Gideon: Some doors remember what you've done.

When trauma counselor Bastian arrives at St. Jude's Home for the Unclaimed on the desolate Oregon coast, he expects to help troubled children heal. What he finds instead is a place where children sleep with their shoes facing the wall, where the lights flicker whenever the coastal fog rolls in, and where fifty pairs of small feet learn to walk in silence.

The staff calls it night terrors. The children call it the friend who comes at night. But Bastian's forensic instincts-honed by his detective father-tell him something far more sinister lurks in the condemned fourth floor, sealed behind oak boards with rusted nails pointing outward.

Not to keep the children out.

As children begin losing pieces of themselves to the darkness-fingers and toes macerated by freezing saltwater that shouldn't exist on the third floor-Bastian discovers St. Jude's horrifying secret: the orphanage isn't sheltering abandoned children. It's feeding them to something ancient that lives in the negative space between the walls.

Something that learns by listening.
Something that mimics the voices of those you've failed.
Something that doesn't need an ocean to drown you.

Perfect for fans of Paul Tremblay, Mariana Enríquez, and Jeff VanderMeer, Gideon is a visceral exploration of institutional horror where the real monster might just be the guilt you can't escape.

Content Warning: Contains depictions of psychological horror, body horror, institutional neglect, and themes of childhood trauma.