I turned eighteen, the night the dead started following me.
"And finally, it was a fun day, especially for Liz and Alexis," I wrote in my journal, a small smile resting on my lips. Writing had always been my quiet habit, something I held onto no matter how tired I was.
I closed the journal gently and placed it beside me.
The house had been warm that evening, filled with laughter and small arguments that never really meant anything. Liz had been her usual loud self, laughing at everything, while Alexis kept pretending to be annoyed, even though she was the one starting most of the chaos.
They had spent half the time fighting over the cake, only to make something completely uneven.
It wasn't perfect, but it was ours.
I leaned back slightly, letting those moments replay in my mind.
Their faces, their voices, the way they looked so carefree… it always made something inside me feel lighter. No matter how difficult things got, they were enough to remind me why I kept going.
They were my reason.
I pulled the blanket over myself, letting the quiet of the night settle in.
The laughter faded, the house grew still, and slowly, sleep began to take over. My eyes closed, my breathing steady, everything finally calm after a long day.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Just silence.
And then something felt wrong.
My eyes opened slowly, my mind still heavy with sleep.
At first, I thought it was nothing, just that strange feeling you get when you wake up suddenly in the middle of the night. But then my gaze shifted toward the door.
Someone was standing there.
I didn't move.
The figure was still, almost too still, like it didn't belong to the room. For a second, I thought it might be one of my sisters, maybe unable to sleep, maybe just standing there for no reason.
But something wasn't right.
They weren't that tall.
I sat up slowly, my heart beginning to beat a little faster, not out of fear, but confusion.
My hand reached for the switch, and with a soft click, the room filled with light.
The figure didn't disappear.
Instead, it became clearer.
It looked like a man, but something about him was wrong in a way I couldn't immediately explain. His body was stiff, unnatural, and then my eyes caught the detail that made my breath stop.
His neck.
It was bent at an angle no human could survive.
A cold feeling ran through me, settling deep in my chest.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He just stood there, watching me.
I should have been terrified.
I should have screamed or run or done something—anything—but I didn't.
Because this didn't feel entirely new.
A strange familiarity settled over me, something I couldn't explain.
For years, there had been moments—dreams that felt too real, voices that disappeared before I could understand them, the feeling that I wasn't ever truly alone. I had ignored all of it, convincing myself it was nothing.
But this…
This wasn't nothing.
This was real.
I swallowed, my fingers tightening slightly around the bedsheet.
"Who are you?" I asked quietly.
For a second, nothing happened.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
And then—
He moved.
Just one step.
My body froze instantly.
Every instinct told me to move, to get away, but I couldn't.
And then it happened.
A sudden image flashed through my mind.
A man standing at the edge of a building.
A misstep.
A fall.
The sound of something breaking.
Darkness.
I gasped, pulling back slightly as the vision disappeared just as quickly as it had come.
My breathing became uneven.
"What… was that?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
The figure stopped moving.
Still watching me.
And that's when it hit me.
That wasn't just a random image.
I hadn't imagined it.
I had seen something real.
I had seen how he died.
The realization settled slowly, but when it did, it made everything feel heavier.
My eyes locked onto him again, my thoughts racing.
This wasn't a person.
It was something else.
Something that shouldn't be here.
And somehow—
I could see it.
The air felt different, thicker, like something unfamiliar. The room didn't feel the same anymore.
It wasn't fear that settled in—it was something quieter, something harder to explain. The air felt still, almost aware, as if the space around me had shifted in a way I couldn't see but could somehow feel.
I looked at the figure again.
This time, something was different.
It wasn't just standing there.
It had… changed.
Not in form, not in shape—but in presence.
The stillness around it didn't feel natural anymore. It felt tense. Hesitant.
As if it was unsure.
My fingers loosened slightly from the bedsheet, my breathing steady, my eyes fixed on it. For some reason, I wasn't afraid. Confused, yes. Uncertain, definitely. But not afraid.
And that's when I noticed it.
The way it was looking at me.
Not blank. Not lost.
Focused.
Almost… cautious.
A strange thought crossed my mind, so quick and so absurd that I almost dismissed it instantly.
It wasn't watching me like I was the one who should be afraid.
It was watching me like I was the unknown.
I swallowed, my gaze narrowing just slightly.
"What are you…?" I whispered again, though I wasn't sure if I was asking it—or myself.
The figure didn't move forward this time.
Instead, it stepped back.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like it didn't want to get too close.
This wasn't normal.
None of this was.
I blinked once, and in that brief moment, the figure was gone.
Just like that.
The doorway stood empty again, silent and still as if nothing had ever been there.
I stared at it for a long moment, my thoughts refusing to settle into anything clear.
"Okay…" I exhaled quietly, running a hand through my hair. "That was… not normal."
Maybe I was just tired. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.
That had to be it.
I lay back down slowly, pulling the blanket over myself, trying to ignore the strange feeling lingering in the room.
But even as I closed my eyes—
One thought stayed with me.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Just a quiet, unsettling curiosity.
Because for a moment there…
It hadn't felt like I was the one being watched. I had one question in mind. If I was the one seeing it… why did it look like it was afraid of me?