The Seven Visitations of Sydney Burgess

I’ll admit, I went into *The Seven Visitations* expecting a straightforward thriller, but Marino’s novel is far sneakier—and far more disturbing. The premise hooks you fast: a home invasion leaves Sydney Burgess shattered, but the real horror begins when she starts *hearing things*—whispers, scratches, the sound of teeth. Lakin’s narration is a masterclass in tension; she doesn’t just read the lines, she *inhabits* Sydney’s spiraling paranoia. There’s a scene early on where Sydney describes the ‘wrongness’ of her reflection, and Lakin’s voice drops to this hollow, almost childlike tone that made my skin prickle. It’s that kind of audiobook: one that demands you listen in daylight. That said, the pacing stumbles in the middle. Marino spends a *lot* of time inside Sydney’s head—sometimes too much. The repetitive cycles of doubt and self-loathing start to drag, and I found myself craving more external stakes to balance the psychological deep dive. And while the horror elements are brilliant (the *thing* in the walls is one of the most original monsters I’ve encountered in years), the ending feels slightly rushed, like Marino got so caught up in the atmosphere that the payoff got shortchanged. Still, Lakin’s performance elevates even the slower stretches, and the final act’s body horror is so viscerally rendered that I actually flinched. If you love horror that’s as cerebral as it is gory—and don’t mind a protagonist who’s as unreliable as she is compelling—this is a standout. Just maybe don’t listen to it alone at night.