Missed me?

And Then, the Light Died

The light above her bed gave one last, pitiful flicker—then went out.

Darkness swallowed the room whole. Not the kind of dark that comes with night, but something thicker… alive. The kind that breathes when you do.

Aily froze under her blanket, her pulse hammering against the silence. The air felt wrong—heavy, cold, watching. She tried to reach for her phone, but her hand stopped midair when she heard it.

Breathing.

Not hers. Not from her.

From beside her.

Slow. Steady. Too close.

Her heart clenched as the mattress dipped, ever so slightly, like someone was sitting down. The air near her cheek stirred—warm, deliberate. The faint scent of vanilla slithered through the dark again, thick and choking, as if it came from someone’s skin, not the air.

She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare blink.

Then, a whisper brushed against her ear—low, mocking, almost gentle.

“You missed me last night.”

She flinched, biting back a cry. The voice came again, softer this time, threading through her mind like smoke.

“I told you… you can’t lock me out.”

Her breath caught as cold fingers trailed down the edge of her blanket—slow, tracing her outline like he was remembering her shape. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying it would stop, that it would vanish like before.

But this time, it didn’t.

Something shifted near her. The faint creak of the bed frame, the warmth of a presence leaning closer, until she could feel his breath mingling with hers.

Her trembling lips parted, barely able to whisper—

“Go away…”

A pause. Then, laughter—quiet, broken, and terrifyingly familiar.

“You said that last time too.”

The room pulsed with his words. The darkness seemed to thicken, drawing closer.

And then, something cold brushed her wrist—a hand. Solid. Real.

Her eyes snapped open.

But there was no light.

Only darkness staring back.

And somewhere inside it…

two faintly glowing eyes watching her, unblinking.