I snapped my eyes open suddenly after a nightmare.
Silence. Darkness.
I was lying in the guest room, the lavender blanket over me but it suddenly felt far too heavy, as if it were crushing my chest.
I wanted to turn, to get comfortable but my body wouldn't obey.
Nothing moved. No finger, no leg, no sound.
Only my eyes.
In the corner of the room I made out a shadow.
Like a figure, but without a face. Just the silhouette, motionless, yet as unmistakable as a black blot on white paper.
And it… was looking at me.
I knew it. I felt it.
The router's red standby light, the one Evelyn had switched off yesterday, blinked on. Once. Bright.
My heart raced, but no sound came from my throat.
It felt like someone was whispering right next to my ear and pressing on my chest.
A voice, barely audible and yet clear:
> "Rin…"
My stomach clenched.
I wanted to scream and cry, but my lips stayed sealed, as if someone had glued them shut.
I wept silently.
The shadow moved. A step? No… only the darkness thickened.
And then suddenly everything dissolved as the shadow leapt toward me and everything went black in a jolt.
The weight on my chest vanished, my fingers twitched, I gasped rasping air and, in an instant, sat upright in bed.
The red light was gone.
The corner… empty.
Sweat stuck to my forehead, my heart pounding wildly.
Had it been a dream?
A hallucination?
Or had someone really been in the room?
I cried from panic and fear.
I stared into the dark, barely daring to drop the blanket, and pulled it up to my face.
There was nothing.
Only silence. Only emptiness.
And in my head burned a single thought:
> Am I really not alone… or…?
The darkness still weighed on me when the door suddenly flew open.
A blinding strip of light from the hall cut into the room.
"Rin?!" Evelyn's voice sounded breathless and full of worry.
She rushed in, hair tousled as if she'd been wrenched out of sleep.
I blinked into the light, barely able to speak. My throat was dry, my lips trembled.
Tears streamed down my cheeks; I clung to the blanket like my life depended on it.
Evelyn was instantly at my side and knelt by the bed.
She placed her hands carefully on my shoulders warm and steady.
"Hey… hey, look at me. It's okay. You're safe. I'm here for you."
I shook my head and could only manage a hoarse whisper.
"Th-there was someone… in the corner. I couldn't move, Evelyn… I couldn't… I was so scared… I'm so scared."
She pulled me into her arms, gently, but it hurt somehow and I couldn't tell why.
"Shh… it was a dream. Just a dream."
Her voice was calm, firm almost like she was trying to convince me, or herself.
I buried my face in her shoulder and breathed her in: lavender and something bitter, maybe coffee.
But the image of the shadow still burned in the back of my mind.
That voice that had whispered my name.
It couldn't have been just a dream.
Evelyn stroked my back soothingly.
"Do you want me to stay here tonight?" she asked softly.
Her forehead touched mine for a moment a gesture so gentle it almost made me cry again.
I only nodded. Words were too heavy.
Evelyn straightened the blanket and sat down on the chair beside the bed.
"Then sleep. I'm here. No one's coming in while I'm awake."
She stayed and for a moment I wanted to believe her.
But from the corner of my eye I thought I saw a faint red glow in the hall again.
Just for a fraction of a second.
The night felt endless. I jolted awake repeatedly, convinced I'd heard footsteps in the hall, a creak in the wall, a rustle that didn't belong. But every time I glanced at Evelyn, she was still sitting there quiet, watchful, even as her eyelids grew heavy.
Eventually I did fall asleep.
When I opened my eyes, golden light streamed through the window. Evelyn had slumped in the chair, head against the backrest. She looked exhausted, but her face was peaceful. For a moment I felt guilty for keeping her up.
I sat up carefully. The lavender blanket lay lightly on me, no longer suffocating. But my gaze went immediately to the corner where I had seen the shadow.
Empty.
Everything empty.
Only for a moment a faint red glimmer flickered there again. Then it was gone.
My heart jumped. I blinked and rubbed my eyes.
Was it my imagination?
An echo of the night?
Before I could think longer, Evelyn stirred and sleepily lifted her head.
"Already awake?" she asked quietly, her voice still rough.
I nodded but could not find the words.
She stood up, stretched and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Then let's get ready. I'll drive you to school in a bit."
The morning went almost normally. Breakfast, coffee, the smell of toast like a ritual repeating itself to cover the night. But inside me it churned. Every corner, every shadow seemed charged with meaning.
A little later, sitting in the car, the sky hung gray over the town. Evelyn seemed composed, as if nothing had happened. But she glanced into the rearview mirror more often than necessary.
I tightened my seatbelt and stared out the window. As normal as things looked, I knew: it wasn't over yet.
When we arrived at school, everything seemed as usual. Students crowded the yard, laughing and talking over each other.
But for me it was different. Every glance that happened to fall my way seared itself into me. Every shadow seemed to linger longer than it should.
Evelyn parked close to the entrance and turned to me one more time.
"I'll pick you up later. Call me if anything happens, promise?" she said.
I nodded, though the words stuck in my throat.
The door closed behind me, and immediately the world felt louder and heavier. Evelyn's car rolled away and I was left.
Among all the voices, the chaos and the footsteps, I felt it again:
That feeling.
As if someone was fixing their gaze on me.
I swallowed, pulled my backpack higher and forced my legs to move forward.
But inside I knew:
It wasn't over.
The school day passed over me like wading through cotton.
My classmates' voices were there, but they didn't reach me. They laughed, told stories, made weekend plans while I sat silently at the edge, barely able to speak.
Each class felt twice as long. I stared at the board, but the chalk marks blurred. Again and again I caught myself staring out the window out at the yard, out into the distance, as if waiting for something.
At breaks I stayed alone. I scrolled my phone without purpose, through messages that felt meaningless. Evelyn kept texting, asking if I was okay. I kept replying with a short "Yes." Evelyn wasn't satisfied and asked if I was really okay. I answered, "Yes, really. It's fine."
I couldn't say more.
But the feeling at the back of my neck remained.
As if someone was fixating on me even though I never caught anyone looking when I turned quickly to check.