The Whisper Room 2

Chapter 2: Something Waiting

For days after that, I tried to pretend it hadn’t happened.

I stayed inside my apartment, kept my music playing loud, avoided looking down the hallway at all.

But the house didn’t let me forget.

Every night, just past three, I would hear the knob turning, the door creaking as if pushed gently open, though when I cracked my own door to peek, it remained firmly closed—at least to my eyes.

It wasn't until the fifth night that I made the mistake.

Sleep-deprived and angry at myself for being afraid, I grabbed a flashlight and marched down the hallway, heart hammering against my ribs. The closer I got to the door, the colder the air became, a chill so deep it made my breath fog even inside.

When I laid my hand on the knob, it felt slick with something I didn’t want to think about.

Still, I turned it.

The door swung inward without a sound.

Inside, there was no room. No floor, no walls, no ceiling—just darkness, endless and churning, and a feeling of falling forward even though my feet hadn't moved.

A shape stepped toward me, pulling itself free from the black. It wasn’t human—at least, not anymore. Its face was a stretched, glistening thing, features half-melted, its mouth opening in a too-wide grin filled with teeth that didn't seem to end.

It leaned close enough that I could smell it—damp earth, rot, and something sharp like rusted metal.

And then it whispered.

"Trade places with me."

I stumbled back, heart pounding so loud I couldn’t hear my own scream, slammed the door shut, and ran.

But now, every night, I hear footsteps outside my apartment.

They start from the last door and stop right in front of mine.

I don't know how long I can keep pretending I don't hear the knocking.

And deep down, I think...

one night, I'll open the door again.