Blair Bathory

The house itself felt alive, like it was hiding something just out of view, something that didn't want us there. We went back to my aunt's apartment, both of us in silence, the weight of the discovery hanging over us like a storm cloud. When we walked in, it felt different. The apartment seemed quieter, colder. It was as if the walls had changed.

The house itself felt alive, like it was hiding something just out of view, something that didn't want us there. We went back to my aunt's apartment, both of us in silence, the weight of the discovery hanging over us like a storm cloud. When we walked in, it felt different. The apartment seemed quieter, colder. It was as if the walls had changed.

The house itself felt alive, like it was hiding something just out of view, something that didn't want us there. We went back to my aunt's apartment, both of us in silence, the weight of the discovery hanging over us like a storm cloud. When we walked in, it felt different. The apartment seemed quieter, colder. It was as if the walls had changed.

They seemed to close in on us, as though they were watching, waiting. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I looked around at my aunt, who was sitting on the couch, her face pale. She seemed off, disconnected. She had been distant ever since we came back from the flower shop, as though she wasn't quite there. It was like she was somewhere else, staring at the walls, at nothing.

They seemed to close in on us, as though they were watching, waiting. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I looked around at my aunt, who was sitting on the couch, her face pale. She seemed off, disconnected. She had been distant ever since we came back from the flower shop, as though she wasn't quite there. It was like she was somewhere else, staring at the walls, at nothing.

They seemed to close in on us, as though they were watching, waiting. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I looked around at my aunt, who was sitting on the couch, her face pale. She seemed off, disconnected. She had been distant ever since we came back from the flower shop, as though she wasn't quite there. It was like she was somewhere else, staring at the walls, at nothing.

I wondered if she felt it too, the pressure, the suffocation. Then my cousin spoke up. He'd been quiet up until that point. You didn't see it, did you? He said, his voice barely a whisper. I turned to him, confused. See what? He stood up and walked over to the window, his back to mine. The flowers weren't from the shop, he said slowly. The shop hasn't been open for years.

I wondered if she felt it too, the pressure, the suffocation. Then my cousin spoke up. He'd been quiet up until that point. You didn't see it, did you? He said, his voice barely a whisper. I turned to him, confused. See what? He stood up and walked over to the window, his back to mine. The flowers weren't from the shop, he said slowly. The shop hasn't been open for years.

I wondered if she felt it too, the pressure, the suffocation. Then my cousin spoke up. He'd been quiet up until that point. You didn't see it, did you? He said, his voice barely a whisper. I turned to him, confused. See what? He stood up and walked over to the window, his back to mine. The flowers weren't from the shop, he said slowly. The shop hasn't been open for years.

Yeah, but the flowers, they weren't just left there. They were placed there. I frowned. "'What are you talking about?' He turned around and looked at me, his eyes wide with something like dread. When we were at the shop, I asked the owner about the flowers. He said he remembers them vividly. They were the last bouquet he ever sold before the shop closed.

Yeah, but the flowers, they weren't just left there. They were placed there. I frowned. "'What are you talking about?' He turned around and looked at me, his eyes wide with something like dread. When we were at the shop, I asked the owner about the flowers. He said he remembers them vividly. They were the last bouquet he ever sold before the shop closed.

Yeah, but the flowers, they weren't just left there. They were placed there. I frowned. "'What are you talking about?' He turned around and looked at me, his eyes wide with something like dread. When we were at the shop, I asked the owner about the flowers. He said he remembers them vividly. They were the last bouquet he ever sold before the shop closed.

He thought it was strange, but he never sold them to anyone. My blood ran cold. There was no way my aunt could have gotten those flowers unless... unless they had been sent by someone who had no business doing so.'" Someone who had been in that apartment before her. Someone who had been there long before she ever thought to move in. And I realized then, it wasn't just the flowers.

He thought it was strange, but he never sold them to anyone. My blood ran cold. There was no way my aunt could have gotten those flowers unless... unless they had been sent by someone who had no business doing so.'" Someone who had been in that apartment before her. Someone who had been there long before she ever thought to move in. And I realized then, it wasn't just the flowers.

He thought it was strange, but he never sold them to anyone. My blood ran cold. There was no way my aunt could have gotten those flowers unless... unless they had been sent by someone who had no business doing so.'" Someone who had been in that apartment before her. Someone who had been there long before she ever thought to move in. And I realized then, it wasn't just the flowers.

It was the apartment itself. It had been waiting for her, waiting for someone. And whoever sent those flowers hadn't just wanted to leave a gift. They wanted her there. They needed her there. But for what? I didn't know. and I don't think I ever will fully understand. What happened that day, what we learned, was only the beginning of a much deeper mystery.

It was the apartment itself. It had been waiting for her, waiting for someone. And whoever sent those flowers hadn't just wanted to leave a gift. They wanted her there. They needed her there. But for what? I didn't know. and I don't think I ever will fully understand. What happened that day, what we learned, was only the beginning of a much deeper mystery.

It was the apartment itself. It had been waiting for her, waiting for someone. And whoever sent those flowers hadn't just wanted to leave a gift. They wanted her there. They needed her there. But for what? I didn't know. and I don't think I ever will fully understand. What happened that day, what we learned, was only the beginning of a much deeper mystery.

One that feels like it's still alive in the apartment, still watching, waiting. And it's been years, but sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still feel it. The eyes of whatever or whoever is inside those walls, watching, always watching. What would you do if you found out that something had been waiting for you long before you ever moved in?

One that feels like it's still alive in the apartment, still watching, waiting. And it's been years, but sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still feel it. The eyes of whatever or whoever is inside those walls, watching, always watching. What would you do if you found out that something had been waiting for you long before you ever moved in?