Claire stood at the gate, staring at the weathered facade of the house. Its windows, like hollow eyes, seemed to watch her. "It's just an old house," she whispered to herself, trying to mask the unease gnawing at her.

Claire moved through the hallway, her flashlight's beam slicing through the darkness. The walls were lined with faded portraits, their subjects staring out with eyes that seemed to follow her. "Just pictures, nothing more," she muttered, her voice echoing softly.

Claire approached the mirror, drawn to it despite the chill creeping up her spine. As she leaned in, her reflection stared back with a grin that was not her own. Her heart skipped a beat, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Claire backed away, her eyes darting to the mirror. The reflection now showed a shadowy figure looming behind her, its presence palpable and threatening. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice trembling.

The figure in the mirror leaned closer, its features obscured by darkness. "You’re not leaving," it murmured, each word a chilling promise. Fear clawed at Claire's throat, her scream stifled by the oppressive air.

Claire felt the world spin, her vision narrowing to a pinpoint. The last sound she heard was the creaking of the floorboards, as though the house itself was breathing her in. Then, silence.