She doesn't exist. She can't exist.
'Those who live in the walls must adjust, must twist themselves
around in their home,
stretching themselves until they're as thin as air. Not everyone
can do what they can.
But soon enough, they can't help themselves. Signs of their
presence remain in a house.
Eventually, every hidden thing is found.'
Elise knows every inch of the house. She knows which boards will
creak. She knows where the gaps are in the walls. She knows which
parts can take her in, hide her away. It's home, after all. The
home her parents made for her. And home is where you stay, no
matter what.