Strange noises drift down from upstairs as I waddle toward the loft, the unsettling rustling drawing me closer despite the dread curling in my stomach. The bed, usually smooth and inviting, looks oddly lumpy, like something—or someone—is hiding beneath the sheets. My heart pounds as I approach, my fingers trembling as they reach for the blanket. But before I can pull it back, a vicious roar rips through the silence, and in a heartbeat, I’m yanked under the covers. The air grows thick with the scent of sweat and fear as I thrash and struggle, my world reduced to darkness and frantic motion. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the fight stops. The thing that dragged me under rises from the bed, wearing my skin like a grotesque disguise.
