CHAPTER 2- WHISPERS AND SECRETS

Slowly, the changes started. David had always been somewhat different from others in that he was prone to wandering and losing himself in his world, so Eva initially assumed it was simply David being David. However, this felt... odd. She would occasionally catch him perched on the edges of his bed, gazing into the wall, and his lips moving inaudibly as though he were speaking to someone he alone could see.

One morning, while waiting in the doorway of his room, she cried out, "David?" "My dear, who are you speaking to?"

David remained silent. He continued to speak beneath his breath, his mouth quivering slightly, a peculiar, rhythmic whisper that made Eva shudder. The manner he spoke, as if his voice didn't belong to him, was more important than the words, that she couldn't make out.

Eva crouched in front of him as she crossed the room. She put her hand lightly on his knee and said, "David." "Can you hear me, honey?"

At last, David glanced at her, but it was a weird, aloof gaze, like an expression that didn't quite match his face. His eyes were excessively dark for a time, his pupils glimmering and wide as though they had absorbed all of the room's light.

David said, "I know who you are," in a low, flat voice that was too low for an eleven-year-old boy.

 Eva's hand on his knee froze. "What were you saying?"

 An odd, knowing smile came on David's face. "I can reveal her true identity to you."

 A knot of coldness tightened in Eva's stomach. As though burnt, she withdrew her fingers, but David just blinked and cocked his head, imagining the moment passing by like a dream.

 "What's the matter, Mom?" His voice was bright and carefree again as he asked, as though nothing odd had happened.

Then the murmurs became more intense. He was conversing in his room at night, and Eva could hear it coming through the walls. It was a quiet, private conversation, like one between old friends. She occasionally put her ears to the doorstep, but she was never able to hear the other voice. Low and conspiratorial, only David's.

 David withdrew and stayed in his room more and more, as though the mansion had encircled him. He seemed like a different youngster when he talked to his siblings; his comments were too scathing and perceptive.

"Why do you talk to yourself all the time?" One evening while eating dinner and prodding at his mashed potatoes, Simon asked.

Without raising his eyes from his plate, David shrugged. "I am not conversing with myself. He is genuine. He's barely out of sight.

Lily thought it was a game and giggled. However, Ethan's expression clouded.

"David, no one is there. You're inventing it.

David smiled slightly, in private, and resumed his meal. They wouldn't believe him, he knew. He had been cautioned by the figure that "they'll say you're crazy." But don't you know the truth? I am your friend.

 He was believed by David. The apparition said to him things that should only be known by his mother: how she used to braid Lily's hair before school, how she used to sing melodies to him when he had recurring nightmares, and even the precise words of her prayer at night when she believed no one was listening.

"How are these things known to you?" Once, David had inquired, his voice hardly audible through the covers.

The voice of the figure was silky soft. "I am well aware of her. Simply wait. I will show you further.

In the meantime, eager to get used to their new life, Eva made an effort to make acquaintances in the town. Sometimes the residence felt too huge and empty, and she reasoned that she might be able to get rid of the weird sensation that had descended on her if she filled her days with coffee dates and friendly visits.

 She started hanging out with one of the friendlier neighbors, a woman named Martha. Martha knew everyone in the community because she had grown up there. She would talk about the townspeople, their secrets, and scandals, over tea cups at Eva's kitchen table, but she never mentioned the house.

Eva finally put pressure on her one wet afternoon.

She leaned slightly forward and said, "Martha." "Are you familiar with the previous residents of this area?"

 For a brief while, Martha's happy face wavered. "Well, I guess we had a few families. Primarily mothers with kids.

"What made them depart?" Eva inquired.

Martha laughed uneasily. "They didn't stay long." She looked out the window as though she thought someone might be looking. "People claim that the house alters them. However, I wouldn't give it much thought. Only old tales.

Eva forced a grin despite a stab of uneasiness. "What are the stories about?"

 Martha lowered her voice to a whisper and shook her head. In that home, mothers don't do well. That's all I have to say. She gathered her coat and stood up suddenly. "It's best to keep it to yourself."

 Long after Martha had departed, Eva sat on the table with her tea cold between her hands. There was something about the discourse that weighed heavily on her.

David awoke the following morning feeling oddly excited, as though something was awaiting him. He got out of bed and walked to the window, where another dead blackbird was sitting, as previously, on the sill.

Its feathers were slippery with dew, its glass-black eyeballs seemed to sparkle in the morning's bright light, and it was bigger than the previous one. A beat skipped in David's heart.

He approached the window without hesitation and took the bird in his hands, holding it like a delicate present.

This time, the hunger struck immediately—a raging, ravenous need that swept him like wildfire. His hands shook as he brought the bird to his lips and bit into the icy flesh with an odd, desperate urgency. The feathers were stuck to the tip of his tongue, but he continued to chew mechanically until nothing remained, and when it was finished, he laughed gently to himself, feeling extremely full and content. "Good boy. I'm close now," he whispered.

Eva changed that night.

It began with little things, like pausing indoors for too long and looking blankly and strangely at nothing. However, the actions soon got more concerning.

 One night, when the kids woke up, their mother was standing in the hallway, motionless, her eyes wide, her face pale, as though she was listening to something that only she could hear. She remained silent. For hours, she simply stood there, casting a long, thin shadow on the wall.

 When he crept out of sleep to use the restroom, Ethan became the first to discover her. His heart pounded as he saw her position there, motionless.

 He moved closer, whispering, "Mom?"

Eva, however, did not respond. As if she didn't even recognize him, she simply looked straight ahead. She breathed shallowly, slowly, almost mechanically.

 Eva didn't remember standing in the corridor in the morning. Ethan tried to explain what he had seen to her, but she dismissed his worries with a simple smile. She remarked, "I must have been sleepwalking."

 The kids, however, were wiser. Their mother was going through a horrible, invisible ordeal.

 Furthermore, it was only becoming worse.