Chapter 6 New home

For a moment before it turned and disappeared into the forest.

"Mom, it was a wolf!" I repeated, louder this time as if she didn't see it.

"Yes, Mia," she said, her voice unsettlingly steady. "You'll see more of them. This is a wolf town."

I didn't know what scared me more-her calmness or the fact that she was probably right.

Mom's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't look at me, her eyes fixed on the road.

My stomach flipped. "What do you mean, I'll see more of them? What's going on?"

She didn't answer. I opened my mouth to press her, but something in her expression stopped me. I slumped back in my seat, staring out the window as the trees blurred past.

What was going on? Was this all connected-the wolf, what happened with Alexa, my birthday? Maya? Was I just being paranoid, or was there something my mom wasn't telling me?

The air grew colder as we drove into Oakwood. I don't know what I was expecting-maybe something normal, like rows of cute little houses or maybe a cozy main street. But Oakwood wasn't normal.

The mist was the first thing I noticed. It clung to the ground like it didn't want to let go, swirling around the tires as we drove through. The houses were close together, all dark and shadowy like they were keeping secrets.

Then we pulled up to a house at the very end of the road. It was big. Old. The kind of place you see in creepy movies where bad things happen. The other houses were bunched together, but this one stood alone, separated by a long gravel driveway and a wild, overgrown yard.

Mom parked the car and turned off the engine. For a moment, we just sat there in the dark, staring at the house.

"This is it," she said.

I frowned. "This is what?"

"Home."

I didn't move. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not. Get down, Mia."

She climbed out, grabbing the box she'd brought from the house. I stayed put, staring up at the mansion. The windows were fogged with grime, and the front door looked like it hadn't been opened in years. The yard was a mess, weeds growing tall and wild like nature had decided to reclaim the place.

My chest tightened. I wasn't sure if it was nerves or... something else. The house gave me a strange feeling like it was watching me.

Mom's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Mia! Let's go."

Reluctantly, I opened the door and stepped out. The gravel crunched under my boots as I followed her to the front door. She set the box down on the porch and dug through it until she pulled out a ring of keys.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" I asked, my voice shaky.

She didn't look at me. She slid a key into the lock and turned it, the sound echoing in the silence.

Then she finally looked at me, her eyes softening for just a moment. "Yes, Mia. This is the right place. Welcome home."

She pushed the door open, and the smell of dust and age spilled out. I stepped inside, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.

The house was dark, the air thick with the smell of dust and decay. My mom flicked on a flashlight, the beam slicing through the shadows. "We can't do much tonight," she said, her voice echoing in the space. "Let's just get some rest. We'll start cleaning in the morning."

I nodded, too exhausted to argue. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out two duvets. One she spread on the worn-out sofa in the corner of the living room, the other she handed to me. "Here," she said, patting the surface of the large pillow she'd laid on the floor.

I lay down, staring at the cracked ceiling. The house felt wrong like it was alive and watching us. I shivered, pulling the duvet tighter around me. My mom stretched out on the sofa, her back to me.

"Goodnight, Mia," she murmured.

"Goodnight," I whispered, though sleep felt like a distant possibility.

The Next Morning

I woke to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. Blinking, I sat up, disoriented for a moment before the events of yesterday came flooding back.

The light streaming through the cracks in the old curtains did little to brighten the room, but at least it didn't feel as eerie as it had last night.

My mom was already awake, standing by the window and sipping a cup of coffee she must've brewed in the ancient kitchen. She glanced at me and gestured toward the stairs. "Go get your luggage and take it upstairs.

I'll show you your roI followed her up the creaking staircase, the wood groaning under our weight. At the top, she gestured to three doors. "There are three bedrooms up here," she said.

That one was your dad's," she pointed to the door at the far end of the hall, "and this one," her hand moved to the door on the left, "was mine." She hesitated before looking at me. "I used to sleep in your dad's room most of the time."

Her voice wavered slightly, but she quickly turned to the last door. "And this one is yours.

I frowned. She rarely spoke about my dad, and I'd learned not to press her. Instead, I followed her into the room she'd said was mine.

The door creaked open, and I froze. It was like stepping into a memory I didn't have. The room felt untouched, as though it had been waiting for me.

The bed, though old, was sturdy and big enough to hold me. The design was childish-pastel sheets and a worn stuffed animal sitting in the corner-but everything seemed frozen in time.

A spacious wardrobe stood near the window, and light spilled through, offering a view of the entire town.

I placed my bag down beside the wardrobe and got to work cleaning the room. The air felt thick and heavy, the dust clinging to every surface.

To keep myself focused, I slipped on my headphones and connected them to my phone, letting the music drown out the oppressive silence of the house.

Time passed in a blur as I cleaned, scrubbing away the years of neglect. But then, out of nowhere, I felt it.

That prickle at the back of my neck.

Someone was watching me.

I froze, my heart thudding in my chest as I turned toward the window. My breath caught as my eyes landed on it.

There.

Someone-or something-had been sitting on the windowsill, staring at me. I was sure of it. But the moment I turned, all I caught was a flash, a fleeting movement that vanished in an instant.

Panic surged through me. I yanked my headphones off and ran to the window, my footsteps loud in the stillness of the room. Pressing my hands against the cold glass, I looked down into the yard below.

Nothing.

The grass swayed gently in the early morning breeze, undisturbed. The shadows stretched long and eerie, but there was no one. It was as though whoever-or whatever-I'd seen had disappeared into thin air.