear that wasn’t his.

“Get out.”

You spun, heart slamming against your ribs. No one there. Just shadows. Just Rafe, staring at you like you were the ghost.

“Something touched me,” you whispered.

“I didn’t see anything.”

“I felt it.”

He looked around. “Maybe it wants to say hi.”

You glared. “This isn’t a joke.”

And that’s when the mirror shattered behind you.

You both froze. Shards on the ground. No wind. No impact. Just… glass, broken like something had screamed at it.

Rafe finally looked shaken.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

You turned toward the door — and it slammed shut. Locked. Bolted from the outside.

That’s when the lights came on. There was no power in the house.

Every bulb flickered to life, buzzing, humming. And in each room, a reflection. A girl. Pale. Eyes hollow. Mouth open in a silent scream.

“Rafe,” you gasped. “Look.”

But he was already moving, pulling you by the wrist, racing toward the back door.

The hallway twisted — literally twisted — like the house didn’t want to let you go. Like it was stretching, warping, dragging you deeper.

Rafe kicked a door in. The basement.

“No,” you breathed. “We’re not going down there—”

“It’s the only way.”

You hesitated.

Then the whisper came again — this time from inside your own mind.

“He doesn’t leave. He belongs to us now.” You snapped your head toward Rafe. He was pale. Sweating. Staring at nothing.

“Do you hear them too?” he asked, voice shaking.

You nodded.