The ticking of a non-existent clock is the kind of sound that crawls under your skin, burrowing deep into your bones.
It shouldn't be there, yet it pulses through the silence, an unnatural rhythm that makes the air feel heavier, like something is watching. Riley's breath hitched, the ticking pressing down on him, making every hair on his body stand on end.
In the stillness of the room, with the broken clock hanging lifeless on the wall, the steady 'tick tock' coming from beneath Eleanor's bed became unbearable, sinister in its persistence. It wasn't just a sound—it felt like a countdown. A warning.
Eleanor stepped back, her confidence melting away as her own breath quickened. The mocking words she'd planned to say died in her throat, replaced by a cold dread. They both knew it now.
Something was there.
And it wasn't supposed to be.
...
