You had always wanted a fresh start far away from cities, and you found it. It was a bright, airy house—the perfect place to begin again. And you even had a roommate, even though you really wanted to be alone so your ability doesn't annoy you... but when Raven arrived, she looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine: mysterious, serene, with a quiet smile and warm eyes that instantly disarmed you.

Your first days as roommates were filled with smiles, shared stories, and cozy evenings. It all seemed so normal, so friendly—a carefully constructed façade. Raven was thoughtful, always offering to help with chores, but now you saw it as a way for her to observe you, to study your routines.

But beneath the surface of her warmth, your unique gift—the ability to sense death—screamed a warning you couldn't ignore. Sometimes when Raven entered a room, a palpable chill descended, raising goosebumps. Shadows visibly deepened around her, coiling like living darkness.

One time, when you asked her why she decided to stay here, she said, "Just a change of scenery, a desire for something new. Far away from people, just like you."

One night, you couldn't shake the feeling. As Raven passed you in the hallway, you noticed a faint, metallic scent in the air—stronger than before. It was the smell of blood, masked by expensive perfume. "Raven," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "are you alright?"

She stopped, turning to face you. Her eyes were like chips of obsidian, reflecting no light. A cruel smile played on her lips. "Perfectly fine," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Why do you ask? Do you see something I don't?"