I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe it’s because I need to get it off my chest. Maybe it’s because I hope someone will believe me. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t.
It all started a few weeks ago, when I moved into a new apartment. It was a nice place, spacious and modern, with a balcony overlooking the city. The rent was affordable, and the location was convenient. It seemed like a perfect deal.
But there was something wrong with the apartment. Something very wrong.
I noticed it on the first night. As I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I heard a faint scratching sound coming from the wall behind me. It sounded like nails on wood, or maybe teeth on bone. It was rhythmic and persistent, like someone or something was trying to get in.
I got up and turned on the light, hoping to scare away whatever was making the noise. But as soon as I did, the scratching stopped. There was nothing on the wall, no sign of damage or intrusion. Just a smooth white surface.
I thought maybe it was a rat or a mouse in the wall, or maybe some pipes or wires making noise. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep.
But the next night, it happened again.
And the night after that.
And every night since then.
The scratching never stopped. It only got louder and faster and more desperate. It sounded like whatever was behind the wall wanted out badly. And it knew I was there.
I tried everything to make it stop. I banged on the wall with my fist, hoping to scare it away or at least make some noise of my own. But that only made it worse. The scratching became more frantic and angrier, like it was taunting me or challenging me.
I tried covering my ears with pillows or headphones, but that didn’t help either. The scratching seemed to penetrate my skull and echo in my brain.
I tried calling the landlord and complaining about the noise problem in my apartment. But he said he couldn’t hear anything when he came over to check it out. He said maybe I had tinnitus or some other ear condition that made me hear things that weren’t there.
He said maybe I should see a doctor.
But I knew he was wrong.
Because one night, when I couldn’t take it anymore,
I decided to see what was behind the wall. What did I find behind the wall.
I wish I could tell you. But I can’t.
Because I don’t remember.
All I know is that I grabbed a hammer and smashed a hole in the wall. And then I saw something. Something horrible. Something that made me scream and drop the hammer and run out of the apartment.
And then I blacked out.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The doctors said I had a seizure and collapsed on the street. They said they found me covered in blood and dirt and scratches. They said they didn’t know what caused it.
They said maybe it was stress or trauma or some kind of infection. They said maybe I should see a psychiatrist. But I knew they were wrong. Because when they left me alone in the room,
I HEARD THE SCRATCHING AGAIN!