Hanna sat on the wooden floor, her back pressed against the wall. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, both arms wrapped around her legs as if she were trying to hold herself together — to stop herself from crying, screaming, or completely falling apart.

  Her mind hadn’t stopped racing for the past two days she’d been trapped there.

  She kept thinking about her mother.

  Was she still alive?

  And that creature — that wolf-like thing that attacked them…

  Hanna still couldn’t understand.

  How could something that big even exist?

  It was enormous… almost the size of a bear.

  Impossible.

  And why… why would her own grandfather want her dead? What had she ever done wrong?

  But the most terrifying thought of all—

  If she ever made it home…

  would her mother still be there waiting for her?

  Or was everything already too late?

  Her chest tightened painfully.

  She lowered her head until her forehead rested against her knees.

  “I have to go back…” she whispered, her voice barely a sound. “Please… don’t leave me, Mom…”

  She just wanted to go home.

  That was all.

  Slowly, Hanna closed her eyes, trying to picture her mother’s beloved face — that gentle smile, those hands that always stroked her hair whenever she was afraid.

  Without her realizing it, the light in the room grew dimmer. Shadows stretched along the walls little by little as evening settled outside.

  The creak of wooden boards shattered the silence.

  Creek… creak…

  Hanna’s eyes snapped open.

  Her head lifted. Her gaze locked onto the door.

  A few seconds later, she heard the sound of a key turning from the outside.

  Her heart began pounding for no clear reason.

  The door opened slowly.

  Martha appeared in the doorway, holding a cup in her hand.

  The old woman smiled.

  A smile that made Hanna’s stomach twist with sudden unease.

  “I brought you something to drink,” Martha said gently, offering the cup.

  Hanna shook her head slightly. “I’m not thirsty.”

  “This isn’t just any drink,” the old woman replied calmly. “Herbs. Good for your body. Aren’t you going home tomorrow?”

  Hanna hesitated.

  “Just leave it on the table… I’ll drink it later.”

  But Martha didn’t move. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the cup tightly, as if waiting for something.

  “Tomorrow morning my son will take you into town,” she continued, her voice soft and coaxing. “Tonight you should sleep early… time will pass quickly. I know… you can’t wait for tomorrow.”

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  Hanna stayed silent.

  “This will help you sleep well,” Martha added. “So you’ll have more energy in the morning.”

  The words sounded reasonable.

  Slowly, Hanna looked at the cup in the woman’s hand. She brought it closer to her nose and sniffed. The herbal smell was sharp, bitter, a little strange — but still tolerable.

  Without thinking much, she took it.

  At that moment, Hanna didn’t notice the change in Martha’s face.

  For a split second, the old woman’s gaze looked different. Her smile stretched too wide — almost frightening.

  But the moment Hanna started drinking, Martha’s expression returned to normal.

  Calm. Gentle.

  Martha watched until the cup was empty.

  “Good…” she murmured softly, satisfied.

  Hanna handed it back, warmth beginning to spread into her stomach.

  This time, Martha’s smile looked far more unsettling — her eyes sharp, lingering… the curve of her lips twisting sideways before she turned toward the door.

  “You’re never going home, you poor girl,” she said openly.

  And this time, Hanna heard it clearly.

  Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.

  “…What?”

  Hanna scrambled to her feet, but Martha had already shut the door.

  “Open this door! Open it!!”

  Hanna screamed at the top of her lungs, pounding her fists against the wood again and again. Her palms began to sting, but she didn’t care.

  The problem was—

  There was no handle on the inside.

  Smooth. Empty.

  As if it had been designed so whoever was inside could never get out.

  “Help! Please open it!”

  No answer.

  Outside, Martha paused for a moment. The old woman listened to Hanna’s screams… then let out a small chuckle before walking away. Her footsteps faded — strangely light, almost as if she were dancing toward the stairs.

  Hanna’s heart raced faster.

