IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

I wasn't asleep when the first knock came. That was the first time I noticed - how my mind was already awake, already counting the seconds between the ticking of the clock and the sound that followed.I lay still in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, my phone glowing faintly beside me. 2:16a.m I held my breath. The knock came exactly as it always did Three slow taps. Not hurried. Not loud. As whoever stood at the other side of the door knew I was listening. My chest tightened.I didn't move. I didn't even blink.The room felt smaller somehow, the silence heavier, pressing against my ears until it rang.I counted again-a habit I'd picked up weeks ago, maybe months.I wasn't sure anymore. One. Two. Three. No foot steps followed, no retreating sounds.Just the echo of the knock, lingering in the air like a question I refused to answer. I told myself what I always tell myself at night like this: It's nothing. Old pipes. A restless house.My imagination feeding on sleepless nights. But the problem is, imagination do not knock with intention, heavy intention. I turned my head to the slowly to the door,half expecting to see the knob move, to give me something to accompany the fear howling inside of me.It didn't. Still, my heart beat as it had. I could almost hear it-loud , uneven, betraying me, contradicting the brave I try to mask myself with. When the silence returned it didn't bring relief, it never did, cause it always came with it's own luggage. Silence only meant waiting for next time. I reached for my phone and checked the time again, even though I already knew. 2:17a.m The same as last night. And the night before that. I sat up, pulling the covers around me like an armor, like it could save me from the evil outside my door. Somewhere deep inside,a memory stirred-not a picture, not a face, but a feeling.The kind that crawls under your skin and stays there. The kind you, I, spend years pretending doesn't exist. Don't think about it, I warn myself. I swung my legs off the bed and stood,my feet cold against the tile floor.The door was only a few steps away, but it might as well be a million miles. I didn't open it. I never do. Instead, I waited. Like I could face what knocked on my door if it finds it's way in. So I waited, because some door's, once opened never shuts again