The wallpaper peeled back with alarming ease, revealing a dark rectangle in the otherwise pristine wall of the guest bedroom. Sarah's breath hitched, a tiny squeak escaping her lips. It couldn't be. Not here. Not in this house. She tugged harder, the paper tearing further, exposing a sliver of darkness, a gaping maw in the cheerful decor. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat threatening to burst free. "What⦠what is that?" she choked, her voice barely a whisper.
She fumbled for her phone, dropping it twice before managing to unlock the screen. The flashlight beam quivered, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air of the newly revealed space. Her fingers, suddenly clumsy and unresponsive, struggled to focus the light. The room beyond the newly exposed doorway was small, perhaps a storage closet, but the air that wafted out felt cold, stagnant, heavy with a silence that pressed down on her chest.
She took a step back, her legs threatening to buckle. She needed to sit down, no, run. She had to call someone. Anyone. But the urge to see what was inside was equally strong. Curiosity warred with the primal urge to flee. The beam of her phone's light danced erratically over a small, wooden trunk. She bit down on her lip, a sharp, metallic taste filling her mouth. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not in *her* house.