Who are you talking to mom?” I asked her from behind. But there was no response, just a creepy silence. As I moved to the side of the bed, my heart sank as I saw my mother sitting, staring blankly ahead. I asked her again, “Mom, who are you talking to?” She turned her head slowly, her eyes filled with terror, and whispered, “There are things that are not of this world. They are watching us, always waiting to strike. Demons aren’t real, they said. But they are. And they are here.” Suddenly, the room became colder, the lights flickered, and I knew that we weren’t alone.