She crouched beside the bed, Bible clutched like a shield. Psalm 23 poured from her trembling lips:
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me."
A sudden knock echoed—not from the door, but somewhere inside the apartment. The sound reverberated across the floorboards.
Adaeze's breath hitched. Lights flickered violently, then stabilized. In the far corner of the room, shadows bent unnaturally, stretching across walls and floor. A figure seemed to pulse in the darkness, waiting.
Even her Bible felt heavier, almost resisting her grasp, like it knew she shouldn't be here.
Her hands shook. She whispered, "Who's there?"
Silence. Then a soft, deliberate hiss:
"You can't hide… Adaeze…"
She scrambled backward, tripping over her suitcase. Clothes spilled onto the floor. The shadow recoiled for a heartbeat, then returned, closer, more imposing, almost alive.
Mini-climax: The flat phone rang suddenly, shrill and unexpected.
Adaeze jumped, heart leaping. She hesitated, staring at the receiver. When she lifted it, static whispered her name before the line went dead.