2:16 A.M.
Sophie woke because someone was crying.
She didn't know how long she'd been awake before she realized it wasn't part of her dream.
The sound came through the wall beside her bed—soft, uneven sobs muffled by plaster and the old wallpaper that her landlord insisted made the apartment look charming.
Sophie stared into the darkness.
Another sob.
She sighed and reached for her phone.
2:16 A.M.
"Seriously?"
She had an exam at eight.
Her brain was already negotiating how much sleep she could sacrifice without completely ruining her morning.
Four hours and forty-four minutes.
Four hours and thirty-nine if she kept listening to the woman next door.
Sophie rolled onto her side and stared at the thin strip of light beneath her bedroom door.
The crying stopped.
She waited.
Nothing.
Then she heard a soft scrape.
From the hallway.
Sophie sat up.
Her apartment was small. One bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that could barely fit two people,
and a living room she'd decorated mostly with secondhand furniture.
She knew every sound it made.
The refrigerator clicked.
The pipes groaned.
The floor near the bathroom complained whenever someone stepped on it.
But this sound was unfamiliar.
A slow drag.
Then silence.
Sophie reached for her phone again.
She opened her messages.
There was one from her younger brother, sent twenty minutes ago.
You awake?
She smiled.
Of course he would choose the middle of the night to bother her.
She typed:
Unfortunately. Why?
The message delivered.
She waited.
Nothing.
"Go to sleep, Noah," she muttered.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
Do you hear that?
Sophie's smile faded.
She looked toward the bedroom door.
Hear what?
The answer came almost immediately.
Exactly.
She frowned.
Before she could respond, every light in the apartment went out.
The fan stopped.
The refrigerator stopped humming.
Her phone screen suddenly seemed impossibly bright.
Sophie froze.
Then she noticed something else.
The crying next door was gone.
Not just the crying.
Everything was gone.
No traffic outside.
No distant voices.
No barking dogs.
No wind pushing against the windows.
Nothing.
Sophie had lived in the city her entire life.
There was always noise.
Even at three in the morning, there was always something.
A car.
A siren.
A television through someone's wall.
A drunk person laughing on the sidewalk.
The city was never silent.
Until now.
Sophie slowly lowered her phone.
Her own breathing suddenly sounded enormous.
She could hear her heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Then—
BANG.
Sophie nearly dropped the phone.
The sound had come from her front door.
She stared toward the bedroom.
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Her phone vibrated in her hand.
She looked down.
A message from Noah.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
Sophie, don't make a sound.
The message changed.
Sophie blinked.
She refreshed the screen.
The name at the top was still Noah.
But the message now read:
Sophie, don't make a sound.
Her stomach dropped.
She stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
Whatever happens, don't answer the door.
Sophie stopped breathing.
Three more knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
She wanted to call him.
She wanted to call anyone.
Instead, she switched off her phone screen and slowly climbed out of bed.
One step.
Then another.
She moved toward the bedroom door.
The hallway beyond it was completely dark.
She reached for the handle.
Stopped.
Something had changed.
She could hear breathing.
Not hers.
It was coming from the other side of her bedroom door.
Slow.
Deep.
Patient.
Sophie backed away.
The thing outside moved.
A soft scrape against the floor.
Then a voice whispered through the door.
"Sophie?"
Her blood turned cold.
It sounded exactly like Noah.
Exactly.
"Sophie, open the door."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Noah?"
The moment the word left her mouth, the breathing stopped.
The apartment became perfectly still.
Sophie covered her mouth.
Don't answer.
She hadn't meant to.
She hadn't even thought.
Then, from somewhere beyond her front door, something began to laugh.
Quietly.
Almost like a person trying very hard to remember how.
Sophie stood frozen in the darkness.
And then her phone lit up one final time.
Noah:
I'm not outside your door.
A pause.
Another message.
I'm three hundred miles away.
Sophie stared at the screen.
Then came the final message.
Run.
And somewhere in the apartment—
a floorboard creaked behind her.
