The days that followed blurred together in a haze of terror. Evelyn heard footsteps pacing in the empty halls, saw shadows flitting past doorways when no one was there. At night, her dreams grew darker. The man with black eyes began to speak to her, his words fragments of a story she didn't want to understand.
"You're part of us now," he said.
"Why me?" she whispered back in one dream.
"Because you live," he replied. "And the living… owe a debt to the dead."
On the fifth night, Evelyn couldn't take it anymore. Armed with a flashlight and the fading remnants of her courage, she ventured into the basement. The air grew colder with every step she descended, the flashlight beam wavering as if the darkness itself resisted her intrusion.
The basement was a cavernous space, its walls lined with forgotten relics: broken furniture, shattered mirrors, faded portraits. In the center of the room stood a single, rotting wooden chair. And sitting in it was the man from her dreams.
He looked more substantial now, his skin pale and waxy, his black eyes glinting like obsidian. Evelyn froze, unable to move, unable to breathe.
"Why are you here?" she managed to choke out.
The man tilted his head, studying her. "Why are you here?" he echoed.
Evelyn clenched her fists. "I want to know why this house is haunted. Why do you torment the living? Why—"
He interrupted her with a dry, rasping laugh. "Torment? No, no. We don't torment. We teach. We remind."
"Remind us of what?"
"Of what you'll become."
Evelyn shivered, her voice trembling. "Why me? Why this house?"
The man's smile widened, revealing teeth far too sharp to be human. "Because the dead crave life. And the living? You crave understanding. You wander into places like this, seeking answers to questions you should never ask. And when your time comes, you'll join us. You'll haunt, you'll whisper, you'll teach. Just as I do."
She took a step back, her heart hammering. "Why would I do that?"
"Because the dead remember what it is to be alive," he said, rising from the chair. "And the living forget what it means to die."
Evelyn fled the house that night, abandoning her belongings. She swore she'd never return, never speak of what she'd seen.
But the dreams didn't stop.
They followed her to her apartment in the city, to hotel rooms, to friends' couches. Every night, the man with black eyes visited her, his voice growing louder, his words more insistent.