She laid like that until morning, eyes wide, barely blinking. When the first light of dawn seeped through her curtains, she finally exhaled. Her bones ached. Her eyes burned. But something inside her shifted. She was done living in fear like this.
She climbed out of bed and whispered a promise to herself: no more fear, no more pretending. If her home wasn’t safe, she’d find out why. Whatever was happening—whoever was doing this—she would face it. Even if the answer wasn’t one she was ready to hear.
Rose didn’t know what to believe anymore. Paranormal or not, there was something in that house that defied logic. But one thing she was certain of: she wouldn’t live like this—terrified, doubting herself, flinching at shadows. Whatever this was, it would end. She’d make sure of it.
Her engineer brain kicked in like muscle memory. Fear wasn’t useful. Data was. If she wanted answers, she’d need evidence—cold, measurable, timestamped. If it pointed to intruders, she’d call the police. If it hinted at anything else… well she was going to call the realtor and present a hefty lawsuit. Either way, she wasn’t going to let her peace be trampled like this.