New House

When I moved into my new home, I felt excited and hopeful. It was a small apartment in a quiet neighborhood, a place where I could start anew after struggling through a difficult time. However, just a week later, that excitement began to fade. A strange feeling, as if someone was watching me, started to creep into my mind. At first, I tried to ignore it, but the sensation grew stronger. I couldn't sleep, dark circles appeared under my eyes, and my exhaustion made it hard to focus.

Zoey, my kind-hearted friend, noticed how tired I looked and invited me to stay over for a few nights. During those evenings at her place, I heard a terrifying story about my new home. It was said that a serial killer had once lived there. No one knew exactly how many people he had killed, but everyone agreed that he suffered from severe narcissism. He couldn't sleep without feeling that someone was watching him. In the end, he was caught when police discovered he had built a dummy to feel like he had an audience. The horrifying part was that the dummy wasn't just a lifeless object; he had killed a 17-year-old girl and used her body to satisfy his twisted desire.

The story sent chills down my spine. When I returned home, the feeling of being watched intensified. Despite my attempts to reassure myself, I felt as though hundreds of eyes were glued to my every move. Whether I was in the kitchen or sitting on the sofa, I sensed someone lurking in the shadows, staring intently at me.

One morning, while making breakfast, I suddenly felt that gaze upon me. In a panic, I threw the kitchen knife, and it lodged itself into the wall. When I pulled it out, I saw a pair of eyes floating in a small glass jar, preserved in formaldehyde. I couldn't believe my eyes, as if the horrific tale had materialized right before me.

Now, I sit in silence in the kitchen, watching the police peel back layers of my home’s walls. They are searching for clues about the strange occurrences here. So far, they have discovered 142 pairs of eyes in small glass jars, all staring directly at me, as if they are monitoring my every move. I can't shake the feeling that I am living in a never-ending nightmare, where the dark past of this house has returned to haunt me, and perhaps I will never escape it.