When Rizal arrived at the Tan family’s house, he was immediately struck by the silence. It was absolute—no hum of the refrigerator, no creak of the house settling, no laughter or chatter. The only sound was his own footsteps on the wooden floor as he walked into the living room.

Aisha lay in her bed, motionless, her wide eyes staring at the ceiling, unblinking. Her parents hovered nearby, speaking in hushed tones, their faces pale with fear. Her mother’s voice quivered as she explained, “She won’t respond. It’s as if she’s not here anymore. But... she’s still breathing.”

Rizal’s instincts told him something was wrong—deeply wrong. There was a strange tension in the room, like the air had thickened to the point where it was hard to breathe. He leaned over Aisha, looking into her glassy eyes. There was no recognition in them, no awareness. She seemed... trapped. But what was trapping her?

Suddenly, Aisha’s head twitched, and her lips parted. For a moment, Rizal thought she was going to speak, but instead, a soft, guttural whisper escaped her mouth. It was unintelligible, yet its presence in the room felt like an icy finger running down his spine. Rizal recoiled instinctively. The room felt colder, heavier.

Aisha’s mother gasped, her voice trembling. “She wasn’t saying that before. What... what was that?”

Before Rizal could respond, the door slammed shut, and the room was plunged into an even deeper silence. The pressure in the air intensified, as though something was pushing against them from all directions.