Almost mercifully, there was no answer. Almost.

The silence seemed to permeate the room like a thick cloud of noxious miasma, making every breath painful.

It’s all in your -

Her frayed, tattered nerves did not help when a creaking resounded from behind her. Before Anita could turn around, she heard something else: a cough.

But it was no ordinary cough, like the one a normal person does to clear their throat.

It was a harsh, rasping sound, gurgling resignedly with what seemed to be phlegm. Anita felt a chill rush down her spine, freezing her in her heavy winter clothes.

The door opposite her was slightly ajar, and the ‘wind’ pushed it open, revealing a frail, white figure.

A little boy stood in the doorway, face pallid and drawn, like one that housed a fever in their body.

Anita didn’t even think.

She bolted out of the room, not caring that her steps now sounded like the beating of a drum. Anita could only hear the beat of her own drum – her heart.

As she ran, she made a vow.

No more dares.