The first knock came at 2:17 a.m.
Evan was still awake, lying flat on his back, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that looked like a lightning bolt. He'd been counting the hums of the refrigerator in the next room, telling himself it was noise, not silence, that kept him from sleeping.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three soft raps. Polite. Almost careful.
Evan froze.
He lived alone. No friends dropped by unannounced—especially not at two in the morning. His parents lived four states away. The neighbors kept to themselves. The building itself was old, the kind where pipes groaned and floors complained, but this wasn't that. This was intentional.
He waited.
Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute.
Nothing.
Evan told himself it was someone at the wrong door. Maybe a drunk neighbor. Maybe a delivery driver who couldn't read numbers in the dark. His heart eventually slowed, though it never quite returned to normal.
He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket up, and shut his eyes.
The second knock came at 2:19 a.m.
This one was louder.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Same rhythm. Same careful spacing.
Evan sat up.
"Hello?" he called, hating how thin his voice sounded.
Silence answered him.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. The apartment felt colder than it should have. As he moved toward the door, he noticed the hallway light was off. He didn't remember turning it off.
He reached the door and leaned close, listening.
Breathing.
Not his.
Someone was on the other side. Breathing slowly, deliberately, like they knew he was there and were waiting for him to realize it.
Evan stepped back.
"Who is it?" he asked.
The breathing stopped.
A pause stretched long enough for his skin to prickle.
Then a voice spoke—low, calm, and unfamiliar.
"Evan Carter," it said. "You forgot something."
Every muscle in his body locked.
"How do you know my name?" he demanded.
No answer.
He backed away until his shoulders hit the opposite wall. His mind raced through possibilities—scams, mistakes, sick jokes—but none of them explained how the voice sounded so certain, so patient.
"I'm calling the police," Evan said.
A soft chuckle came through the door.
"They won't make it in time," the voice replied. "They didn't last time."
The words landed heavy, though Evan didn't know why.
"What do you want?" he whispered.
Another pause. Then:
"For you to open the door."
Evan shook his head, even though the person couldn't see it.
"I'm not doing that."
"That's okay," the voice said. "You didn't last time either."
The hallway lights flickered on.
Evan's breath caught.
Under the door, a shadow stretched across the floor—too long, too thin. It shifted slightly, as if whoever stood there had leaned closer.
"Do you remember the third knock?" the voice asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Evan said.
"That's the problem."
The lights went out again.
The third knock came at 2:21 a.m.
This time, it wasn't at the door.
It came from inside the apartment.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Behind him.
Evan spun around.
His bedroom door—closed moments ago—shuddered under three gentle raps.
The air smelled wrong suddenly. Old. Metallic.
"No," Evan breathed.
The voice spoke again, now directly beside his ear.
"You always forget the third knock."
The bedroom door creaked open.
And the lights came on.
Evan woke up screaming.
Sunlight flooded the room. His alarm clock read 7:00 a.m. His sheets were twisted around him, damp with sweat. His heart hammered so hard it hurt.
A dream.
Just a dream.
He laughed shakily and rubbed his face. Nightmares happened. Stress did that. He'd been working too much, sleeping too little. The mind filled in the gaps with monsters.
He swung his legs out of bed and froze.
There were three fresh dents in the wood of his bedroom door.
Small. Rounded.
Like knuckles.
And on his nightstand sat his phone, screen lit with a single notification:
Unknown Contact:
2:21 a.m. — You opened it last time.
Evan stared at the message until the screen went dark.
Then, from the hallway, came a soft, familiar sound.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The clock ticked over.
2:17 a.m.
Again.
If you want:
a shorter version
a twistier ending
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