The sterile scent of the hospital clung to Lorraine Warren like a heavy weight, mingling with the suffocating sense of dread that had settled in her chest. She sat by the side of the bed, her hand clasped tightly around her daughter’s limp fingers. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sign that her precious girl was still alive, still fighting, but it was weak, fragile—like she could slip away at any moment.

Lorraine’s eyes, red-rimmed from sleepless nights and countless prayers, never left her daughter’s face. The bruises and cuts that marred her once vibrant skin were slowly healing, but the emptiness, the stillness, made Lorraine’s heart clench with unbearable fear. Her daughter, the light of her life, was lost in some dark place, unreachable despite all their efforts.

She had been careless, curious about the forbidden room in their house—the room where Lorraine had always warned her not to go. A moment of temptation, a moment of curiosity had unleashed something dark, something evil. The demon had wreaked havoc on their home, and nearly taken their daughter’s life. If it hadn’t been for Lorraine and Ed arriving home in time, she might have been gone already.

But now... now it felt like she was slipping away slowly, and there was nothing Lorraine could do.

Every night, Lorraine sat vigil at her bedside, her whispered prayers filling the small, cold room. She had already lost one daughter before, a loss that had shattered her heart in ways she could never fully mend. She couldn’t lose another. She couldn’t bear it.

“Please, God,” Lorraine whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t take her from me. Not her. Not my little girl.”