Night 2 was supposed to be a quiet, relaxing evening for Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley, and Eddie's son, Christopher Diaz. After a long day of unpacking and trying to settle into their new home in Columbus, Indiana, they were ready to wind down. The strange noises from the garage earlier had been unsettling, but Eddie had managed to push those thoughts aside. For now, they were focusing on making the house feel like home.
As the evening wore on, Eddie and Christopher sat together on the couch in the living room, watching "Horton Hears a Who!". It was Christopher's choice for the night, and Eddie was happy to indulge him. The animated movie provided a temporary distraction from the uneasy feeling that had been growing in the back of Eddie's mind. Buck, meanwhile, had retreated to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping the hot water would help him relax.
For a moment, everything seemed normal.
But as the movie played, something strange happened. Amidst the cheerful sounds of the film, both Eddie and Christopher heard a disembodied voice, deep and raspy, echo through the living room. It sounded like a man calling Eddie's name, but the voice was faint and distant, like it was coming from the walls themselves.
Eddie froze, his body tensing as his eyes flicked toward the hallway. The voice had been unmistakable, and for a brief second, he thought it was Buck.
"Did you hear that?" Eddie asked, his voice hushed.
Christopher, wide-eyed, nodded slowly. "Yeah, Dad... I did. Was that Buck?"
Eddie stood up from the couch, his heart pounding. "Stay here, okay? I'll go check."
He walked toward the bathroom where Buck was still showering, the sound of running water filling the hallway. Eddie knocked on the bathroom door, trying to keep his voice steady. "Buck? Did you call me?"
The water shut off, and a few moments later, Buck opened the door, towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still dripping. "What? No, I didn't call you. Why?"
Eddie frowned, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Christopher and I just heard a voice. It sounded like someone was calling my name."
Buck's face shifted into a concerned frown. "I didn't say anything, Eddie. Maybe it was just the house... you know, settling."
Eddie glanced down the hallway, the shadows seeming darker than usual. "Maybe."
But deep down, neither of them believed it. The house had been giving off strange vibes since they'd arrived, and now, with this voice... Eddie wasn't sure what to make of it. He nodded, trying to shake off the unease. "Alright. Let's just get ready for bed."
After the unsettling event, the three of them prepared for bed, but there was an unspoken tension in the air. Christopher had already begun to grow anxious about sleeping in his new room. The house was unfamiliar, and the feeling of being watched, which had started earlier in the day, had only grown stronger as the night crept in.
As Christopher lay in his bed, the room dark except for the faint glow of his nightlight, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was in the room with him. He felt the weight of eyes on him, watching him from the corners of the room where the shadows were deepest. His breathing quickened, and his heart pounded in his chest.
"Maybe it's just my imagination," Christopher whispered to himself, but the feeling of dread wouldn't leave him.
With trembling hands, he pulled the blanket over his head, cocooning himself in the fabric. He remembered something his dad had once told him when he was younger—that nothing could get you if you were under the blanket. It was silly, but right now, Christopher needed to feel safe.
The room was too quiet. The only sounds were his own breathing and the faint rustle of the blanket as he shifted. But even under the covers, the sensation of being watched persisted, gnawing at him, making the hairs on his arms stand up.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Buck had set up his bed for the night on the couch. Normally, he wouldn't mind crashing there—he'd done it plenty of times back in LA—but tonight felt different. The air in the house was colder than usual, even though he'd checked the thermostat earlier. Something felt off, like there was an invisible presence lingering just out of sight.
He lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the faint creaks and groans of the house. His mind raced back to the disembodied voice Eddie and Christopher had heard earlier. It hadn't been him. So who—or what—had called Eddie's name?
Buck shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "It's just the new house," he muttered to himself. "You're just tired, and it's messing with your head."
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them.
In the master bedroom, Eddie was having a hard time relaxing. He tossed and turned, pulling the blankets up to his chin, but sleep refused to come. His mind kept replaying the events of the day—the strange noises from the garage, the voice that had called his name, and the uncomfortable look on Christopher's face when he said goodnight.
A protective instinct rose in Eddie's chest. His son was in this house, alone in his room, and Eddie wasn't entirely convinced that they were the only ones here.
Just as Eddie's eyes began to flutter shut, a cold breeze swept through the room, making the curtains flutter. His heart leaped, and he sat up quickly, his eyes darting to the window. It was closed. There was no draft, no way for the air to move like that.
Eddie's pulse quickened, and he got out of bed, quietly walking to the window to check it. As he stood there, peering out into the dark yard beyond, the sensation of being watched overwhelmed him. It was like there was something just behind him, breathing down his neck.
He spun around, his heart pounding, but the room was empty.
Christopher remained hidden under his blanket, his heart racing as the feeling of being watched grew stronger. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the sensation would go away. And then, through the fabric of his blanket, he heard it—a faint, raspy breath, like someone standing right next to his bed.
Christopher's breath hitched in his throat, and he dared not move. His entire body was frozen in fear.
"Dad..." he whispered, but his voice was too soft to carry through the house.
He stayed like that, curled up under the blanket, trying to make himself as small as possible. It was just his imagination, he told himself. There was no one there. But the breath—it was so real, so close.
Back in the living room, Buck suddenly sat up, his eyes wide. A cold draft swept over him, and for a split second, he could've sworn he heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from Christopher's room.
"Eddie," Buck whispered into the dark, but his friend was already up, heading down the hall toward Christopher's room.
Eddie opened the door quietly, peeking inside. "Christopher? You okay, buddy?"
Christopher, still huddled under the blanket, pulled it down just enough to see his dad standing in the doorway. Relief flooded through him, and he nodded. "Yeah... I'm okay."
Eddie walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "You sure? You don't look okay."
Christopher hesitated before whispering, "I... I feel like someone's in here. Watching me."
Eddie's chest tightened, but he forced a reassuring smile. "There's no one here, buddy. It's just you and me—and Buck in the living room. You're safe."
Christopher looked up at his dad, his eyes wide. "But what if it's not just us?"
Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, glancing around the room before pulling the blanket back over Christopher's shoulders. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?"
Christopher nodded, his small body relaxing slightly under his dad's protective presence. Eddie stayed by his side, but his mind was racing. He could feel it too—the sense that something was wrong, that they weren't alone in this house.
The night stretched on, quiet but heavy with the unseen.
Something was watching. They all felt it.
And it wasn't going away.
