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Harper’s hands.

The shed walls breathing with their screams.

The silence that followed, thick as blood.

I did everything right.

Didn’t I?

Didn’t I?

Then I see him.

My father.

In my mind. On my skin. Everywhere.

His eyes watching me, bright and sharp, his mouth twitching like he’s proud.

You made me! I want to scream.

You built this.

This rage, this rot, this thing inside me.

But instead, I just whisper, “Damn you.”

Again.

And again.

Until it’s just breath, nothing else.

And then: a whisper behind me.

Not real.

But real enough.

“That’s my girl.”

I claw at my scalp, digging in like I can peel the voice out. But it’s deeper than that. It’s in me.

I slam the back of my skull against the wall, just once.

Just to see if I can knock something loose.

I press myself there, breathing hard, sweat crawling down my spine even though the floor is ice.

And then, something moves in the corner.

A shape.

A figure.

Kerr?

No, his face is wrong. Split. Wet. His mouth hanging open, swollen and full of rot.