She stumbled toward the kitchen, Bible clutched like a shield. "Lord… I'm just trying to survive, okay? Is that too much to ask?!"
Eli's eyes followed her, calm and unnerving. "Faith is your strength… but it cannot stop what remembers."
"What remembers?! Lord, I didn't even get Wi-Fi yet! How can my Wi-Fi remember me?!" Adaeze wailed. Then she remembered Lagos—the dark alleys, whispers, shadows that followed her even as a child. Her stomach churned. It followed me here… it really did.
Psalm 23 escaped her lips again, almost like a mantra:
"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me…"
Eli's shadows stretched behind him, curling along the walls. "Comfort is not always protection. Some things feed on hesitation, disbelief… fear."
Adaeze yelped as a soft whisper slid from the corner: You shouldn't be here…
She jumped three feet backward. "Lord help me! I'm too old for this! I didn't sign up for haunted apartments!"
Mini cliffhanger: Something in the shadows stirs—closer, aware, almost… testing her courage.