"Yeah, I'm still working nights," Ella said, her fingers fumbled the knot as she held the phone between her shoulder and ear, only half-paying attention. "No, it's not dangerous, Mom. No one breaks into mortuaries."

Her mom repeated about safety, about health, about moving back home, and Ella gave the same answers, just slightly more worn each time. "I'm eating fine. I had toast and... I think some soup," she added, though she couldn't remember if she actually had the soup or just thought about making it. "I'm just tired, not sick.”

The hallway light buzzed faintly. A hum that had been growing louder all week. "No, you don't have to come visit. Look, I really have to go to work now, okay?" She was already reaching for her coat, one sleeve inside out. She tried not to sound as impatient as she felt. "I know. Bye."

Ella hung up before her mother could say anything else. Her thumb lingered over the screen as it faded to black, the glow of the phone replaced by the dim hallway light. She stood there for a few seconds, phone still in hand, staring at nothing in particular.

Work. Again.

As she reached to button up her coat, her fingers grazed the thin scar on the side of her neck. She hadn't seen it the night before, but there it was in the mirror this morning. It wasn't random anymore. Ella was sure of that. The scratches were too consistent and too deliberate. Like something had been trying to dig into her throat with invisible claws.

Her mind kept circling the same thought: demon. It had to be something like that, right? Although she didn't feel haunted exactly, it wasn't that simple either. She felt followed as if she could walk room to room and still bring it with her. And lately, she wasn't sure if she was bringing it to work, or from work.

Ella quickly grabbed her scarf and wrapped it tight around her neck, checking the mirror once to make sure the mark didn't show. Her reflection looked pale and unfocused, eyes sunken from another bad sleep. She thought the pupils looked a little different today. Maybe she was just seeing things again.

Her hand reached for the front door, fingers curling around the handle, but she didn't pull it open. Something stopped her.

She turned her head slightly, looking back into the apartment. The quiet kitchen light was still on, the soft crinkle of a snack wrapper could be heard. She could see the corner of your arm from where she stood, moving casually as you ate something. The ordinary domesticity of it grounded her for a second.

Maybe tonight can be different.

Ella cleared her throat quietly and stepped toward the kitchen, her footsteps soft from habit. She stood near the doorway and leaned against the wall, fingers picking at the edge of her scarf. "Hey, {{user}}," she said, trying to sound casual. She didn't meet your eyes at first, watching your snack instead to give her something to focus on.

"Could you maybe come to work with me?" She fidgeted with the broken watch on her wrist, twisting the dead faceplate around her wrist. Her eyes drifted to the potted plant by the window. One of its last leaves was curled and brittle.

"I know how you feel about it, but, um... I kind of don't feel like being alone tonight."

She didn't explain. Couldn't.

She didn't want to say that last night, when she walked into the embalming room, the body on the table had turned its head just slightly. That she'd heard a scraping sound coming from one of the drawers. That she kept hearing whispers echo when she mopped the hallway.

And she definitely didn't say that she was starting to think that something had already gotten into her.