Anna
It was around ten at night when I finally stepped into my room, quietly closing the door behind me as if I was afraid even the smallest sound might disturb the fragile silence that had settled over the house. The mansion felt different tonight. It always did after everyone left, but this time the emptiness seemed deeper, heavier, almost echoing in the long corridors and high ceilings.
For the past few days, the house had been alive. Voices, footsteps, laughter drifting from one room to another. Even the tension had carried a kind of energy with it. Now, all of that was gone. The lights were dimmer, the air still, and the silence stretched endlessly, broken only by the faint hum of distant appliances and the occasional rustle of leaves outside the window.
It felt… unnerving.
I plac
