Chapter 1
It’s that dead hour of the night — when the world outside your window feels hollow, but inside, the air is alive with chaos.
The voices are sharp now. Not muffled. Not distant. Angry.
Every word slams into the walls and bounces back twice as loud.
There’s crying too — high, broken, desperate.
And under it, the sound you can’t ignore: that deep, gut-wrenching scream of someone in pain.
You pull the blanket tighter, as if it could block it all out, but it doesn’t. It seeps in through your ears, your chest, your bones. You try to shut your eyes — maybe fall asleep, maybe escape — but instead you fall straight into it.
The dream isn’t a dream.
It’s the same house, same walls, same screaming. You’re walking down a hallway that stretches longer than it should, doors rattling on either side. Shadows twist under the doorframes. The crying moves from one side to the other, like it’s running from something… or being dragged.
The arguing follows. Closer now. You can hear the venom in every syllable — no mercy, no pause, no way to reason. You start running, but every step sinks into the floor like you’re moving through wet cement.
Somewhere up ahead, there’s a door glowing faintly. The only way out. You push toward it, lungs burning, heart racing. The screaming gets louder, like it’s right next to your ear now. You finally reach the door — grab the handle —
It doesn’t open.
And that’s when you realize… the voices aren’t chasing you.
They’re already inside you.
You jolt awake, but the noise hasn’t stopped. The crying. The yelling. The pain.
And there’s no telling if it’s real or if you’re still trapped in the dream.
