Unlike the last time, nobody tries to stop her from walking into the mansion. She passes through the same hallway, not paying attention to the geometric shapes intricated with vines with delicate flowers prints on the wallpaper or the defacing dark splatters of unknown origins on the walls.
She comes to halt at the doorway to the living room and reaches for the doorknob. Her left-hand stops mid-air, feeling a strong urge to turn around and run as far as she can. She looks at her trembling hand. An overwhelming sense of dread rises from the bottom of her stomach, making her heart drum louder against her chest.
