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“It’s coming from downstairs!” My voice is quiet even to my own ears, and I’m not sure she heard me. She’s standing in the doorway, staring towards the kitchen where The Door is.
No, stop that. I haven’t called it The Door since I was nine, and I’m not going to start again now just because I had a bad dream.
The banging comes again, slow and loud. It shouldn’t be that loud, not unless…
The Door is open.
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