I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I couldn’t.
The air in my room felt too thick, like every breath had to be pulled through molasses.
My limbs itched with invisible heat, my muscles twitching like I’d run miles in my sleep—but I hadn’t even closed my eyes.
The presence inside me wasn’t gone.
It was just quiet.
Waiting.
Like it knew something was coming.
And maybe… it did.
By morning, I felt like a live wire.
Even the hum of the refrigerator downstairs sent shivers across my spine.
I caught myself flinching at the sound of a neighbor’s car door slamming.
The world wasn’t louder—it was closer.
Closer to what?
That question wouldn’t leave me alone.
At school, it got worse.
Every movement around me came with a ripple of sensation.
The soft
