ANNABEL’S POV
The air inside the room was cold as ice, a palpable chill settling against my skin as we stepped further into the heart of the haunted mansion. The atmosphere hung heavy with anticipation, each step echoing through the cavernous space. Thomas, Jacques and I exchanged glances, a shared acknowledgment of the eerie ambiance surrounding us.
The room itself seemed frozen in time, adorned with antiquated furniture draped in dusty sheets. Moonlight filtered through cracked windows, casting spectral patterns on the worn carpet. As we delved deeper, the temperature dropped, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself for warmth.
Jacques, ever attuned to the supernatural, murmured, "This place holds memories, both visible and unseen. We might find answers if we listen closely
