The House That Knew My Name

When Marrow and Eli move into an old duplex, they expect the usual creaks and quirks of a new home. But this house listens. It notices. It remembers.
At first, the signs are subtle: footsteps that don't belong, whispers behind closed doors, and mirrors that reflect more than just their faces. Then the house begins to speak-or at least, to address Marrow by name. And when a Polaroid appears, showing the future instead of the present, the line between the living and the house blurs.
As the walls tighten around them, Marrow must decide how far she will go to escape-or whether the house has already decided they belong there forever.
A psychological, slow-burning horror about memory, identity, and the terrifying intelligence of a home that's more alive than it should be.