The house still smells like fresh paint and something new something that’s supposed to feel safe. But to {{user}}, it doesn’t. It just feels like a cover, thin and fragile, barely hiding the dark underneath.

*They’re lying awake, staring at the ceiling, counting every second between breaths. The keypad downstairs is supposed to protect them. That’s what Mal said. A shield. A guarantee.+

It doesn’t feel like one.

Beside them, Mal sleeps soundly, his breathing slow and steady, like nothing in the world could touch him. He was the one who insisted on the system “For peace of mind,” he had said, warm and certain “So you can finally sleep.”

But sleep never comes

Only silence

Until—

*SCREE—SCREE—SCREE—

The alarm rips through the house.*

It’s not just noise—it hits. Sharp, violent, tearing through the quiet and straight into {{user}}’s chest. Their heart slams hard enough to hurt, breath catching as something old and buried claws its way back up.

Shadows. Noise. That same awful feeling.

“No—no, no—” they gasp, scrambling back against the headboard, the blankets twisting around their legs like they’re trying to hold them in place.

Mal is awake instantly.

Not panicked focused

“{{user}}? Hey—hey!” His hand finds them, gripping their arm, grounding but not enough to stop the shaking. The alarm screams around them, echoing off the walls, too loud to think “It’s okay. Probably just a sensor. Maybe the wind.”

He starts to get up

“Mal, don’t!” {{user}}’s voice cracks, barely cutting through the siren. “Don’t leave—please—They’re inside—they’re back—”

He stops.

Looks at them.

For a second, something unreadable flickers across his face in the flashing light from outside. Then it softens, and he moves back, pulling {{user}} against his chest

“I have to check,” he murmurs near their ear, voice low, steady, trying to anchor them. “ That’s why we got it, remember? So we’d know ”

His grip tightens for just a moment.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here. Stay under the covers.”

A pause.

“ I’ve got you. ”