The book is gone. But I hear him in the walls.
Last night, I saw him in the mirror behind my reflection. Not moving. Just there . Patient. When I blinked, he leaned closer. Babadook
He waits.
The first page was harmless. A nursery rhyme about a mother and her boy. But when you turned to the second spread, the letters tilted. The paper felt rough, like scabs. If it's in a word, or in a look You can't get rid of the Babadook. I laughed. Tried to. The book is gone