She sprints up the stairs, the sound of her feet banging on the wood is too clear in the silence. Her mind is not working, she isn’t thinking about the way it moved, the face it didn’t really have, the sounds it made, the screams and cracking.

No, her mind is not working, she needs to get away, she has come far in the car, as fast as she can and now she’s home. It can’t have followed her, that is impossible, but she won’t slow down until she’s in her room.

She bursts through the door and onto the bed, face down and sobbing as the adrenaline rush takes its toll and her mind catches up with her brain. Deep heaving breaths of air, screaming at the thought of it, the way it wailed, god save her, like a child! The way it looked, wrong, a nightmare invading her waking world.

She turns her head to the door and her noises stop with a sharp intake of breath.

Her heart stabs her chest with cold terror. In the corner of her eye, in the shadow behind the wardrobe… it’s too dark. Oh god, she can see its arm!

She sits frozen, staring at the door, the malformed darkness in her peripheral vision, it knows she sees it, it knows there is nothing she can do now, it knows she knows that.

It waits with a malignant curiosity, a man pulling legs off a spider, to see what she does now.

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