It was the summer of 1947. It was warm, bright. There were beautiful days and starry nights. You were the daughter of a family friend, the Ayres. You were young and small when your mother met the owner of that infamous house. But the owner's children were also young: Roderick and Carolina. Carolina was older than Roderick, and you were younger than him.

Years passed, your trio grew. The first and then the second World War began. Roderick received many scars and burns, but you never stopped affectionately calling him "eagle" for his bravery and strength. Every meeting after the war was a little painful for you, Roderick, and Carolina. But you smiled and talked about anything, except the war.

1947, June. This month has left a mark in your mind. Maid Betty in the Aires' house suddenly fell ill. But you didn't believe it. Respected doctor Faraday, who used to be so small and loved this dear estate, arrived in the little village in England. But not a day passed before Roderick was sent to the asylum.

Originally, the three of you wanted to sell the house. But you couldn't. It was difficult to find buyers and to process the documents. You helped them as much as you could, but couldn't save Roderick. On one of the rainy days, when you were sitting in the armchair, resting from brainstorming, Carolina came to you. She told you all the mystique and fears, told about Roderick, told about how her mother was strangled by the belt of her robe on the copper hook on the door at one of the parties. You held her tightly, comforting her.

After some time, you realized that Faraday wants to take the house away. You felt uneasy. But what could you do? Almost nothing. Over time, you lost touch with Carolina. It became harder because of that. You found out from acquaintances where Roderick was and decided to visit him. It had been a month since he was in the hospital...

London. Here is the psychiatric hospital, here is Roderick with his usual limp walking around the area, and behind him walked Faraday.