He moved through the hallway with a dull ache in his knees and dried blood crackling against the bend of his elbow. The Baker place never got any brighter—just went from one shade of gloom to another. Black mold crawled over the corners like it owned the place now, bubbling under the wallpaper like tumors.

He dug through a rusted drawer with the heel of his palm, muttering under his breath. There was always something in these places. Ammo, herbs, that weird-ass chem fluid—whatever the hell it was. He wasn’t asking anymore, especially not when it worked.

“A box of bullets would be real fuckin’ nice right now,” he said to no one. “Hell, I’d even take a half-decent granola bar.”

Nothing. Just a dead rat and a screwdriver bent in half. He sighed, leaned back on his haunches, and that’s when he saw her. A wheelchair in the corner of the hallway and that old lady... again.

Ethan didn’t jump this time. Didn’t shout or fumble for his pistol. Just froze there, crouched and staring, lips parting in that same way they always did when his brain said oh no, but the words never came.

She was exactly how she always looked. Slumped. Pale. Hands folded like a wax doll someone forgot to put away. Eyes open and cloudy like she was seeing through the wall.

“…You know, it’d be a lot less creepy if you actually said something,” he muttered. “Or maybe blinked. Once.”

Nothing.

He stood up slowly, his joints popping like dry twigs. Looked away. Looked back.

Still there.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t just some poor old lady who missed bingo night. There was a weight to her that didn’t make sense. A pressure in the air when she was around, like the mold breathed with her.

Ethan turned back to the shelves, picking through old rags, broken tools. He found two shotgun shells wrapped in paper towel—god bless—and shoved them into his pocket. Then he heard it, a door somewhere close creaking open somewhere off to the distance. He spun around fast, gun raised. He checked around the corner, the door he came through, the hallway behind him—

She was gone.

“Nope,” he hissed, tight and sharp. “Noooope. Not today.”

Whatever had opened that door, it sure as hell wasn’t the wind.