Don't touch me

ing her new home, a task that could tether her to the present. But as she unboxed her belong

esitated. This wasn't just any photo album-it was a relic of a life she was trying to leave behind. The weight of it felt li

, in almost every picture, smiling like the world hadn't yet shown its cruel side. But each photo seemed

eyes was one of pure love. But now, all Sarah could feel was the cold echo of that touch, the way it had changed over time from something she craved to somet

emotions, sharp and bitter, rising to the surface like bile. She had come here to escape, to forget,

oment. But the house seemed to have other plans. The more she tried to ignore it, the more the air around her thic

paused, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise. It was just the sun setting, she

ruised purple, and the wind rustled through the trees with a low, mournful sound. But even out here, she cou

the trees like tall sentinels guarding some ancient secret. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chil

ty. She made her way to the living room, intending to relax, maybe distract herself wit

d floorboards. She froze, straining to hear it again. For a long moment, there was

adows seemed to dance on the walls, and the darkness in the corners felt thicker, more solid. She wante

ep down, she knew. The past wasn't something she could just unpack and put away. It was aliv