Don't touch me

enting. But the silence was almost too perfect, as if the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. She tried to dismiss

es surrounding the house, their gnarled branches stretching toward the windows like skeletal fingers. At first, she thought it was

insistent, as if someone-or something-was trying to get her attention. It seemed to be coming from the walls, moving fro

houses like this one often made strange noises, especially at night when everything was quiet. But this felt different. There

iting for her reaction, watching her. She pulled the covers up to her chin, feeling like a child again, hiding from the monsters under the

like a home. But no matter what she did, she couldn't escape the feeling that something was watching her. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of l

e out the words. It sounded like a conversation, but she couldn't tell if it was one voice or many. She strained to listen

to grab her keys and leave, but where would she go? She couldn't keep running forever. Besides, she told herself, i

o push the fear aside, telling herself she was overreacting. But the more she ignored it, the stronger the feeling became

the sounds that filled the house. The tapping, the whispers, the strange creaks and groans-all of it seemed to be building tow

with shadows that moved on their own, voices that whispered her name,