  She turned, scanning the room with ragged breaths. Nothing. No chair. No heavy object. Nothing she could use to break the door.

  Her eyes stopped at the window.

  Her last hope.

  Hanna rushed over, yanking the curtain aside—

  “Hah—!!”

  Her body jolted violently.

  “Arghhh!!”

  A scream tore out of her before she could stop it. Her legs lost strength, and she collapsed onto the floor.

  Outside the window…

  A man stood far too close to the glass.

  His face was hideous. Not just ugly — but wrong. Like something that wasn’t meant to exist. His skin was pale and dirty, his mouth stretched into a strange grin, black eyes staring straight at Hanna without blinking.

  Hanna scrambled backward, her hands shaking, until her back hit the bed.

  Tok… tok… tok…

  A slow knocking sound from the window.

  The man kept smiling.

  Only then did she realize — the entire window had been nailed shut with thick wooden boards from the outside.

  There was no gap.

  No escape.

  Hanna forced herself up again, her movements stiff and unsteady. Her heart pounded wildly, her instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong. A crushing sense of danger pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe — like something awful was approaching… and she didn’t have much time.

  Her eyes darted to the door.

  Locked.

  No hope there.

  She turned back to the window, breathing shorter and faster. That was the only way out left.

  Desperate and without thinking, Hanna gathered every ounce of strength she had and hurled herself toward it, her body slamming into the wooden boards.

  “Bang!”

  “Arghhh!!”

  Pain exploded through her. She was thrown backward, collapsing onto the floor again. Her hand clutched her left shoulder, her face twisted in agony. That shoulder had only recently healed — and the impact felt like the bone had cracked all over again.

  Tears pooled in her eyes before she even realized it.

  But before she could recover from the pain, something else began to happen.

  Her vision flickered — clear one second, blurry the next. The lines of the walls seemed to sway. Her head spun violently, her stomach twisting with nausea. Her breathing grew heavy and uneven.

  That was when she realized.

  Martha’s drink…

  Regret stabbed into her chest like a blade.

  “I… I’m so stupid…”

  “Argh…! Arghhh…!”

  Hanna screamed again, trying to force herself up. Her hands pressed against the floor, her leg muscles trembling under her own weight — but her body no longer obeyed her. Her strength drained rapidly, as if something were stealing it from inside her.

  She tried again.

  Failed.

  Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision, closing like a shrinking tunnel of light.

  Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

  And then…

  Everything went black.

  ______

  Meanwhile, downstairs, the atmosphere inside the old house was silent — but a living kind of silence.

  Martha stood at the very front, near the staircase leading upstairs. Her head tilted slightly upward, eyes fixed on the darkness at the top with intense focus.

  Behind her, her children gathered close together.

  Three old men with large but hunched bodies stood there, their faces uneven, skin covered in scars and swollen lumps that made them look strange and frightening. Their breathing was heavy, rasping deep in their chests.

  On the other side, five women stood shoulder to shoulder. Their faces were also imperfect — uneven eyes, crooked lips, rough skin like burn scars. Yet there was something unmistakably similar about them.

  Like family.

  Martha slowly lifted her foot onto the first stair.

  The wood creaked softly.

  She froze, listening.

  From upstairs… came the sounds of impact… screaming… then silence.

  “Huh… huh…”

  One of her sons made a sound, his breath coming out in eager gasps like an animal waiting for food. His hand gripped the edge of his shirt tightly.

  But Martha didn’t turn.

  She kept listening. Focused. Her eyes narrowed slightly, catching every faint sound from above.

  A few seconds passed.

  Then her old lips curled into a thin smile.

  “Wait downstairs,” she said firmly. “Mother will go check.”

  She glanced back sharply, her gaze a warning.

  “Don’t come up until I say.”

  “Huh… huh…”

  “Huh… huh…”

  Her sons nodded obediently, the sounds leaving them like submissive grunts.

  But their eyes never left the staircase—

  filled with hunger they could barely hide.