Cold water drips onto my face, jolting me awake. I was dreaming. In my dream I was in the cabin, but it isn't mine anymore. The walls stretched taller, the ceiling disappeared into a void of shadows. The air smelled faintly of earth and mildew, damp and clinging, like the inside of a grave. The furniture was gone. The room was empty—except for a door. It stood in the middle of the floor, not connected to anything. A simple wooden door, its surface old and scarred with deep scratches that look like claw marks. The doorknob gleamed faintly in the dim light, its brass untouched by time. I didn't want to touch it. I didn't want to get near it. But my feet moved on their own, dragging me forward with heavy, shuffling steps. As I got closer, I heard it—a sound from behind the door. Faint, rhythmic. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound was slow and deliberate, like it was waiting for me to answer. My chest ached. My breathing grew shallow, but I couldn't stop moving. My hand lifted to the knob, trembling. "Don't," I whispered to myself, my voice cracking. "Don't open it." But I did. The door creaked open slowly, the sound sharp and grating, echoing far too loudly in the emptiness of the room. I peered inside, and there's nothing. Just blackness. A vast, endless void that seemed to pull me in the longer I looked at it. Then, something moves. From the darkness, a hand emerged—long and gray, the skin mottled and stretched over sharp bones. The fingers twitched and curled, dragging along the floor as it reaches toward me. My breath stopped, my heart hammered in my chest as I stumbled back. I tried to scream, but no sound comes. The hand stopped just at the threshold of the door, its fingers spreading wide like it's beckoning me closer. And then I heard it. A voice. A voice I didn't know, soft and deep, like it was coming from inside my own head: You can't leave, Adam. Not yet. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. ✽✽✽ I haven't dreamed so vividly in years. It felt as if I wasn't in my own body anymore. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and the water off my face. I look up. I see the Crepe Myrtle directly above me. Dew must have fallen from her blooms. I'm near the koi pond. How did I get here? Sleepwalking again? I stumbled to my feet. The panic attack settles into my chest, claiming its space like an unwelcome guest. What time is it? I glance at my watch: 3:04am. The battery must be dead. Convenient. At least I'm not far from the house. I grab a bundle of flowers from the tree. It's the least I can do since I surely put Lily through hell while dealing with whatever sickness I'm trying to overcome. "Lily!" I call her as loud as I can. My voice is hoarse. I don't have the vocal energy to call her name a second time. I pass the shed as I make my way to the house. The smell is rank. "Adam!" I hear my name called. "Lil?" I turn towards the thick forest to my left. Adam I take a few steps toward the tree line, cupping my hands around my mouth. "What are you doing?" I call out, my voice cutting through the stillness. Adam The voice sounds like Lily, but something is off—too sharp, too strained. I take a hesitant step closer, but the world around me has already changed. The air is heavy, suffocating. No birds sang, no leaves rustled. The trees stand unnaturally still, their branches frozen in place. My heart pounded in the silence, each beat loud and jarring, echoing into the thick brush like a warning. I stop, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Something is wrong. I can feel it. I step back slowly, careful not to make a sound, the heat of panic crawling up my neck and flooding my limbs. My foot brushes against something solid near the shed. A shovel. I bend down and pick it up, my hands trembling as I grip the handle tightly, the cold metal grounding me just enough to keep from bolting. Adam The scream tears through the stillness, raw and violent. It's not Lily. It can't be. The voice is too harsh, too jagged, yet it sounds impossibly close—just a few feet away. My eyes dart around the clearing, scanning the shadows, but there's nothing. Adam This time, it's her voice. Lily's voice. Panic surges in my chest, sharp and suffocating. How is this happening? My grip on the shovel falters, my hands trembling. Where is she? I drop the shovel with a dull thud and bolt for the house, my legs barely carrying me as the voice chases me, echoing in my mind. My boots slam against the porch steps, and I throw the door open, stumbling inside. The air in the cabin feels heavier, pressing against me as I lean against the door, gasping for breath. I twist the lock, my hands trembling, and press my back to the wood as if it's the only thing holding me upright. "Where are you?!?" I ran down the hallway, checking the bedroom and bathroom on my way to the basement door. "Lily! Where the fuck are you?" I grab the handle to the basement door. It's locked. She never locks this door. I grab the handle and wiggle it back and forth a few more times. I kick the door. "Lily! Open the goddamn door! What the fuck is going on?!?" "Adam?" I quickly turn around and there she is, staring at me like she just saw a ghost. "Adam, what are you doing? You're scaring me!" "What am I doing? I've been calling you and you weren't answering me, and I couldn't find you!" I blurted out, my voice cracking under the weight of my frustration and fear. She's standing there, staring at me, her expression a mix of worry and confusion. But something about her feels...off. I can't quite put my finger on it. Her posture, the way she's looking at me—it's familiar, yet strange, like I'm seeing her through a distorted lens. Lily places one hand on my chest and the other on my forehead, her touch warm and steady. "Babe, you've been in bed all day. You never called my name, not until you started assaulting the basement door." "Why is the door locked?" I ask, my voice sharp, the words carrying an edge of accusation. "It's not…" she starts, her voice trailing off, hesitant, as if she's searching for the right words. Her eyes dart away for a moment before snapping back to mine, wide and uncertain. I reach out and turn the doorknob… it opens. "Lily, I am so sorry. I don't really know what to say. What time is it?" Her eyes gleam in the golden hour sun filtering through the window, the last light of day casting a warm glow across her face. "It's 6pm. You slept all night and most of the day. You'll be okay, love. Go back to bed. I'll have some lunch ready soon. Rabbit cacciatore." 