Ellie
I was huddled under the sheets, every muscle knotted with dread. I was back in my childhood room. I knew that's where I was because even in the dark, I could see the worn pinkish wallpaper.
A groan of hinges shattered the silence—the door creaked open with a slow, deliberate malice that clawed at my nerves. My pulse hammered against my throat, a frantic drumbeat echoing the terror constricting my chest.
"Stay back," I hissed into the darkness, my voice a broken whisper, barely escaping the fortress of my covers.
The figure loomed. I knew those shoulders, broad and cloaked in darkness, a silhouette that had haunted more than just my dreams.
"Please," my voice quivered, "don't do this." Desperation clawed at my throat, each word a struggle as familiar dread wrapped its icy fingers around my heart.
