Only my mother ever called me that.

Claire returns to her childhood home after her marriage ends — her mother recently dead, her daughter Maisie beside her, and a house she has spent years avoiding.

The house is unchanged.

The recordings are still there.

Room by room. Date by date.

Claire begins to listen.

What the tapes contain is not memory.

The house has rules. Quiet rules. Small rules. Rules that seem harmless until they aren't.

As Maisie begins to change, Claire realises the recordings were never documentation.

They were instructions.

And something inside the house has been waiting for her return.

It was going through her.