Amelia's body seized with a fear so deep, it paralyzed her. The voice—the one that had been calling her name—was now echoing within her mind, a cold, twisted presence that gnawed at her thoughts. Her limbs trembled, and her breath came in shallow, erratic bursts. She couldn't move, couldn't think. She was trapped, not just in the fog, but inside her own body.

"Amelia..."

The voice reverberated inside her skull, louder, more intimate, as if it was trying to take control. She pressed her hands to her ears, desperate to block it out, but there was no escaping it. It was inside her now, a part of her.

“Get out,” she whispered, her voice weak, barely audible in the oppressive silence. “Get out of my head…”

But the presence only grew stronger, more invasive. Memories flashed before her eyes—her childhood, her family, moments she had long forgotten. And then, twisted images that weren’t her own. Dark places, faces she had never seen, shadowy figures reaching for her in the void.

Suddenly, her body jerked forward on its own. Her legs began to move, but it wasn’t her controlling them. She was being dragged deeper into the fog, toward something unseen, something waiting for her. Her mind screamed for her to stop, to fight, but her body wouldn’t listen.

The graveyard stretched endlessly before her, the fog thickening with every step. Tombstones loomed on either side, their inscriptions barely visible through the mist. And then she saw it—a large, crumbling mausoleum at the edge of the cemetery, its iron gates hanging open, beckoning her inside.

Her legs carried her forward, her will powerless against the force driving her. The mausoleum's door creaked as she approached, the sound echoing in the unnatural stillness. The air grew colder, biting at her skin, and the whispers returned—faint at first, but quickly swelling into a cacophony of voices.

She was close now, the entrance looming in front of her like a dark mouth ready to swallow her whole. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she couldn’t stop. Her body moved with the unnatural force guiding her, dragging her toward the doorway.

As she crossed the threshold, the air inside the mausoleum turned frigid, and the whispers suddenly ceased. The silence was deafening. Inside, the walls were lined with crypts, each one sealed and forgotten. Dust and cobwebs clung to every surface, and the faint smell of decay lingered in the air.

In the center of the room, there was a stone coffin, its lid partially ajar. Something about it pulled at Amelia, something ancient and malevolent. The presence in her mind pushed her closer, urging her to approach. She didn’t want to—every fiber of her being screamed in terror—but she couldn’t resist.

Her hand moved on its own, reaching for the lid.

Just as her fingers brushed the cold stone, a deafening crash echoed through the mausoleum. The lid of the coffin slammed shut, and a gust of icy wind swept through the room, extinguishing the faint light that had filtered in from outside.

Amelia stumbled back, finally free of whatever force had been controlling her. Her body was her own again, but the terror remained. She backed away from the coffin, her eyes wide with horror, when she felt a hand—a real, tangible hand—grab her wrist from behind.

She whipped around, and there, standing in the doorway, was Sarah.

Her best friend, her anchor to reality. But something was wrong.

Sarah’s face was pale, her eyes wide and glassy. Her lips parted, but no words came out. And then, her mouth twisted into a grotesque smile.

“Amelia,” she whispered, her voice sounding off, like it didn’t belong to her. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Amelia’s heart sank. This wasn’t Sarah. It was using her, just like it had tried to use Amelia. Her best friend’s body was nothing more than a puppet, controlled by the same malevolent force.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Sarah said, her smile stretching unnaturally wide. Her eyes locked onto Amelia’s with a predatory hunger. “Now, we can be together… forever.”

Amelia stumbled back, her pulse racing. She had to get out, had to escape this nightmare. But as she turned to run, the mausoleum’s doors slammed shut with a deafening bang, trapping her inside.

Sarah—or the thing controlling her—began to advance, her movements slow and deliberate. “You can’t run, Amelia. This place… it’s part of you now. Just like me.”

Amelia’s back hit the stone wall, her mind racing, searching for any way out. The whispers had returned, louder than ever, filling the room, filling her head. They swirled around her, growing louder, more oppressive.

Suddenly, a deep, guttural voice cut through the chaos.

“You belong to the fog.”

The fog swirled inside the mausoleum now, seeping in through cracks in the walls, curling around Sarah's body like a living thing. Her smile twisted into something monstrous, her eyes glowing with a sickly yellow light.

Amelia's vision blurred, her body weakening under the weight of the whispers, the presence. She collapsed to her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

The fog was closing in, tighter, suffocating, until all she could see was darkness.

Then, from the depths of that darkness, a voice—her own—echoed softly.

"Run..."

With the last of her strength, Amelia surged to her feet and bolted toward the sealed doors, slamming her fists against the cold metal. The whispers screamed in her ears, but she ignored them. She had to escape. She had to—

The door swung open.

Amelia staggered into the night, the fog swirling around her like a living creature, but she was free.

Or so she thought.

Behind her, a single whisper echoed through the mist.

"You can never leave."