He froze.

His heart slammed so hard it felt like something else in the room could hear it… something already there.

— “W-who are you?..” he whispered.

A pause.

The kind of silence that bends your mind out of shape.

— “I told you… don’t turn around.”

The voice dropped lower now. Rougher. Not human anymore.

He clenched his fist slowly, hard enough to feel pain.

This isn’t a dream.

Somewhere deeper in the apartment, a door creaked.

Soft. Careful.

But he knew—he lived alone.

He had always lived alone.

— “You’re not alone anymore…” the voice murmured, as if reading his thoughts.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

But his mind betrayed him.

What was behind him?

That dog?

Or something that only looked like it?

He remembered the eyes.

Empty. Deep. Too aware.

That wasn’t how animals looked.

That was how something looked… when it recognized you.

— “You don’t remember me?” the voice said again.

Now farther away.

Or… moving?

The floor creaked.

Behind him.

To the left.

Now to the right.

It was circling him.

Slowly.

— “I’ve always been here…”

The whisper spread across the room.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

— “STOP!” he shouted.

And instantly—

silence.

Complete. Violent silence.

No breathing.

No movement.

Nothing.

He stood frozen.

One second.

Two.

Five.

And then…

on the wall in front of him—

a shadow appeared.

Not his.

Too large.

Too stretched.

And… on four legs.

He stared at it, unable to blink.

The shadow slowly lifted its head.

The same way.

Unnaturally slow.

And then, behind him—

— “Now… you can turn around.”

Every instinct screamed not to.

But he did.

Slowly.

Like moving through thick water.

And saw—

nothing.

The kitchen was empty.

Completely.

Except…

on the ceiling.

Right above him.

Marks.

Fresh.

Deep.

As if something heavy had just been standing there.

He stepped back—

and felt something soft under his foot.

His heart dropped.

He looked down.

A bowl.

A dog bowl.

Empty.

But…

he had never owned a dog.

Never.

His hands began to shake.

— “Are you hungry?..” the voice whispered.

This time—

right in front of him.

He looked up sharply.

And in the reflection of the window…

he saw it.

Himself.

And behind him—

a shape.

Huge.

With a long muzzle.

Eyes glowing… not reflecting light—

but giving it.

— “You called me…” the voice said, almost gently.

— “I didn’t…” he barely breathed.

The shape in the reflection… smiled.

Yes.

Smiled.

— “You left the door open.”

He froze.

The door.

He remembered.

Earlier that evening…

he really had—

left it open.

Just for a second.

Just a moment.

But—

— “That was enough.”

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then died.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Thick.

Alive.

And in that darkness—

he heard footsteps.

Not human.

Slow.

Heavy.

Above him.

On the ceiling.

thud…

thud…

thud…

He didn’t breathe.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t exist.

And then—

right next to his face—

a whisper:

— “Now… do you see?..”

And in the darkness—

eyes opened.

Not his.

Too close.

Far too close.

And in that moment, he understood—

it was already too late.

Because behind him—

very softly—

the front door lock clicked.

On its own.

And in the apartment…

he was no longer alone.

And whatever was there…

already knew his name.

— “…I’ve been waiting for you.”