Julia holds her breath.
This voice…
doesn't belong to anyone she knows.
And yet it sounds as if it's been speaking to her for years.
As if it's waiting for her to return to this house.
The flashlight in her hand trembles again as she directs its beam up the stairs.
The hallway leading to the second floor is plunged into absolute darkness.
The beam of her flashlight seems too dim, as if this darkness weren't just darkness, but something alive—it absorbed the light, savored it.
The voice repeats, slower this time:
**—You're back… Julia…**
Her name on his lips sounds like something between a prayer and a curse.
--
The stairs creak beneath her feet, as if protesting being walked on again.
The house seems to breathe—but not with the rhythm of a living creature.
More like something that should have been dead long ago, yet it persists, stubborn and hungry.
Each step makes the air grow colder.
Heavier.
And Julia begins to feel like she's not going *uphill*, but *downhill*, as if the floor above her weren't higher, but lower—deeper—into something that doesn't belong in this world.
At the top of the stairs, a hallway awaits her.
Longer than it should be.
Definitely longer than she remembered.
With doors on either side, all slightly ajar.
As if someone had opened them especially for her return.
The flashlight beam sweeps across the first one.
The room is empty.
The second one—too.
The third—
Julia stops abruptly.
Because she sees a silhouette in the third doorway.
*Stands*.
She doesn't move.
She looks like a woman.
In a long, old dress.
Her hair is loose and dark. Her head tilts slightly, as if looking at Julia with curiosity.
But the flashlight beam doesn't touch her.
The silhouette doesn't reflect the light.
She *absorbs it*—just like the darkness in the mirror.
Julia takes a step back.
The silhouette does the same—identically, as if it were her reflection.
Except Julia knows one thing:
This is **not** her reflection.
Not this time.
--
The voice rings for the third time.
It's closer now.
Much closer.
As if someone stood right next to her, close to the skin of her neck, and whispered:
**—The house remembers you, Julia.
The house didn't give her up.
It won't give you up either.**
Julia grips the flashlight so tightly that her knuckles ache.
"Who are you?!" she says, though her voice trembles.
Silence.
The silhouette in the doorway tilts her head more, unnaturally, at an almost impossible angle.
As if her bones didn't work like those of a living person.
The flashlight beam trembles—and for a second, it goes out.
When she returns, the silhouette is gone.
And the door slowly, very slowly… closes by itself.
As if someone were locking it from the inside.
Click.
--
Julia swallows.
There's something here.
Something that knew Natalia.
Something that *wants* her.
She won't back down. Not after what she's seen.
She continues.
At the end of the hall is another door. Heavy, wooden.
She remembers this one very well.
It was her parents' room.
But when she puts her hand on the doorknob, she hears a sound from the other side of the door.
Not a whisper.
Not breathing.
The thing she feared most.
**Crying.**
Quiet.
Broken.
Muffled, as if someone were crying into a pillow.
And Julia recognizes that cry immediately.
*It's Natalia.*
Not on recordings.
Not in memories.
Not from dreams.
Alive.
Close.
As if her sister were just outside the door.
Julia presses her hand to her mouth.
And then—she pushes the doorknob.
--
The room on the other side doesn't look right.
It doesn't look like a place anyone has ever lived in.
Instead of furniture, there's… fog.
Thick, ashen, it glides across the floor as if it had a consciousness of its own.
In the center, she sees a bed.
The same one their mother slept on at night when their father came home late from work.
Someone sits on the bed.
A hunched silhouette.
Long, dark hair falls over her face.
Shoulders shake.
Julia takes another cautious step.
"Nati...?" she whispers.
The figure raises her head.
And Julia feels something cold, sharp, and inhuman tighten around her heart.
Because it's not Natalia.
This **something** that has her face.
But the eyes...
the eyes don't belong to a human.
Black to the core.
No pupils.
No light.
No life.
And yet, it smiles.
Slowly.
Widely.
Too wide.
And says in Natalia's voice:
**—You wanted to find me.
So you found me.**
---
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