Luke didn't answer right away. He had to finish his counting. One to seven, meticulously. There was not a force in the world that could sway him from finishing the sequence. Not since he was a small child.
He closed his eyes briefly, still holding the fridge door open, and he pressed his forehead against it. "Since I was six years old," he spoke in a low voice, almost as if he didn't want the man with the hat to overhear. "My family lived in Hill House, and he followed me when we left."