Kendra S Obsession: ^new^

Kendra’s blood turned to ice water. She flipped to the last page. The ink was still wet.

“You came,” the other Kendra said. Her voice was the house’s voice. Low. Slow. Hungry.

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

She began staying up late, listening. Not for monsters under the bed—those were childish things. She listened for the between sounds. The pause between the furnace kicking off and the refrigerator humming on. In that silence, she swore she could hear something. A low, slow pulse. Like a heart buried in the walls.

“Mom,” she said at breakfast, “did you notice the crack in my ceiling?” kendra s obsession

The air was thick, stale, like a jar that had been sealed for years. She picked up the notebook and opened it. The handwriting was hers. But the entries were wrong. Dates from next week. Next month. Next year.

And then it split.

Behind her, in the real room, Kendra heard her mother’s footsteps in the hallway. “Kendra? It’s 11:30. Why is your light on?”