“A desperate spider clung to the rubber seam outside; an unwilling stowaway to God knows where. The spider kept trying to climb the glass, only for the wind to knock it back down, make it start from scratch. Relatable.”

As Macy Mullins travels to her job interview, she observes a spider on the bus window. This image serves as an introductory metaphor for Macy’s own situation, establishing her feelings of powerlessness against overwhelming forces and her cynical self-awareness. The spider’s futile struggle directly reflects Macy’s repeated failures in the job market and her socioeconomic entrapment. The final, single-word sentence (“Relatable”) sets the sardonic, weary tone of her first-person narration.

“With a peppy smile, Grace answered, ‘Troublesome people are often people in trouble.’”

During Macy’s interview, Grace Carnswel offers this aphorism to explain her past volunteer work, framing it as an expression of empathy. The statement is layered with irony, as Grace is actively exploiting Macy’s financial “trouble” to solve her own supernatural one. This moment subtly frames the job offer as a predatory arrangement, highlighting the theme of The Horror of Economic Precarity by showing how vulnerability can be leveraged under the guise of compassion.

“Here, the tape glitches out, cutting to a stationary shot of an empty room—no visible windows or doors. […] This image, likely a remnant of something taped over, holds for about three seconds, and then, like nothing even happened, the footage cuts back to David.”

While Macy and Jemma watch the instructional VHS tape, the footage is momentarily interrupted. This visual disruption serves as a narrative device, breaking the flow of David’s exposition and introducing an element of suspense and foreshadowing. The glitch suggests that David’s Rites are an unstable or incomplete system and hints at a hidden, more sinister truth contained within the physical medium of the tape itself. The stark, unnerving image of the concrete room implies a history that exists outside of David’s controlled narrative.

“I made up my mind right then and there. Turning back, I pulled open the sliding door, stepped inside, and muttered to myself: ‘Stupid fucking idiot.’”

After weighing the job’s ominous warnings against her desperate financial situation, Macy makes her final decision. This line crystallizes her internal conflict, revealing that she’s acting out of a self-aware resignation to her circumstances. Her profane self-admonishment underscores that she knows the choice is dangerous but feels like she has no other option, concluding the novel’s first section by showing how economic precarity overrides self-preservation.

“David’s warning echoed in my head: ‘As soon as you set foot on this property with intention to be its caretaker, you can’t just quit…’ I looked over my shoulder—the Uber crawled around a distant bend. I turned back, my feet still rooted to the spot.”

This moment establishes the novel’s first turning point as a conscious, irreversible choice, transforming the property line into a supernatural threshold. The physical act of crossing the boundary signifies Macy’s acceptance of a binding contract. Her hesitation, with her feet “rooted to the spot,” uses character action to externalize the internal conflict between her economic desperation and her instinct for self-preservation.

“‘The electrical wiring in this place,’ she explained. ‘The lights turn off and on by themselves all the time.’ She kept moving. ‘You’d swear it was haunted, but it’s just my dolt of a husband, rest his soul. He refused to ever hire an electrician.’”2

Grace offers a mundane explanation for what the reader knows is a central component of the supernatural Rites. This dialogue deliberately creates ambiguity, forcing both Macy and the reader to question whether the phenomena David experienced in the Prologue are paranormal or simply the result of human failure. Kliewer establishes a tension between rational explanation and supernatural dread that persists throughout the narrative.

“Thoughts are sound, Macy, background noise like rain against a window or an annoying song on the radio. These sounds will come and go whether we want them to or not. Accept them as they are, not as right, not as wrong, just another external stimulus.”

This passage of internal monologue reveals Macy’s psychological coping mechanisms, which mirror David’s Rites. Her attempt to treat intrusive thoughts as external, neutral stimuli is a form of self-imposed rite designed to manage internal chaos. This directly parallels David’s Rites for managing external chaos, illustrating the theme of Grief as Ritual by showing how individuals construct systems to create an illusion of control over overwhelming psychological distress.

“Beneath its dead skin, a writhing mass of tightly packed maggots squirmed with embryonic unison. There were hundreds, maybe thousands—grayish-white incubating larvae. The skin was pulled so tight it made the maggots look like the wrinkles of a palpitating brain—ku-schlump, ku-schlump, ku-schlump.”

The author uses visceral, grotesque imagery to pervert the rabbit, a symbol often associated with innocence. The description of maggots moving with “embryonic unison” and the simile comparing them to a “palpitating brain” creates a sense of unnatural, intelligent corruption festering beneath a seemingly mundane surface. The onomatopoeia “ku-schlump” enhances the body horror, viscerally connecting the external decay to the psychological dread Macy experiences.

