Satoru lay curled under the blanket in the middle of the night, the room shrouded in a heavy stillness. Outside, the garden was dark and gloomy, the moonlight barely pushing through the heavy clouds. Thank God the window was shut—he didn't want the night to breathe in,the muffled voices of his parents reached him again, arguing. As always. But something was wrong. The words—they were a bizarre string of gibberish, voices warping from normal tones into deep, guttural growls, then snapping back to familiar pitches with unsettling ease. The static in his mind grew louder, prickling like needles across his skull as if a void was blooming inside him, swallowing him whole from the inside out. His eyes snapped open. But had he ever truly been asleep? ,It echoed from downstairs now. He couldn’t be dreaming. He dragged himself out of bed and crept down the stairs. The house was dark and silent, but not in the comforting way a home should be. In the kitchen, he opened the fridge. Nothing greeted him but a half-empty jug of chilled water. He poured a glass with shaky hands, his throat dry and his mind eerily blank—save for the ever-present static. He drank, letting the cold water soothe him. Setting the glass down, his eyes wandered the hollow space around him. This house was quiet now, far too quiet. It was never like the places in his dreams. His parents were dead. Two years. No one could or would tell him how. Car crash, murder, accident… the lies shifted each time he asked. He’d stopped asking. Because every night, he still heard them. Tonight was no different. His gaze fell to the slightly ajar door of the living room. From within,Two eyes glowing faintly, patiently watched him from the dark. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t feel fear. Instead, a strange comfort settled over him, even as his heart hammered wildly in his chest. The eyes blinked out. The darkness lesser

He turned and hurried back upstairs. The wind had picked up, howling through the garden, making the trees claw at his windowpanes with skeletal fingers. Once inside his room, he shut the door, climbed back into bed, and shut his eyes. Silence stretched long, suffocating. Then his eyes snapped open. The nightmare returned. She was there. Pale and faceless, standing in his doorway as it creaked open, her arm outstretched toward him. Above her, on the ceiling, the same crimson words appeared again, glaring at him “Ur blood… Ur fault.” Then a scream tore through the hallway behind her—a piercing, shriek that made Satoru's eardrums throb and his vision blur. He jolted upright in bed, gasping. Cold sweat clung to his skin. His breaths came ragged and fast as he scanned the room. Morning light filtered through the window. Birds chirped. It was over. Another nightmare. Or so it seemed. He stumbled out of bed. He went about his routine, and headed to university. His dark circles were deeper than ever, a physical testament to his restless nights. He searched for his best friend —but she wasn't there. Just his thoughts. Just the gnawing voices. He made it through the day in a haze, barely holding on.soon, the day ended. He climbed the bus and stared blankly outside. Back home, he microwaved some leftover pasta and ate in silence. Then exhaustion took him, dragging him into a nap that stole the daylight. When he awoke, it was night again. Frustrated, he wandered outside into the cold garden air, trying to soothe his thoughts. The wind played with his white locks. His stomach twisted. His eyes scanned the trees—and then he saw her. She was standing by the well. once more. His heart thudded. The world tilted. The trees loomed like sentinels, and the whispers returned, curling in the air around him. He closed his eyes, lips murmuring prayers Just make it stop. Just let him go. Then a voice. His best friend’s voice, calling his name. A pat on his back snapping him out. He opened his eyes. The garden was empty. He turned, finding her there. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a trembling embrace. To her, it was another panic attack, but to him, it was all too real