Angelina didn't sleep.
She lay on her bed, eyes wide open, staring at the dark ceiling. The room was quiet, but her mind was loud. Her heart still beat fast like a drum.
She tried to tell herself it was just her imagination.
But the moment she closed her eyes, she heard it again.
A soft whimper.
Not far away.
Not close either.
Like it was inside the walls.
She pulled her blanket over her head and tried to block the sound.
But the whimper didn't stop.
Instead, it moved.
From her room…
To the hallway…
To the door…
And then—right outside her bedroom.
The whimper became clearer.
A small, shaky voice whispered:
"Help me… please…"
Angelina's breath caught.
She stared at her bedroom door.
Her hands shook.
The whimper sounded like a child.
A child who was lost.
She told herself to ignore it.
But her body moved on its own.
She got up.
Her feet touched the cold floor.
Her hand reached for the door.
She opened it slowly.
The hallway was dark.
The lights were off.
And there was nothing there.
Just the silence.
But then the whimper came again.
This time, it was closer.
It came from the staircase.
Angelina stepped down.
The staircase creaked as she moved.
The whimper echoed through the house like a broken sound.
When she reached the bottom, she saw the living room.
Empty.
Her family's pictures on the wall.
The sofa.
The TV.
Everything normal.
Except for one thing.
A small, pale handprint on the wall—
as if someone had pressed their hand there.
The paint was slightly smeared.
Like it was done recently.
Angelina walked closer.
The whimper grew louder.
The air became colder.
The hairs on her arms stood up.
She stared at the wall.
And then she saw it.
A shadow.
A silhouette.
A girl standing at the end of the hallway.
She looked like a child.
Her hair long and messy.
Her head slightly tilted.
Her face hidden in darkness.
Angelina's mouth went dry.
The girl didn't move.
She just stood there.
Whimpering.
Angelina's body froze.
Her heart was pounding.
The girl raised her hand slowly, pointing toward the staircase again.
Angelina didn't understand.
She looked at the girl, confused and scared.
The girl whispered again, barely audible:
"Don't answer me…"
Then the girl disappeared.
The whimper stopped.
The house returned to silence.
Angelina stood there for a moment, trembling.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to run.
But she couldn't move.
Her mind kept repeating the girl's words:
"Don't answer me."
She realized something then.
This wasn't just a ghost.
This was a warning.
A rule.
A rule she didn't know yet.