“All I could do was stare past them, watching the lights of their cruiser flash red and blue. Red and blue. Red and blue. Lights that coated our front yard, painted the lawn that Dad himself had mowed the day before. His grass-stained bootprints still visible on the concrete walkway. Red…blue…red…blue…red…”

This flashback uses fragmented syntax and sensory repetition to depict the dissociative nature of trauma. The flashing police lights become a recurring image that represents Macy’s grief, their colors “painting” over the familiar, domestic image of her father’s final actions. The contrast between the mundane detail of “grass-stained bootprints” and the rhythmic, impersonal flashing of the lights illustrates the moment her world was irrevocably changed.

“On top of that, these intrusive, repetitive thoughts were starting to feel like fragile glass tendrils, sprouting inside of my brain, interconnected. If I were to ignore them, leave those locks unchecked, the tendrils would shatter, and countless splinters of glass would be permanently stuck inside of my head like dollar-store glitter.”

This passage uses a complex metaphor to articulate Macy’s deteriorating mental state under the influence of the house and its Rites. The “fragile glass tendrils” represent the compulsive thoughts that are beginning to dominate her consciousness, linking her psychological state directly to David’s supernatural rules. The final simile, comparing the resulting mental fragments to “dollar-store glitter,” juxtaposes the profound psychological horror with a cheap, mundane image, heightening the sense of unease and transgression.

“It’s an old woman, no, not old, ancient. So gaunt her pale skin looks vacuum-sealed against her bones. She’s standing with her back turned, arms dangling at her sides, completely naked, save for…wrapped around her head, a plastic bag, glossy and black—bright red electrical tape holding it in place around a withered neck.”

This quote from Macy’s nightmare establishes the visceral, body-horror aspect of the entity, moving beyond psychological suggestion into grotesque, concrete imagery. The description blends the mundane (a plastic bag and electrical tape) with the ancient and supernatural, creating an unsettling figure that defies easy categorization. This vision serves as crucial foreshadowing, giving the reader the first glimpse of both the antagonist that Macy will later confront and the truth about the past she’s trying to repress.

“He spun at the sound of my voice. His ears were flat, his pale blue eyes filled with: You’re considering it, aren’t you? You’re actually considering burning me alive. You monster. I looked to the fireplace again, then back to the rabbit. I drifted over, one foot after the other. […] I reached forward and unlocked the patio door.”

This moment marks a critical turning point where Macy makes a conscious moral choice to defy the Rites. By projecting human-like terror and accusation onto the rabbit, the narrative heightens her internal conflict, pitting her empathy against the supernatural system’s demands for cruelty. Her decision to release the rabbit, a key symbol in the novel, is an act of rebellion that directly precipitates the escalation of paranormal events, demonstrating the severe consequences of choosing compassion over adherence to the rules.

“The visions of horror gave way to one last image. Something far worse than anything that had come before: Jemma’s lifeless body. She lay on concrete, facing the sky, rigid—stiller than a porcelain doll. Her round glasses reflected red light, concealing her hazel eyes from view.”

Kliewer uses a sequence of increasingly disturbing hallucinatory images to illustrate the “devastating setback” promised by the Rites. The apocalyptic visions strategically end with an image of specific, personalized horror, which proves far more effective in manipulating Macy. The climactic image of Jemma, described with the simile “stiller than a porcelain doll,” weaponizes Macy’s deepest fear and love, forcing her to abandon her escape and fully commit to the supernatural reality she had tried to deny.

“I figure losing a person might be similar. The brain gets so used to someone being around, it tells you they’re still here, even when they’re gone and never coming back. Phantom person syndrome.”

In this internal monologue, Macy conceptualizes her unresolved grief through a scientific metaphor, “[p]hantom person syndrome.” This comparison frames her emotional state as a neurological condition, underscoring her attempt to rationalize an overwhelming loss. The passage establishes the psychological foundation for her vulnerability, suggesting that her mind possesses qualities that the entity can later exploit to its advantage.

“This was less about saving humanity and more about scratching some insatiable itch. Still, I kept glancing back, kept bracing to see a pale figure […] but nothing was there…”

As Macy follows footprints into the woods, the narration reveals the true nature of her motivation for adhering to the supernatural rules. The simile comparing her compulsive need to follow the Rites to “scratching some insatiable itch” repositions her actions as a need for relief. This diction reframes the Rites from a system of protection into a mechanism of psychological control, aligning with the theme of Grief as Ritual by portraying the rules as a coping mechanism for internal chaos.

“It was Lucy, just as I expected, but…her eyes were a different color now. A pale blue, so cold they were almost white. I still couldn’t remember what color her eyes had been when we met at the lookout, but they definitely hadn’t been blue…or at least not a blue like this.”

