He summoned you to kill her .

In life, Eleanor Slaughter was not a monster. She was a retired music teacher, a widow, and the beloved “Granny” of the neighborhood. She raised you for three summers when your parents traveled for work. She baked pies. She sang lullabies. She had a locked basement door she told you never to touch.

“That’s where Grandpa’s old tools are,” she’d say with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sharp things. Not for little hands.”