Thomas and his wife Claire had just moved into an old brick apartment building on the quiet outskirts of Chicago. The rent was cheap, the neighbors were few, and the streets were silent at night. They loved it. At least, at first.
For the first week, everything was perfect. Then the sounds started.
It began with faint footsteps above them—slow, deliberate steps that seemed to drag slightly at the end. At first, they thought someone had moved in upstairs, but when Claire asked the landlord, he blinked and said, "Nobody's up there. That unit's been vacant for months."
They tried to ignore it. Maybe the sound carried from the building next door. Maybe it was old pipes or raccoons in the ceiling. But then came the dragging. Long, slow dragging sounds across the floor above. At 2:43 a.m. every night.
Thomas tried recording it. But every playback came back as corrupted static—just a hissing white noise that sent chills down Claire's spine.
One afternoon, while sorting through books in the bedroom, Claire found a loose panel behind the wall. Hidden inside was an old, black-and-white photograph. Dated 1976.
It showed four people standing in front of the building. One of them looked exactly like Thomas.
On the back, handwritten in faint pencil, it said:
"Unit 3B – He always comes back."
Claire showed it to Thomas, expecting shock. He laughed. "Creepy, but it's probably just a guy who looks like me."
Still, she noticed a change in him. He started sleepwalking. Something he hadn't done since childhood. Always toward the staircase leading upstairs.
One night, Claire followed him. He moved silently up the steps and stood in front of Unit 3B—the supposedly empty apartment. Then, without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.
He unlocked the door and walked inside.
Claire waited, heart pounding, then stepped in after him.
The air was still and icy cold. Dust hung in the light like mist. Furniture sat in place, untouched by time. On the walls were dozens of photographs, all black-and-white. All of the same man. Different years. Different clothes. But the same face.
Thomas's face.
In some, he was laughing. In others, screaming. One showed him digging something in a yard. One had him covered in blood. The most recent one… was of Claire.
It had been taken from behind, as she sat at her desk. Two days earlier.
She turned toward the wall and saw something written in red paint—no, not paint. It dripped too thick.
It read:
"HE NEVER LEFT."
She dragged Thomas out of the apartment. He only woke up after they were back in their unit. He didn't remember anything.
The next day, Claire began searching city records. She found that Unit 3B once belonged to a man named Thomas Adler. Arrested in 1977 for the murder of three women. The charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. He disappeared shortly after.
The photo Claire had found was dated 1976.
So how was her Thomas in it?
She booked a hotel. Begged Thomas to come with her. He said yes.
But that night, while she packed, Thomas vanished.
She heard the door creak upstairs.
Police searched Unit 3B.
It was completely empty. No furniture. No photographs. No Thomas.
Only one thing remained:
A freshly printed black-and-white photo on the dusty floor.
Claire. Sitting at her desk.
This time, her eyes were missing.