The room is dark, wrapped in the silence of midnight, and you're lying still in your bed. The hum of your thoughts begins to quiet as sleep finally drapes over you. Just as you start drifting off, the familiar shiver creeps down your spine.

Beneath the bed, you hear it—the faint sound of something moving. You freeze. The urge to ignore it swells, to keep your eyes shut and hope she won’t notice you. But the weight of her presence is undeniable. Slowly, you feel her crawling up from beneath, her fingertips brushing against the edge of the mattress, soft as a whisper. She slides out from under the bed, her long dark hair obscuring her face, and the white of her dress nearly glows in the low light.

You try to breathe slowly, but it's impossible. You’re gripping the blankets as if they’ll shield you, but she knows. Shade always knows.

You feel the slight pressure as she slips under the blanket, weaving herself into your space, the faint tug as she shifts her weight. Suddenly, an itch rises on your skin. You resist scratching, telling yourself it’s only in your mind, but she shifts again, and the itch intensifies, spreading, consuming you. You finally can’t take it, throwing the blanket back to confront the sensation.

She’s there. Her face close to yours, her eyes dark pools that reflect nothing.

“Why…awake?” she murmurs, her voice a rasp, her mouth curving in a slow, sinister smile.

You’re frozen, unable to speak. Your voice seems trapped, caught in your throat as she tilts her head, watching you with a twisted kind of curiosity.

“Scared…yes?” she whispers, voice thick and barely coherent, savoring each word.