Upon confronting the Visitor in Lucy’s form, the narrative focuses on a single, uncanny detail: the eyes. The description uses sensory imagery (“cold”) and color symbolism (“pale blue,” “almost white”) to signify the entity’s inhuman nature, marking the familiar human form as a deceptive vessel. The narrator’s uncertain memory of Lucy’s original eye color further heightens the psychological horror, blurring the line between supernatural transformation and Macy’s unreliable perception.

“‘The real reason you don’t try again is that you’re just too fucking scared.’ The voice shifted once more. Now it was my own voice. Filled with a hatred for Macy Mullins that was unmatched by every soul on earth. Every soul except for mine.”

During a moment of intense psychological torment, the Visitor’s voice transforms from an imitation of Jemma to an imitation of her own, weaponizing her deepest insecurities. This vocal shift is a critical narrative device, externalizing Macy’s internal self-loathing and projecting it onto the antagonist. The quote demonstrates the entity’s strategy of using personal trauma as its primary weapon, proving that its power is derived from the exploitation of Macy’s unresolved psychological wounds.

“A malignant force seeped out from the ever-constricting grip, invaded my body like needles through skin. A rising sting that slid up my leg, snaked up my spine, filled my head with intrusive horrors beyond reason. The thin ropes holding my sanity in place snap, snap, snapped.”

Here, the narrative uses tactile imagery (“needles through skin,” “rising sting”) and metaphor (“thin ropes holding my sanity”) to articulate the Visitor’s psychological assault. The physical contact becomes a conduit for mental violation, demonstrating that the entity’s threat transcends bodily harm. The onomatopoeic repetition of “snap, snap, snapped” provides auditory emphasis to the moment of Macy’s personal crisis, externalizing her internal feelings.

“The knot in my throat welled up again, and this time I finally just let myself cry. Not tears of rage, not tears of bitter self-hatred, just sadness. Painful, but cathartic—disinfectant to a wound that had been open for the last three years.”

This moment marks a crucial turning point in Macy’s character arc, representing her first genuine confrontation with her grief. The metaphor calling her tears “disinfectant to a wound” explicitly frames this emotional release as a necessary step toward healing, directly addressing the theme of Grief as Ritual. In a narrative dominated by supernatural rituals, this internal, cathartic act suggests that true resolution comes from emotional honesty rather than compulsive procedure.

“The Visitor at the door was the spitting image of my father, down to every last detail. […] His expression was filled with the exact same spark of gentle kindness it always had. A spark that used to make me feel so safe, but now, seeing it here, filled me with unimaginable terror.”

This passage reveals the entity’s ultimate strategy: weaponizing the protagonist’s most profound source of grief. The direct juxtaposition of a “gentle kindness” that now inspires “unimaginable terror” shows how the Visitor perverts memory and love into instruments of horror. By assuming her father’s form, the entity forces a direct confrontation with the central trauma that Macy has been avoiding, making the threat intensely personal and psychological.

“Yes, things would be better, but Dad or no Dad, negativity lives in my bones. Sits perched on my shoulders like two deadbeat angels, dreary and day-drunk, mumbling into my ears: Just stay in bed, Macy.”

In this internal monologue, Macy uses personification to describe her depression as “two deadbeat angels,” a metaphor that characterizes her mental illness as a chronic, parasitic presence. This passage establishes that Macy’s mental illness predates the novel’s central trauma of her father’s death, framing the supernatural events as an exacerbation of an existing condition rather than its sole cause. This interiority grounds the horror in a realistic psychological landscape, blurring the line between internal demons and external ones.

“‘Macy,’ his voice cracked, on the verge of tears, ‘you have to run.’ […] But despite his pleas, he kept trying to break inside—his words begging me to leave, but his hands trying to force their way through the door.”

This quote depicts the Visitor in the form of Macy’s deceased father. The text creates a clear juxtaposition between the entity’s spoken words, which mimic paternal concern, and its violent physical actions. This contradiction is a form of psychological torture, designed to exploit Macy’s grief and love for her father. The entity’s methodology reveals its nature: More than physically threaten its victims, it weaponizes their deepest emotional attachments against them.

“I disassociated. Abandoned my body, drifted back from the scene as if it were happening to someone else. Happening to a carbon copy Macy.”

Immediately after Macy believes she has killed her sister, the narrative perspective shifts to describe a psychological trauma response. The concise, declarative sentence “I disassociated” marks the climax of Macy’s psychological horror. This direct statement illustrates the ultimate failure of the Rites to protect her, showing that the most severe damage inflicted by the entity is mental and emotional.