Was there a pattern to it? She couldn’t detect any. The taps came in even intervals, and there were no differences in their length or volume. The sound was metronomic in its constancy, and the fact that she couldn’t readily identify its source contributed to Jen’s unease.

What was in there?

Gathering her courage, she knocked on the door, a light polite rap.

The noise on the other side stopped, replaced by a less mechanical, more biological sound that almost reminded her of a laugh.

It sounded once, then all was silent. But that once was enough. She ran back into the bedroom, slamming shut the door and screaming as she leaped on the bed and hid her head under the covers like a child.

She heard the toilet flush, its sound muffled by the blanket, and seconds later, Lane burst into the room. “What is it? What’s going on?”

She threw off the blanket and practically jumped into his arms.

He seemed confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t live like this!” She was practically sobbing.

“Like what? What are you talking about?”

“That noise!” She pointed to the wall that separated them from The Room. “Didn’t you hear it?”

He nodded. “I admit, it’s annoying…”

“Annoying? What the hell is it? There’s a room in our house that we can’t go in, and something’s living in there! Something that knocks on the wall or the floor or the ceiling or whatever furniture is in there with it.” She pulled away from him, looking frantically into his eyes. “I knocked on the door, and the sound stopped, and something laughed! Laughed!” She shivered. “We can’t live like this! I can’t live like this!”

“What do you want to do?” he asked her. “Give up our home? Because that’s the only other choice.”

“I could. Easily. Because it’s not my home. It’s not our home. We haven’t settled in here. We haven’t even finished unpacking! Most of our boxes are still in the garage.”

“What are you saying?”

“We sell it. We put it on the market, recoup our loss and look for someplace else.”

“That’s crazy. We haven’t even made our first payment yet.”

She looked at him levelly. “I’m not living in a house where I can’t go into one of my own rooms, a room that has some sort of thing in it. I mean, Jesus, there could be a…a mental patient tied up in there, or a wild animal, or—”

“A monster?”

“See? You’re thinking it, too!” She put her arms around him, felt the tension in his muscles. “This isn’t normal, this isn’t right, and I’m not living like this, afraid of my own house.”