Chapter 1: The Creep at My Door

Help, there’s a creep following me into the apartment building.

I’m hiding now, he hasn’t left yet—everyone, please be careful.

The alert flashed in our building’s group chat just after midnight, right as I was about to queue up for another round of Overwatch. The tired blue glow of my monitor was the only light in my cramped apartment. My chair squeaked as I leaned back, grabbing my phone from beside an old Red Sox cap hanging by the door. The panic in the message cut through my sleepy haze—this wasn’t the usual neighbor griping about a barking dog or a missing Amazon package.

Someone fired off a reply almost instantly: “Come on, it’s just some creep. Just kick him out—what’s so scary about that?”

Seconds later, that same neighbor sent a photo, and this time their tone was frantic:

“No, you don’t get it. I should’ve said—he doesn’t even look like a normal person.”

“More like… I dunno, some kind of not-human.”

I tapped the photo open, not expecting much—then nearly fell out of my chair.

The picture was grainy, like something out of a bad found-footage movie, probably snapped from behind a cracked door or through a peephole. There was a person sprawled on the cheap linoleum tiles that always felt sticky, but nothing about them made sense. Black dress shoes on their feet, but women’s pink heels buckled over their hands, fingers splayed out at weird angles. Their face was twisted into a lopsided grin that sent a wave of nausea rolling through me.

Before I could wrap my head around it, the same neighbor tagged me in the group chat: “Be careful, he’s heading to your floor.”

I stared at the screen, heart pounding, as the footsteps outside my door grew closer. I wasn’t sure if I’d live to send another message.