There is somebody else here

I moved into this apartment exactly one month ago. There are still boxes in the living room that I haven’t unpacked and I am still using plastic cutlery for dinner. I can’t bring myself to decorate the place, to buy everything else that I need to. I can’t even bring myself to take out the trash.

This place is haunted.

I felt it from the first moment I closed the front door behind me and locked it. There is somebody else here with me, living in my house, breathing the same air as me. The walls seem to know the apartment’s secret. There are whispers and wails coming from behind them. I think they are trying to tell me something. But anytime I try to listen closely, they fall silent.

I am alone most of the time. That doesn’t mean I’m lonely. It only means that I don’t have too many people in my life. No family, no friends, only a few work colleagues that I am friendly with. But nobody to miss me. Nobody to check on me. Nobody that I can share this with. Nobody that would believe me anyway.

The apartment is big enough for one person. The living room is spacious and has a large window. My bedroom consists of one wardrobe, one desk and one bed. I’m sure it could be lovely with some effort and some decorating.

But I can’t do any of that until I find out who else is in here with me.

The first incident happened on my first night. I was ready to go to sleep. I turned off the lights in my room and that’s when I felt it. There was something, or someone, behind me. I heard it, felt its breath against my ear, felt a cold sensation sweep all over my body.

But when I turned around and switched the lights back on, there was nothing there.

A few nights after that, it happened again. I was lying in bed, counting sheep and trying to fall asleep. Suddenly, I heard someone flush the toilet. The sound of the water rushing through the pipes echoed in the walls. Then the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. Footsteps in the hallway.

I jumped to my feet and grabbed my phone.

“Whoever is there, I’m calling the police!” I yelled so loud that I felt my lungs burn.

I turned all the lights on and searched the entire house, which didn’t take too long. I even checked behind the fridge and in the cupboard under the sink.

There was nobody here.

I did end up calling the police and they came. Two chubby officers who looked at me like I was crazy.

“You were probably just falling asleep and your mind played a trick on you, it happens all the time.”

But I knew that this was different. This apartment was different. I felt it again as I closed the door behind the police officers. A rush of coldness and stillness almost paralyzing my body.

Someone was in the house. Someone was playing with me.

You’re probably wondering why I didn’t leave then. Why I didn’t move to a new place. There were two reasons for that. The first reason was that I was too young and too poor to afford to move again.

The second reason was because I knew that even if I moved, it would follow me. Whatever this was, it had belonged to the apartment. But now that I was here, it belonged to me too.

I ordered a set of cameras off the internet. They were quite expensive, but I needed them. I needed to see what was going on in my apartment. They arrived a few days later and I called an electrician to install them. One camera in every corner of every room, even in the hallway and the bathroom. The guy looked at me funny and tried to explain that only one camera in each room would work, but I cut him off. He didn’t know. He couldn’t understand.

The cameras are connected to my phone. Each night I lie in my bed and watch the footage from that day. For a few weeks, there was nothing. It’s like it knew that I was watching. That I was waiting.

I started to feel like a fool. Maybe it really was all in my head. But I waited, checking the footage every night. Nothing came.

Until tonight.

I got back home from work, exhausted and tired. I didn’t bother to turn on the lights. I dragged my feet to my bedroom and jumped in bed.

I took out my phone and pressed play on the recordings.

It was there.

From the moment I left for work this morning and closed the door behind me, a figure appeared. A dark figure that was built like a person but seemed to glide instead of walk. They were in the living room and had their hands over their face like someone playing peekaboo.

I watched the footage roll on fast-forward throughout the day. Shadows drifted across the wall as the sun outside moved downward. But the figure just stood there motionless. Hands still over their face.

The footage stopped fast-forwarding. The time code showed it was about thirty-seconds before I arrived home. The figure perked up, hearing my arrival. As I saw myself unlocking the front door, the figure moved from the living room to the bedroom.

They dropped to their knees, hands still covering their face. In one quick motion they fell to their side and rolled under the bed.

They rolled under the bed.

They rolled under the bed that I am currently lying on.

I am writing this on my phone in case someone ever finds it. I know it’s too late for me now.

There is somebody else here with me.

And they have been waiting.