The Corrupted Calm.
The nights seemed to stretch on, each one blending into the next. The stillness of the church, once comforting in its solitude, now felt heavy, like something unseen was always lurking in the shadows. Harry lay in his bed, his eyes wide open in the dark, listening to the familiar clicking of footsteps in the hallway.
It had been weeks since he returned, and though the dread of facing her hadn’t completely disappeared, Harry had noticed something strange. The fear he’d once felt had started to settle into him, like an old wound that no longer stung, but had become a part of him. The fear didn’t grip him the same way it used to.
He still feared her. The nun, as he had come to call her, haunted him every night. But tonight... tonight felt different. It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid anymore—he still was—but the terror that once gripped his chest had started to lose its power. She had been around for so long now, and he was beginning to get used to her presence. He wasn’t sure how, but something inside him had changed. He could feel it in the way his heart raced, but also in how he fought to keep himself from completely unraveling.
The clicking came closer, echoing down the dim hallway, and then the door to his room creaked open. A sliver of moonlight spilled in, casting long shadows across the floor. Harry didn’t flinch this time. He didn’t turn away.
There she was, standing in the doorway, the same dark figure he had come to dread. The nun. She was tall and imposing, her presence looming like a dark storm. Her eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, locked onto his. Her silhouette stretched across the room, like a shadow that had grown too long.
Harry didn’t look away. The fear was still there, but it didn’t feel as sharp. It was more like a dull ache that lingered in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his fists, but he didn’t flinch. He was tired of feeling like a victim. He was tired of hiding from her.
"What do you want?" Harry whispered, his voice shaky but steady. His breath quickened, but he kept his gaze fixed on her, refusing to let her break him. He didn’t know who or what she was, but he knew one thing for sure—she wouldn’t win. Not this time.
The nun didn’t move. She didn’t speak. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, but Harry didn’t let it consume him. He held her gaze, his fingers still gripping the edge of the bed, his heart pounding in his chest.
"What are you called?" Harry asked, his voice just barely above a whisper, but the words felt almost defiant. He didn’t know what else to ask. The question had been bothering him for days now. He needed something, anything. Something to make sense of this nightmare.
She didn’t answer. As always, there was nothing but the oppressive silence. Harry’s breath hitched as he waited for her to speak, to do something—anything—but she remained as still and unmoving as ever. Her eyes never left his.
The presence in the room was suffocating, but Harry didn’t look away. He was terrified, yes, but he wasn’t going to show it. Not like before. Not again.
Her gaze felt like a weight pressing down on him, pulling him in. Harry couldn’t explain it, but there was something familiar about her, something that went beyond the fear. He wanted to scream at her to go away, to leave him alone, but his voice was caught in his throat.
Minutes passed. He didn’t know how long he had been staring at her, but it felt like hours. The darkness around her seemed to stretch, consuming everything in its path. Harry’s heart pounded harder, but he refused to let his fear control him.
Finally, the nun moved. She took one slow, deliberate step toward the door. The shadows clung to her like a dark cloud, and Harry felt an icy chill creep into his bones as she passed. For a moment, Harry thought she was leaving.
But then, just before she vanished into the hallway, she paused, her back to him. Harry’s heart raced in his chest, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but nothing came out.
"What do you want from me?"he asked, his voice barely more than a breath. He wasn’t sure why he asked, but something inside him demanded the answer. She couldn’t leave him in the dark forever.
There was no response. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t speak.
The door creaked softly as it closed behind her, and the room fell silent. The presence lingered for a moment longer, and Harry could still feel her watching him, even though she was no longer there.
His breath was still quick and shallow, but the fear didn’t feel as overpowering anymore. It was there, yes. But it wasn’t controlling him.
Harry sank back into his pillows, his mind racing. He didn’t know what she was, or why she kept coming, but he was beginning to understand something. This—whatever this was—wasn’t just happening to him. It was happening because of him. He didn’t know how or why, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt like this darkness, this nun, was tied to him in some way.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt the tiniest flicker of control. The fear was still there, but it was no longer paralyzing. He had lived with it for so long. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this too.