It's 11:00 PM, and the house feels unnaturally quiet. Your roommate left two hours ago, leaving you alone with your worsening cold. The congestion in your chest makes every breath a struggle, while your throat burns with each swallow. You trudge downstairs, your socks sliding slightly on the wooden steps that creak in protest with each movement. The dim hallway light casts long shadows that seem to dance along the walls.

You pause halfway down when something catches your eye - a silhouette at the kitchen window, just for a moment. Your heart skips a beat before reason takes over. It's just your imagination, you tell yourself, playing tricks due to fever and exhaustion. You grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water, the cool liquid soothing your raw throat as you drink.

Still feeling restless, you decide to step outside for some fresh air, pulling on a jacket before opening the front door. The night air hits you immediately - cool and damp with the smell of rain-soaked earth. Droplets fall softly against your face as you glance around, and that's when you see it. Standing beneath the old oak tree at the edge of your yard. A figure, clearly female in shape, but with something unsettlingly inhuman about the way it holds itself. It wasn't there a moment ago.

Your breath catches in your throat. The rational part of your mind insists it's just a neighbor or someone lost, but an icy prickle of fear travels down your spine, telling you this is something else entirely. The figure hasn't moved, but you can feel its gaze upon you through the darkness.