I’d always been a bit of a jumpy person, prone to letting my imagination run wild at the slightest hint of a strange noise or unexplained shadow. But even I had to admit that the past few nights had been particularly unsettling.
I had been hearing strange noises coming from outside my window, and no matter how many times I checked, there was never anyone or anything there. It was as if the sounds were coming from thin air. I lived alone in a studio apartment. By choice. I wasn’t a fan of roommates. Or romance, after my boyfriend of two years vanished into the night with our cat and the next month’s rental payment.
I tried to brush it off as just my overactive imagination getting the better of me, but the feeling only intensified as the days went by. It was like a voice in the back of my head, constantly reminding me that something was not right.
One night, after tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I finally decided to investigate. Wearing my former boyfriend’s XL Pendleton shirt, I padded over to the window, my heart racing in my chest.
As I peered out into the darkness, I saw a pair of glowing eyes staring back at me. I froze, my whole body going rigid with fear.
“I want you in the worst possible way,” a voice whispered from the darkness.
I screamed and ran back to my bed, pulling the covers up over my head as if they could somehow protect me from whatever was out there. I lay there, trembling in the suffocating dark until dawn began to peek through the covers.
When I finally worked up the courage to leave my quilted womb, I found that all of windows in the apartment were nailed shut. There was no way to escape whatever was stalking me.
I tried to call for help, but my battery was dead. I was completely cut off from the outside world, with no way to get help.
As the days went by, my fear turned to desperation. I was convinced that whatever was after me was not human, and that I was never going to make it out alive.
I began to hear the voice more and more frequently, hissing threats of what it would do if it ever got its hands on me.
I knew I had to find a way out, but every time I tried to escape, I was thwarted by some unseen force. It was as if my apartment itself was against me, trapping me within its walls.
One night, as I lay awake in bed, the voice suddenly stopped. I held my breath, waiting for it to start up again. But there was only silence.
I slowly sat up, my eyes scanning the room. And that’s when I saw it - a figure standing in the corner, its eyes fixed on me.
I let out a blood-curdling scream as the figure began to move towards me. I kicked and flailed, trying to get away, but it was no use. The creature was too strong.
As it loomed over me, its hot breath on my face, I closed my eyes and waited for the end. But it never came.
When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone. I was alone again in the apartment, with no sign that it had ever been there.
I lay there, shaking and sobbing, until the sun rose. And when it did, I knew what I had to do.
I gathered together all of my furniture and blocked the front door. Whatever had been stalking me was still out there, wanting me in the worst possible way. But I was stronger than it gave me credit for. I would not be its victim.
Or so I thought.
As I slowly circled the apartment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was following me. I kept looking behind me, but there was never anything there. The creature was somehow able to stay hidden from my sight.
I knew I had to get as far away from it as possible, so I began running. After forty or so laps, my bare feet began to hurt. I stopped at my closet. Chest heaving, pouring sweat, I laced on my Adidas running shoes. They were worn, but still sturdy. My go-to running shoes, I’d put many miles on them, running with my former boyfriend over hill and dale, breathing in sweet air and his masculine scent.
Shoes tied tight, I picked up my pace. But no matter how fast I ran, I sensed the creature was getting closer and closer. I could feel its presence, almost as if it was my boyfriend, prodding me ahead, pushing me beyond the limits of my endurance. My lungs ached. But I wasn’t about to give up now. I ran harder, banging against the walls, increasing my lap speed.
“I will always be with you,” the voice whispered in my ear. “I will always want you in the worst possible way.”
I let out a scream, stumbled and fell head first, crashing into the pile of furniture I’d shoved against the door. An antique oak dresser my mother had given me toppled over, pinning me to the floor.
Helpless, dazed and disoriented, I felt a pair of cold hands wrap around my neck.
My own.
Slender and smelling of lavender, yet incredibly strong.
Fingers insistent, pressing hard against my larynx.
The pain was unbearable. I tried to scream, but couldn’t, my vocal cords trapped beneath my ever-tightening grip.
And then, everything went black.
I awakened, gagging. Inching to the kitchenette, I found a steak knife, severed an electrical cord and tied my wrists together. Instinctively, I knew it had to be done.
I was my own worst enemy. I had absorbed my fears and then become them. There was no Creature hovering outside the window.
The Creature.
Was.
Is.
Me.
And how, in the name of all that is good, can I escape me?