Lilia's voice came out in a soft, trembling whisper.
"Is anyone there?"
The words felt thick in her throat, heavy with fear. Her body trembled as though the cold had seeped into her bones, but it wasn't just the night air that chilled her. Clad in a silky white nightdress that swayed around her ankles, she felt exposed, vulnerable. One hand pressed tightly against her chest as if trying to steady her racing heart, while the other gripped a small torch.
Her bare feet barely made a sound against the dew-covered grass, but the chill stung. The cold bit at her toes, creeping up her legs, yet she didn't retreat. She had stepped out of the mansion tonight, drawn by a gnawing unease that had refused to leave her for three days.
It wasn't just unease—it was a presence. Someone—or something—was watching her. She could feel it as clearly as she could feel the biting wind against her skin. It was an oppressive weight, pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. And tonight, she could no longer ignore it.
For the past three nights, it had been the same. A prickling sensation at the back of her neck, as if unseen eyes followed her every move, their gaze never leaving. At first, she told herself it was nothing, just a figment of her imagination, the result of too many restless nights. But the feeling grew stronger each day, until tonight, when it was suffocating.
Her steps faltered. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the mansion behind her. It loomed in the darkness, its tall windows like unblinking eyes watching her leave. Why had she come out here? Why tonight?
The thought struck her again, sharper this time. Her room was on the top floor. The mansion stood tall, its walls impenetrable, its windows far out of reach. So why did it always feel like someone was at her window, watching her as she slept?
Lilia swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the cool air. The torchlight in her hand wavered slightly, casting dancing shadows around her. Her trembling fingers tightened around the torch, and she forced herself to take a deep breath.
Then it happened—a faint rustle from the shadows.
Her heart stopped.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to freeze her in place. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving with effort as she strained her ears to catch another sound. The night stretched around her, silent and oppressive. Slowly, she turned the torch toward the noise, her hand trembling as the light cut through the darkness.
"Who's there?" she whispered, though the words barely left her lips.
The torchlight swung in a wide arc, illuminating nothing but the overgrown grass and the gnarled trees that lined the edge of the mansion's property. The shadows seemed alive, shifting and flickering just out of reach of the light.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Lilia's pulse hammered in her ears as she tried to make sense of what she had heard. The wind, which had been still just moments ago, shifted suddenly, brushing against her back like a cold hand. Her skin prickled, goosebumps erupting along her arms. She spun around, the torchlight jerking with her movement, but again, there was nothing.
Her laugh broke the silence, hollow and forced.
"Haha," she muttered under her breath, the sound foreign in the heavy night air. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled too much to hold it. "It's just my imagination," she whispered, more to herself than anyone—or anything—else.
But deep down, she didn't believe it.
"Go back now, Lilia," she told herself, her voice firm in her mind. Yet her feet refused to move. She stood rooted to the spot, her legs trembling beneath her as though weighed down by the fear coursing through her.
Her thoughts spiraled. Why had she stepped out of the mansion? Why hadn't she stayed in the safety of her room, locked the doors, and ignored the gnawing unease that had driven her out here?
The torch flickered.
Her breath caught. She looked down, panic tightening her chest as she tapped the switch desperately. The faint light sputtered, blinked, and then went out.
"No, no, no," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the torch, hitting it against her palm in a frantic attempt to bring it back to life.
The darkness around her seemed to press in closer, suffocating and unrelenting. The air grew colder, biting at her skin as though it had a will of its own. She shivered violently, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
"Please," she whispered again, her voice breaking. Her fingers shook so badly that the torch slipped from her hand, hitting the ground with a sharp clatter. The sound echoed in the stillness, startling her.
Her eyes darted to the fallen torch. Its faint light flickered weakly, a small glimmer in the suffocating darkness. She reached for it, but her hand stopped halfway as a shadow moved just beyond the edge of her vision.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
It was quick—so quick she almost doubted she had seen it. But the memory of the movement lingered, burned into her mind. A dark shape, there one moment and gone the next.
Lilia's breath hitched as icy fingers seemed to trail down her spine. Her body froze, her muscles locked in place as fear rooted her to the spot. She wanted to run, to scream, to do anything, but all she could do was stare into the shadows, waiting for something to emerge.
And then she saw it—a shadow, darker than the rest, shifting unnaturally against the faint light of the torch.
Her body screamed at her to move, to run, to do anything but stand there. Her lips parted, a shaky breath escaping her as her heart thundered in her chest. But before she could act, the shadow disappeared, melting back into the darkness.
Lilia blinked, her mind racing to process what she had seen. But before she could make sense of it, a hand grabbed her wrist.
Her scream tore through the silence.
"Ahhh!"
The sound was raw, a mixture of terror and desperation. Her body jerked violently, trying to free herself from the unyielding grip. Panic crashed over her in waves, her thoughts spiraling out of control.
She spun around, her wide eyes locking onto the figure behind her. For a moment, all the air seemed to leave her lungs.
It was her mother.
Relief flooded her chest, only to be quickly replaced by a cold dread as she took in the look on her mother's face. Her expression was stern, her eyes sharp with anger and suspicion.
"What are you doing out here at this hour?" her mother demanded, her voice low and firm, each word carrying the weight of reprimand.
Lilia opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could she explain the inexplicable? How could she tell her mother that she had felt someone watching her, following her?
Her mother's eyes narrowed. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Lilia's heart raced as she realized that no explanation she could give would make sense. Curiosity had led her out here, and now, standing before her mother's unyielding gaze, she felt the full weight of her mistake.
Curiosity really did kill the cat. And from the way her mother was looking at her now, Lilia might as well have been dead already.