Elena returned home later than usual, her steps slow and heavy as she unlocked the door to her apartment. The hallway lights flickered briefly before settling, casting long shadows across the floor. She paused for a second before stepping inside, her fingers tightening around her keys.
The note was still on her mind.
No matter how hard she tried to push it away during work, it lingered in the background of every thought. The words replayed themselves over and over, soft yet threatening in a way she couldn't explain.
Take care of yourself. I will always be here.
She shut the door behind her and locked it, then checked it again. Once. Twice. Only then did she let out the breath she had been holding since leaving work.
Her apartment felt quiet. Too quiet.
Elena dropped her bag on the chair and kicked off her shoes. Her body ached with tension, her shoulders stiff, her head still dull from the stress of the day. She needed warmth. Something familiar. Something that could calm her nerves, even if only for a little while.
She ran a bath.
The sound of water filling the tub echoed through the bathroom, steady and comforting. Steam slowly rose, fogging the mirror as she undressed and stepped in. The heat wrapped around her body, loosening muscles she hadn't realized were clenched.
For a few minutes, she allowed herself to close her eyes.
But even there, even surrounded by warmth, her thoughts wouldn't slow. The man from the bar. The way he had looked at her. The note on the floor. The feeling—no, the certainty—that someone had been close. Too close.
She sank deeper into the water, hugging her knees to her chest.
I'm just tired, she told herself. Anyone would feel like this.
When the water began to cool, she got out, dried off, and dressed in comfortable clothes. She moved to the kitchen and prepared a simple dinner, barely tasting it as she ate. Each bite felt mechanical, forced. Her mind wasn't there.
Halfway through the meal, a thought struck her so suddenly she froze.
The corridor.
The CCTV.
Her heart began to race.
She straightened slowly in her chair, staring at the wall as the idea took shape. The building had cameras. If someone had dropped the note at her door, then it would have been caught on video.
"Yes… CCTV," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I'll check from there."
She pushed her chair back and stood up so fast it scraped loudly against the floor. Her appetite vanished completely. Grabbing her coat, she didn't bother cleaning up. She just needed answers.
The walk to the landlady's apartment felt longer than usual. Every sound made her flinch. Every footstep behind her—real or imagined—sent a jolt of fear through her spine. She kept her head down, her pace quick, keys clutched tightly in her hand.
When she reached the door, she hesitated before knocking.
What if I'm overreacting?
But the memory of the note hardened her resolve. She knocked.
The landlady answered after a moment, her expression shifting to mild surprise when she saw Elena standing there, tense and pale.
"Good evening," Elena said, forcing politeness into her voice. "I'm sorry to bother you so late."
The landlady waved it off and stepped aside. "It's fine. What's wrong?"
Elena swallowed. "I wanted to ask about the corridor CCTV. I… I need to check something."
The landlady frowned slightly but nodded. "Alright. Come in."
They moved toward the small monitor in the corner of the room. Elena's heart pounded louder with every step. This was it. Proof. Or relief.
The landlady pressed a few buttons, squinting at the screen.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
"That's strange," the landlady muttered, tapping the monitor lightly. "It was working the last time I checked. Just last week."
Elena's chest tightened.
"Working… last week?" she repeated quietly.
The landlady sighed. "Yes. It must have stopped recently. Maybe a wiring issue."
Elena felt cold spread through her body, creeping into her arms and legs. Her mouth went dry.
"So… there's no footage?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
The landlady shook her head. "I'm afraid not."
For a moment, Elena couldn't move. The room felt smaller. The walls closer. If the camera had stopped working recently—when exactly had it stopped working?
She forced a nod. "I see. Thank you."
Her voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.
She didn't stay to talk. She didn't ask more questions. Fear urged her to leave, to get back to her apartment where she could lock the door and hide from the world.
She said goodbye quickly and stepped back into the hallway.
The walk back felt unbearable.
Every shadow stretched too long. Every sound echoed too sharply. She kept glancing behind her, her pulse racing, but the corridor was empty. Still, the feeling remained.
She reached her door, unlocked it with shaking hands, and rushed inside, slamming it shut behind her. She locked it. Then locked it again.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe.
She leaned against the door for a moment before moving to the bed. Her legs felt weak as she sank down, staring up at the ceiling. The lantern on her bedside table glowed softly, casting familiar patterns across the room. Normally, she turned it off before sleeping.
Tonight, she left it on.
Sleep wouldn't come.
The room felt warm—too warm. The air heavy. She shifted under the covers, restless, her skin prickling with discomfort. Her thoughts wouldn't stop spiraling.
The CCTV not working wasn't just bad luck. It felt intentional. Targeted.
Her chest tightened.
She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. "I just need air," she whispered.
She crossed the room and opened the window slightly, letting the cool night breeze brush against her face. She leaned forward, peering outside into the dimly lit street below.
And then she saw it.
A shadow.
It moved quickly, just at the edge of her vision, slipping out of sight as if it knew she was watching.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
She didn't question it this time. She didn't try to explain it away.
She had seen it.
Elena gasped and slammed the window shut, her hands shaking so badly she struggled with the latch. She pulled the curtains closed, cutting off the outside world completely. Her breath came fast and shallow as panic surged through her.
She rushed back to the bed, turned off the lantern, and dove under the covers, pulling them over her head, over her face, over everything.
Darkness.
Her body trembled uncontrollably. She pressed her hands over her ears, as if that could somehow block out the fear. Every sound—the hum of electricity, the distant noise of traffic—felt amplified.
She stayed there, frozen, barely daring to breathe.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time lost its meaning.
Eventually, exhaustion crept in. Her body, overwhelmed by fear and tension, began to surrender. Her thoughts slowed. Her grip on the blanket loosened.
Sleep claimed her quietly, even as dread lingered deep in her chest.
And somewhere , beyond the walls, something watched.