Echoes of Solace

The knock came just after midnight. Three sharp, deliberate ramps that echoed through the apartment like a warning. I froze, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, heart hammering. No one should be here. Not at this hour. Not in my building.

“Hello?” My voice barely rose above a whisper. Silence answered, heavy and suffocating.

I should have ignored it. I should have gone back to bed, trying to convince myself it was a prank or a hallucination. But deep down, I knew better.

It had been months since Solace left, months since I had tried to convince myself I’d finally escaped the man I thought I loved. The man whose smile had been sunlight and whose touch had made the world safe. The man whose shadow had swallowed everything good between us.

Another knock. Louder. Insistent. My stomach tightened. I stepped toward the door, my bare feet brushing against the cold hardwood. Shadows stretched across the walls, bending unnaturally, as if the room itself were alive.

Then it came, a whisper, soft and rasping. Marlowe…

I spun, eyes wide, but the room was empty. Still, the air vibrated, heavy and cold. Another whisper: Why did you leave me…

My breath hitched. The smell of him hit me like a physical blow, Solace’s cologne, rich and warm, the scent that had once comforted me now choking me with fear. I stumbled backward. My pulse hammered in my ears.

The knocking came again, faster, louder, now seeming to come from inside the apartment. From inside my head. My mind throbbed with a thousand memories I had tried to bury—the late-night talks, the stolen kisses, the way he had smiled just before everything went wrong.

The door creaked. Slowly. Reluctantly. And then he appeared. Or what was left of him. Solace, pale and hollow, eyes blacker than memory, his smile stretched too wide, too cruel. He stepped through the doorway, and the room seemed to bend with him. Shadows slithered along the floor, crawling up the walls, reaching for me.

“You thought you could escape me, Marlowe,” he whispered, his voice a rasp that echoed in my mind. “I’ve been waiting. Always.”

I turned to run, but my legs refused to obey. The shadows twisted around my ankles, cold and suffocating. My chest tightened, and I realized I couldn’t breathe properly. Every breath I tried to take came out in little gasps, each one heavier than the last.

“I loved you,” he said, stepping closer, “I loved you enough to follow you… even after death.”

The knock started again, but this time it wasn’t just the door. It came from the walls, the floor, the ceiling, from inside me. My head throbbed with the rhythm of his voice—whispering, laughing, pleading. I covered my ears, but it only grew louder.

I stumbled into the living room, banging into the coffee table. A lamp toppled, but before it could hit the floor, it hovered midair, spinning slowly, suspended by some invisible force. The shadows around the room stretched into his shape, moving with him, reaching for me. I screamed.

Cold fingers brushed my shoulder. I spun, expecting him, but nothing was there. The air was thick, ice-cold, filled with his scent, his whispers, his presence. Every reflective surface, windows, mirrors, even my phone screen, showed him, always watching, always waiting.

I ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The knock followed. It thudded against the walls, against my chest, against my skull. I pressed my back against the door, shaking, tears streaming down my face.

“Please… leave me alone!” I cried, my voice raw.

But he wasn’t gone. His laughter echoed in the corners, soft and cruel. Then I heard it, the whisper of my own name from right behind me, though no one was there.

I spun, and he appeared in the mirror. Not the Solace I remembered. This one had hollow eyes, a twisted grin, and shadows crawling across his skin, like the darkness itself had taken form. He raised a hand, and the room plunged into total darkness.

I could feel him moving closer, each step dragging cold air along the floor, brushing my skin. I tried to run, but the apartment seemed endless. Hallways stretched beyond their usual length. Doors appeared where they had never been, leading to rooms I didn’t recognize. Each one whispered my name, each one promised terror, each one led me back to him.

I ducked into the kitchen, grabbed a knife from the drawer, and swung blindly. My hands passed through him. Through his chest. The cold seared my skin. He laughed, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“You can’t hide from me, Marlowe. Not ever.”

The knock came one last time, thunderous, violent, from the door I had thought would keep me safe. It wasn’t just a sound, it was a force, a presence, a reminder that I was never alone. That I had never truly left him.

And then the door burst open.

I screamed, but it was swallowed by the darkness. Solace stepped into the room, shadows crawling along the walls, around my ankles, rising to meet him. He leaned close, lips brushing my ear.

“I waited for you,” he whispered. “And now… you’re mine.”

The last thing I remember before the world went black was the cold, impossibly sharp grin, and his voice echoing inside my head.

“You can never leave me, Marlowe. Never.”

The door slammed shut.

And then… silence.