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The voices started whispering to Mary from the moment she moved into her new house. She thought it was just her imagination, a side effect of the stress from moving to a new city. But the whispers persisted, growing louder and more insistent as the days went on.

At first, Mary tried to ignore them, but they were impossible to tune out. They spoke to her when she was alone in the house, in the middle of the night when she was trying to sleep, and even when she was out running errands. The voices were everywhere, and they wouldn't stop.

As the weeks went by, the whispers grew more sinister. They told Mary to do things, things that she knew were wrong but couldn't resist. They urged her to hurt herself, to hurt others, to burn the house down. Mary was terrified, but she couldn't escape their hold.

One night, as Mary lay in bed, the voices grew louder than ever before. They were shouting now, a chorus of twisted, demonic voices that seemed to be coming from all around her. Mary clamped her hands over her ears, but it was no use. The voices were inside her head.

Suddenly, the room went black. Mary felt cold hands grip her ankles, pulling her towards the end of the bed. She tried to scream, but the voices drowned her out. The hands dragged her off the bed and onto the floor, where she lay trembling in the darkness.

The voices laughed, a sound that chilled Mary to the bone. They told her that they owned her now, that she was theirs to do with as they pleased. Mary knew that she was doomed.

The next morning, when the sun rose and the light flooded the room, the voices were gone. Mary was alone, but she knew that they would be back. They always came back. And there was nothing she could do to stop them.