Janelle planted her feet, pulse hammering. Fear was clawing at her, but she wouldn’t let it control her. Not this time.
She squared her shoulders and held the stranger’s gaze.
“You’re telling me to leave like you have some authority over this place. But you’re still
here, why?”
The man’s jaw tightened. Shadows stretched across his face in the dim corridor light.
“You don’t understand,” he said, voice low, urgent. “This house, it remembers. It doesn’t forget the ones who come looking.”
Janelle clenched her fists.
“Good. I’m looking for answers. And I’m not leaving until I get them.”
A slow, weary sigh escaped him. Then, he stepped closer.
“If you challenge the house, it will answer,” he said.
“But you won’t like what it has to say.”
The walls trembled. Somewhere deep within the house, a door slammed shut on its own.
Janelle’s breath hitched, but she refused to back down.
“What happened to Evelyn March?” she demanded.
“Why does this place still whisper her name?”
The man’s expression darkened.
“You think Evelyn was the first?” he murmured.
“She wasn’t. And she won’t be the last.”
Something shifted behind Janelle. The corridor stretched, widening, shifting, pulling her deeper.