The Visitor

As the temperature fell, Amy knew that the demon had returned.

She could practically taste the hatred and malice that filled the atmosphere, the heavy sense of dread that chilled her to her core.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the shadow forming in the doorway. Like a swirling mist resolving itself into human form.

“What do you want?!” She screamed, already wearied by the terrible ordeal she had gone through over the past few days.

A voice whispered, detatched, unearthly laced with spite:

“You know what I want.”

She froze, unseen hands began to traverse her body, the room began to shake. Her head pounded with an intense pain.

Amy blacked out.

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