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It was a quiet night, the kind where the darkness felt thicker, wrapping around the world like a velvet blanket. Iga Piswi had always found comfort in the solitude of these late hours. The gentle hum of the city in the distance, the occasional rustling of the trees outside her window, and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on her bedside table created a symphony of quietude that she had grown to love.
Tonight was no different—until it was.
As she scrolled mindlessly through her phone, her fingers hesitated over a notification. A new post had appeared on her feed, seemingly out of nowhere, with no context or explanation. The username was familiar but unsettling: it belonged to someone who had disappeared months ago.
Iga sat up in bed, her heart beginning to race. She tapped on the post, and a single image filled the screen—a photo of her own bedroom, captured from a corner of the ceiling. The timestamp read just moments ago.
A chill ran down her spine. Her eyes darted to the corner of the room where the photo had been taken, but there was nothing there. She swallowed hard, her breath shaky. Had someone been in her room? Was there a hidden camera?
Her mind raced with possibilities, but before she could react further, a comment appeared under the post:
“Do you miss me?”
Iga’s hands trembled as she stared at the words. She knew who had posted it. It was her old friend, Marek—a friend who had vanished without a trace months ago. His disappearance had left an eerie silence, unanswered questions, and a lingering sense of unease that never quite faded.
She hesitated, then typed a reply. “Marek? Where are you?”
The response was instant.
“Right here.”
A new image loaded. This time, it showed the hallway outside her bedroom door. The doorknob was visible in the frame. It was the same as it looked now, in real-time.
Iga’s breath hitched. A cold sweat prickled her skin. She turned her gaze slowly toward the door, half-expecting to see it move, to hear a creak, to witness something—anything—that would explain the impossible.
But there was only silence.
Her phone vibrated again. Another comment.
“Open the door.”
Iga squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up. This had to be a dream. A prank. A glitch. But deep down, she knew it was none of those things.
The weight of the night pressed in on her. The world outside her window was the same, but everything inside had shifted.
She reached for the lamp beside her bed, her fingers cold against the switch. Light flooded the room, pushing back the shadows, but doing nothing to ease the growing terror in her chest.
Her phone vibrated one last time.
A final message.
“I see you.”