First timer

Previously

…“It wants to break you,” her words seemed to whisper from the page. “It wants to make you like me. Lost. Forever.” The house was no longer just a place. It was a trap. And the Presence, now fully aware of my awareness, had made its intentions terrifyingly clear. It wasn’t just haunting the house; it was haunting me. And it wouldn’t stop until it had consumed me, just as it had consumed Eleanor, just as it had consumed all those before her. The cycle was about to repeat, and I was its unwilling participant. The question was, could I break it, or would I become just another whisper in the walls?