As he entered the house, a heavy silence enveloped him. He tiptoed through the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bedroom, he froze. The sight before him was hauntingly surreal.

Emma was not in bed. Instead, she was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes wide open, staring blankly at the wall. Her skin was pallid, and her features were twisted into an expression of sheer terror. But what truly made John’s hair turn gray was the message scrawled across the wall in what appeared to be blood: “I KNOW.”