One of the first things I noticed was how strange the atmosphere was around the house. The security guards were always on edge, almost hyper-aware, like they were expecting something to happen at any moment. The rest of the staff was no different—everyone moved carefully, almost as if they were walking on eggshells. And the house had rules—strict ones. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t poke around. Whatever your job was, you stuck to it. You didn’t look for answers you weren’t supposed to find.

Later that night, I woke up to a sound I’ll never forget—a faint scream. It was muffled, but I knew immediately that it was a human scream. I stood frozen for a moment, trying to convince myself that I was imagining it. But then I heard it again, clearer and louder this time. The sound was full of pain, full of desperation. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but it felt like my entire body went cold. I could barely move. I rushed back to my room and locked the door, shaking uncontrollably. That night, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard.