I Slept in My Friend’s House — And Woke Up Next to His Dead Body

I Slept in My Friend’s House — And Woke Up Next to His Dead Body

Ali was my childhood friend.

Kind, funny, a little strange.

We grew up on the same street, shared the same school bench, and even failed the same math tests.

But life happened.

We drifted apart.

Until one late night, after ten years, I received a message:

> “Bhai, come spend the night. Like old times.”

I had just moved back to town.

He insisted.

> “You’re not staying in a hotel. I’ve got a guest room. Clean and cursed-free.”

We both laughed.

If only I knew how wrong he was.

---

The Reunion

His house was bigger than I expected.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

No family photos.

No relatives.

Just silence and tea.

We stayed up late, talking about old memories.

The time we ran from dogs.

The time we climbed the school water tank.

At one point, he grew serious.

> “You ever feel like you were meant to die earlier… but forgot to?”

I laughed.

He didn’t.

Just stared at the teacup.

> “Anyway. You take my room. I’ll sleep in the lounge.”

I refused.

But he insisted.

---

The Room

At 2:45 AM, I lay in his bed.

There was a strange smell — like metal and earth.

I thought it was an old mattress.

I turned off the lamp.

Then… whispers.

Faint.

Like breath against the wall.

> “Not him… not yet.”

I sat up.

Nothing.

Silence again.

I blamed the tea.

Forced myself to sleep.

---

The Morning

When I opened my eyes, the sun was soft through the curtain.

I stretched.

Smiled.

Then turned left — and screamed.

Ali.

Cold. Still. Dead.

Lying beside me.

Eyes open.

Mouth slightly parted.

And blood seeping from his nose.

---

On the pillow between us…

A note.

Torn.

Bloody.

Shaking, I picked it up.

It said only:

> “Forgive me. It had to be you. But I couldn’t.”

My name was written in the corner.

In blood.

---

The Aftermath

I ran from the room.

Called an ambulance.

They arrived. Took him.

Police asked questions.

I answered like a man lost in fog.

No signs of injury.

No poison.

No heart attack.

Dead in sleep, they said.

But I know death.

And this…

was exchanged.

---

The Truth

Later, while helping clean out his things, I found a journal.

Buried behind books.

Its pages told a story I wasn’t ready for.

> “Every ten years, I must bring someone in.

Someone who knows me.

Sleep in my bed.

They take what waits. I stay free.”

> “In 2013, I brought Junaid.

He didn’t survive. They said it was suicide.

It wasn’t. It was them.”

> “2023. My turn again.

I couldn’t do it to a stranger.

So I called him.

My best friend.”

> “I hope he doesn’t read this.”

---

I shut the journal.

The air grew colder.

And I realized…

It had been me.

Ten years.

Exactly.

I was meant to die.

---

But I Didn’t

And that’s what worries me.

Because something else must have taken my place.

And every night since then…

I hear breathing beside me.

In empty rooms.

In silent corridors.

---

Once, I looked in the mirror and saw Ali.

Behind me.

Smiling.

---

He kept the curse.

He died for me.

Or maybe…

He let something else live through me.

---

Now I don’t sleep.

Because I don’t know…

If I’ll wake up alone again.

Or if one day…

I’ll be the body.