Peter and his parents lived in a small house near a village, in India. It was a belief two years ago that there lived a family here, who were murdered but there bodies were never found.

Police had somehow managed to cover the case by saying that a serial killer had barged into their house and killed them.

Peter's parents had adopted him, one month ago. He was a typical child prodigy, observant and keen  to learn new things. He was one of those kids who would randomly pick up something and start scribbling meaningful things on a paper.

But he was extremely curious.

One day his parents assisted a servant to take care of him, while they were gone. She was a petite woman, with big brown curls and dark green eyes. Something about her seemed mysterious.

Peter found the way she was speaking extremely unique. She would say a letter more loudly than the others. It was as if she was trying to communicate with someone.

When Peter was sent off to sleep, he heard something moving in his house. When he opened the door, he saw a crayon moving on the paper on it's own.

He closed the door with fear and called up his parents.

"We're coming." His mother said. She sounded worried and scared for her son.

When his parents went inside the house, he saw the woman  holding Peter.

"Leave my son." Peter's mother yelled.

"It's not what it seems." The servant said. She had a gash on her arm. Peter was trying to protect himself from her evil motives.

The servant stumbled upon the crayon and opened the door of the house.

"Go back to the room, Peter." His dad said.

His parents sat down on the floor and started talking about his safety.

Suddenly, his mom's eyes moved towards the drawing on the floor.

It wasn't a drawing, it was a note.

WE ARE IN THE WALLS, TRYING TO HELP YOU! GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AS SOON AS YOU CAN. THE KID IS NOT AS HE SEEMS. HE'S OUR SON, WHO KILLED US.