It was a little after midnight when Ethan heard the knock.
Soft. Rhythmic. Three slow taps.
He paused his game and pulled off his headset, listening. His apartment was on the third floor of a secured building. No one should be knocking at this hour.
Another three taps.
Ethan hesitated. His phone was next to him, but he didn’t want to call anyone just yet. It was probably a mistake—a drunk neighbor at the wrong door. It happened before.
Still, something about the knock unsettled him. He wasn’t sure why.
He stood up and walked to the peephole, pressing his eye against it.
Nothing.
No one was there.
A shiver ran down his spine. He stepped back from the door, his heart picking up its pace. He knew he had heard it. He wasn’t imagining things.
He reached for his phone, considering texting someone, when—
Three more knocks.
Louder this time.
His breath hitched.
Slowly, he moved back to the peephole. His stomach twisted as he looked again.
Still nothing.
The hallway was empty.
He stood frozen for a few seconds, then exhaled sharply and stepped away. His mind raced through rational explanations. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe someone knocked and ran.
Or maybe… he was losing it.
Then his phone buzzed.
A text from his downstairs neighbor, Jess.
“Hey, do NOT open your door. Someone weird is in the building.”
Ethan’s hands went cold. He quickly typed back.
“What do you mean? Someone knocked at my door.”
The three dots appeared instantly. Then a reply.
“I don’t know who they are, but I saw them on my way up. They were just standing at the entrance, not moving, staring at the buzzer like they were waiting. I didn’t want to go near them. Something felt… wrong.”
Ethan swallowed hard. His apartment door was locked. He double-checked it just to be sure.
Another text.
“I saw them from my peephole just now. They knocked on 203. They’re just… standing there.”
Ethan’s stomach clenched. Apartment 203 was next door.
Then, as if on cue—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Right at his door.
His heart pounded in his ears. Slowly, he reached for the peephole again, feeling dread curl around his chest like a vice.
This time, someone was there.
But something was wrong with them.
The person stood inches from the peephole, too close, their face half-obscured by the tiny lens. What little he could see didn’t look right. Their skin was too pale, lips stretched just a little too wide, eyes dark and unfocused. Their breathing was slow. Measured.
They didn’t move.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t blink.
Just stood there.
Ethan took a shaky step back, his instincts screaming at him to not open the door.
Another text from Jess.
“They’re still standing outside 203. They haven’t moved.”
Ethan’s breath caught.
His stomach dropped.
Slowly, he turned back toward the peephole.
The person was still there.
Knocking.
Smiling.
Without thinking, Ethan grabbed his phone and typed with shaking fingers.
“I think there’s more than one.”
Jess’s reply came immediately.
“What? What do you mean?”
But Ethan couldn’t answer.
Because from inside his apartment—
Somewhere behind him—
Three slow knocks echoed from the bedroom door.