Chapter 1:“ friend request ” It started with a snap.Lena was alone in her apartment on a stormy Thursday night, scrolling aimlessly through Snapchat. She wasn't expecting any messages — most of her friends were out partying or asleep. But then, a new snap popped up from someone named "0nlyU".She didn’t recognize the username. No Bitmoji. No mutual friends.Curious, she opened it.It was a blurry photo of her — taken from outside her bedroom window. She gasped and spun around, but there was no one outside. Just rain tapping the glass.She snapped back:"Who is this?"Almost instantly, another snap arrived. It was a video now. Shaky, dark footage, slowly zooming in… on her front door. Then…Knocking.At that exact moment, there was a real knock at her door.Frozen, heart pounding, she backed away. Another snap came in. A photo this time — of her inside her apartment, standing by her couch, staring at her phone. Taken from behind.She bolted for her bedroom, locking the door. Dialed 911. Hands trembling.Before she could press call, her phone buzzed again. One final snap. A pitch-black screen. With a caption:"Why call them? I'm already inside."The last thing she heard was the soft click of her bedroom door unlocking.And the snap of a camera.---Would you like a version of this formatted for social media, or expanded into a longer story?Chapter 2 : Do not desturb By Yuziii MeraviLena’s body was never found.Three weeks later, Mia — her best friend — stood in Lena’s eerily quiet apartment. The landlord had finally agreed to let her in to collect Lena’s things. The rain was falling, just like that night. The door creaked shut behind her, the echo unnatural.She stepped over half-packed boxes and untouched dishes. Lena’s phone sat on the coffee table. Mia picked it up — the battery was dead, but somehow the screen lit up as soon as she touched it.A single notification appeared.Snapchat: 1 New MemoryThat wasn’t possible. The app shouldn’t even open.Compelled, Mia tapped it.A video started playing — Lena, filming herself, eyes wild and crying."He’s here. He keeps sending snaps. They delete themselves. He’s not... he's not human."Static.Then: a blurry frame. A pale face in the dark behind her. The figure raised its phone — and Lena screamed.The screen went black.Mia dropped the phone.It buzzed again. A new snap. But this time, it was sent to her.She hesitated, then opened it.It was a live image — her, standing in Lena’s apartment.And behind her…A man with long hair. Holding a phone. Smiling.Mia spun around. Nothing. No one there.Another snap came in.“Don’t worry. You’re next.”Suddenly, her own phone buzzed too. She looked down.Snapchat is now using your location Chapter 3 : “Ghost in the feed” Mia ran. Down the stairs, out into the rain, heart slamming against her ribs like a warning drum. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The feeling was there — something was following her, not quite physical but close enough to breathe against her neck.At home, she locked every door, turned on every light, and deleted Snapchat from her phone.It didn’t matter.A soft ding echoed from her kitchen — the sound of a notification.She stared at her phone.Snapchat was still there.Installed.Open.She tapped it.A new friend request. From 0nlyU.Mia backed away from her phone like it had turned to fire. She tried to turn it off — nothing happened. The screen stayed lit.Then the camera turned on.It wasn’t showing her face.It was showing her bedroom. From inside her closet.The door creaked slightly.She stared in horror as the camera feed slowly moved, panning toward the closet door. Something was breathing behind it — she could hear it now, ragged and hungry.And then... it whispered:“You watched. Now you belong.”Her phone screen glitched — then turned pitch black.---The next day, police found Mia’s apartment empty. Lights on. No signs of a struggle. No Mia.Just her phone on the bed. Snapchat open.And one story saved under her account.It was a short video.Of her.Standing by her closet.Smiling.And whispering:“Tag. You're it.” Chapter 4: “The Viewer” The video autoplayed as soon as Damien opened the link. He hadn’t meant to click it. It just… popped up in his group chat. No sender. No message. Just a video titled: "She’s not alone." The footage was shaky — a girl crying in the dark, clutching a phone. He recognized her. Mia. She went missing two days ago. Damien recoiled. This had to be fake. Edited. Viral horror bait. But the moment he closed the video, his phone buzzed. Snapchat notification. "0nlyU added you." He laughed nervously. "Okay, this is some ARG," he muttered. "Weird, but clever." Then his screen lit up. "1 new snap from 0nlyU." Against better judgment, he opened it. It was a photo. Of him. At that exact moment — sitting on his couch, phone in hand, staring at the screen. He froze. There was no one else in the room The video autoplayed as soon as Damien opened the link.He hadn’t meant to click it. It just… popped up in his group chat...

I woke up at 4:00 a.m. again. Not because I had to. Because I chose to.There’s a war going on inside me. Every morning, every breath, every decision — a clash between the man I am and the beast I’m becoming.They call it "mind," like it’s some quiet space of peace and thoughts. But where is it really?I found mine in the fire.I remember the boy I used to be — soft, scared, hiding behind excuses, blaming the world. I hated him. Not because he was weak, but because he believed he had time. Time to change, time to be great. But time is a liar. It feeds you comfort, then guts you in your sleep.So I killed that boy.What rose from his ashes is something different. Not better. Just real.The mirror doesn’t lie anymore. It shows a man who forged his soul in silence. The kind of silence that deafens you. No applause. No cheers. Just sweat, steel, and solitude.People see results. They don’t see the 4:00 a.m. alarms, the broken bones, the lost relationships. They don't see the war.Discipline is not a choice for me. It’s survival.I don’t crave motivation. Motivation fades. What I need is obedience to the code: Do what must be done. Every day.Even when I'm bleeding. Especially then.I remember one night, training alone, rain cutting like knives across my face. My body screamed to stop. My mind whispered, one more. So I did one more. Then one more again.And when I collapsed to the ground, gasping, freezing, a broken version of myself... I smiled. Because he was dead again — that weak voice in me. And I was alive.They ask me, “Why push so hard? Why so serious?”Because average is a disease. Because comfort kills. Because this world only respects one language: power.Not power over others. Power over self. Over that soft voice that says, just today, take it easy.That voice is a liar.I silence it with reps. With wounds. With sleepless nights. With sacrifice. With tears no one sees.Because I don’t chase dreams. I drag them out of the shadows and beat the hell out of them until they submit.This is not inspiration. This is war. And the battlefield is me.My doubts. My limits. My fears. My mind.So where is mind?Right here. In every scream I swallow. In every scar I earn. In every second I refuse to be less.Where is mind?Here. And it’s not done yet.