**Chapter 6: The Man With No Eyes**
429 Words
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Evelyn didn’t sleep that night.
She sat in the hallway outside Lila’s room, her back against the wall, holding the diary in her lap. Every creak of the house, every groan of the wind felt louder, closer—like the house was trying to whisper its secrets again.
The image of the diary’s final line burned in her mind:
> *“He pushed me.”*
Who was **he**?
And why did Rosie never get justice?
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The next morning, Evelyn returned to the attic.
This time, she brought her phone and began taking pictures of everything—the drawings, the torn dress, the floorboard. She needed evidence. Proof that she wasn’t losing her mind.
But something had changed.
The rocking chair wasn’t empty anymore.
A **pair of small black shoes** sat neatly on the seat.
They weren’t there yesterday.
Her hands trembled.
She didn’t touch them.
She just stared, frozen, until she heard a faint scratching noise.
It was coming from the corner.
From the wall behind the old dresser.
She slowly moved toward it, her flashlight beam shaking.
The scratching continued—rhythmic, like fingernails clawing wood.
Then… a whisper.
Not from the floor.
Not from the wall.
**From inside her head.**
> *“He sees you.”*
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Evelyn gasped and stumbled back, knocking over a box of old books.
She bolted from the attic and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it.
Her chest heaved. Sweat poured down her neck.
She couldn’t deny it anymore.
Rosie wasn’t alone in that attic.
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That evening, Evelyn took Lila out for a walk—anything to get her away from the house.
As they strolled past the overgrown trees, Lila tugged on her mother’s sleeve.
“Mommy… do you believe in monsters?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”
Lila pointed toward the attic window.
“There’s a man in there,” she said softly. “But he doesn’t have any eyes.”
Evelyn turned, her heart stopping cold.
The attic window was empty.
But she felt it.
**Someone was watching.**
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That night, Evelyn placed a chair under the attic door and kept a knife under her pillow.
She clutched the diary tight, flipping through the pages until she found one with a drawing.
A child’s sketch.
Of a tall man in a black coat.
No eyes.
No face.
Just a shadow.
The caption beneath it said:
> *“He lives in the walls. He feeds on secrets.”*
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- Writer
