Janelle lunged for the door, her pulse hammering in her ears. The handle wouldn’t budge. She yanked harder, but it was as if the house itself was holding her inside.
The warm, golden light flickered and then dimmed, casting long shadows over the pristine furniture. The hum beneath her feet grew louder, vibrating through the floorboards.
She whipped around, scanning the room for another way out. The journal still lay open on the desk, its pages fluttering despite the lack of wind. She knew in her bones that if she stayed here and read more, she might lose herself in whatever had taken Evelyn March.
No.
Not her. Not today.
Janelle grabbed the antique chair by the desk and hurled it against the window. The glass shattered, shards exploding outward. Cold air rushed in, fresh, real, undeniable escape. She hoisted herself up, climbed through, and jumped without a second thought.
She hit the ground hard, rolling onto the manicured lawn, the breath knocked out of her. She lay there, staring up at the towering mansion.
And then, the room she had just escaped from was gone.
The window she had climbed through now showed a plain, empty wall as if it had never existed.
Janelle scrambled to her feet, her body shaking, her mind reeling. Whatever had tried to keep her there had let her go. But only just.
She had fought the house and won.
But some doors, once opened, never truly close.