I don't really have friends. I'm 30, single, and I work night shifts. That's been my life for a while just me and my job. No hobbies, no social life. Just work, sleep, repeat. I used to tell myself that it's better this way. Simpler. But now, I'm not so sure.
This all started on a regular night, around 10 PM. I was waiting at the bus stop like I always do. It was quiet, dark, and honestly kind of peaceful—until the bus pulled up.
I got on and immediately felt... something was off.
There was this old man sitting near the window. His clothes were falling apart, and he looked sick skin pale, eyes sunken. He didn't move. He didn't blink. He just stared at me.
I felt a chill crawl down my spine, so I went to the back of the bus, trying to ignore him. But the whole ride, I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't even want to turn around.
Eventually, the bus stopped. I didn't even wait to see where we were I just wanted to get off.
But when I stepped outside…
I was right back at the same bus stop where I'd started.
I looked around, completely lost. I thought maybe I was just exhausted. Maybe the bus looped around and I didn't notice. But the doors were still open, and something told me to get back on.
This time, I sat next to a man holding a backpack. He looked normal like someone going to work but his face... he looked dead tired. Hollow. Like he hadn't slept in weeks. His skin was pale, almost grey.
I forced a nervous smile. "Hey, uh... you good? I work night shifts too. I'm Jason," I said.
He didn't say a word. Just stared at me. His eyes were wide, and he looked shocked to see me, like I was the strange one.
That's when I started to panic.
I stood up and shouted, "Stop the bus! Let me off!"
Nothing. The driver didn't even glance back.
I screamed louder. Begged. My chest tightened and my hands shook. I yelled until my throat hurt.
Then the bus jerked to a stop.
I didn't think. I just ran and jumped out the door.
My foot hit the pavement
And I was back in my seat.
Same position. Same bus. Same two passengers staring at me.
I couldn't breathe. I started sweating, crying. I screamed again, over and over, "LET ME OUT! PLEASE!"
But the bus didn't stop.
The old man stood up. His eyes glowed red. Blood leaked down his face. His mouth twisted into something that didn't even look human anymore.
Then he lunged at me.
I pushed him shoved him hard toward the door. I was falling too, but I didn't care. I just wanted off.
But the second I fell
I was back in my seat.
Again.
I don't know how long I've been here. Days? Weeks? I stopped keeping track. I don't even scream anymore.
I just sit here, holding my backpack tight. It's the only thing that still feels real.
My body's wasting away. I can feel it. I barely recognize myself. My reflection in the window looks hollow. Dead.
And then, just now, the bus doors opened.
A man ran inside panicked and sat next to me.
He turned to me and stuttered, "Ah… hey, are you okay? I work night shifts… My name's Jason."
My name.
My face.
I looked to the front of the bus.
The old man is sitting near the window again.
And now I understand.
I've become part of this.
I am this.
And he will be next.