6pm? I really slept that long? My back is killing me. Burning, actually. "Lil, can you take a look at my back? It's burning. I'm worried I may have come across some poison Ivy or something." She gently lifts my shirt and says nothing for a few seconds. "Lily? What's it lookin' like back there?" "I don't see anything. You must just be sore from laying in the bed so long." She rubs her hands gently across the skin on my back. "You don't remember me leaving the house at all today?" "Adam, stop worrying so much. You're gonna be fine. Your anxiety is causing you more problems than anything else." I pull my shirt back down over my back and crawl into bed. "I'm sure you're right, my love. You always are." I shoot her a smirk and blow her a kiss. She grins, rolls her eyes, and shuts the bedroom door. I drift in and out of sleep, each attempt lasting only minutes before the pain in my back jolts me awake. No position feels right, no amount of shifting can ease the discomfort. Groaning, I ease myself out of bed, hoping a bit of movement might loosen whatever's causing this unbearable ache. Maybe Lily's right. Maybe I've just been in bed too long. I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower, letting the steam roll out and fill the space. The warmth feels good at first, soothing my clammy skin and easing the fever's grip. I step under the stream of water, letting it cascade down my back— And then I collapse. A blinding pain tears through me as the water hits my back. It's unbearable, as though something is searing into my skin. I drop to my knees with a strangled cry, gripping the edge of the tub for support. "Fuck!" The word comes out hoarse and desperate, echoing in the steamy room. Shaking, I climb out of the shower, my breathing ragged. I grab a towel and dry off as quickly as my trembling hands allow. My heart pounds as I turn to the mirror, bracing myself. And then I see it. Thick streaks of black tar coat my back, glistening under the bathroom light. It's not random—it's deliberate, precise, like someone painted it there. Symbols crawl across my skin, strange and sinister, their lines sharp and jagged. My stomach churns as my eyes lock onto one in particular—a crude shape, vaguely resembling a rabbit's head. What is happening to me? Why didn't Lily see this earlier when I asked her to look? I step out of the bathroom and into the hallway, immediately hit by the chill. It's freezing again, far colder than it should be. The air feels heavy, like the house itself is pressing down on me. A familiar panic begins to stir, like a wild animal clawing at my chest, sharp and desperate to break free, making it harder and harder to breathe. Why is this happening? My hands tremble as I make my way down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last. I reach the basement door. Locked. Again. I jiggle the handle, frustration building with each failed attempt to open it. I pound on the door, the sound ricocheting through the silent house, loud and jarring against the oppressive stillness. "Lily!" I yell, my voice breaking. But there's nothing. No answer. No sound. Just the echo of my own desperation, bouncing off the walls like a taunt. I make my way back down the hallway, into the kitchen. She was supposed to be cooking dinner, but I can't quite remember what. The air feels wrong. There's no warmth, no scent of food. It's as if no one's been in here at all. Unease rises at the back of my neck as I approach the oven. I pull the door open, and the sight inside makes me slam it shut with a jarring clang. "What the fuck was that?" My voice trembles, barely more than a whisper. I force myself to open the oven again, this time holding my breath to keep the smell at bay. A rabbit. It's whole, unnervingly intact, sitting in a roasting pan. Black tar drips steadily from its lifeless eyes, pooling at the bottom of the pan like ink. My stomach churns, my hand shaking as I reach for the pan. Before I can grab it, the rabbit jerks to life. It leaps from the pan in a blur, black tar splattering across the oven door as it slams shut with a deafening bang that reverberates through the entire house. I glance around the room, my heart pounding as I frantically search for the rabbit. The front door is slightly ajar, swaying ever so slightly as if someone had just passed through it. I take a cautious step forward, then another, my breath caught as I peer outside. There it is. The rabbit sits motionless on the porch, its lifeless eyes still weeping black tar, the dark streaks staining the wood beneath it. The rabbit doesn't move, its tar-soaked gaze fixed on me, as though it's waiting for something. And then it bolts. The rabbit's movements weren't quick—they were jerky, as if it were being pulled by invisible strings. It darts off the porch in a blur, leaving a trail of sticky black tar in its wake, and stops just at the of the forest. The tree line looms dark and foreboding. Adam… The voice slices through the oppressive silence, sharp and chilling. It calls my name again, echoing from the forest. I freeze. My chest tightens, each breath shallow and strained as panic tightens its grip. The voice is familiar, yet wrong—warped, like a distorted echo of something I should know but can't quite place. My head pounds, the throb of my pulse roaring in my ears. I don't understand. None of this makes sense. "Lily? Is that you?!" I yell, my voice trembling, desperate. Silence. The rabbit is still there, perched at the edge of the tree line, tar glistening in the faint light. Its hollow eyes seem locked on me, unblinking, waiting. I take a hesitant step forward, then another, the cold pressing against my skin like an unseen hand. The smell hits me before I reach the trees—the same rancid stench from the shed. It clings to the air, thick and suffocating. Everything is still. No wind. No rustling leaves. The forest feels dead, frozen in time, yet I can't shake the sensation of being watched. Dozens, maybe hundreds of eyes, hidden in the shadows, their gaze heavy and suffocating. Sweat beads on my forehead, trickling down the sides of my face as my heart pounds wildly against my ribs. A wave of dread crashes over me, cold and paralyzing. The dizziness sets in, the ground shifting beneath me like it's alive. My knees buckle, and I stumble forward, the world tilting as I fall. Darkness rushes up to meet me.