It’s Not Human: Trapped in Apartment 604 / Chapter 2: Something Inhuman
It’s Not Human: Trapped in Apartment 604

It’s Not Human: Trapped in Apartment 604

Author: Amanda Reyes

Chapter 2: Something Inhuman

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That message made my skin crawl.

My phone started buzzing nonstop—dozens of people typing at once:

“Seriously? This photo doesn’t look human at all. Did you use AI to mess with us?”

“Come on, quit joking, man. No way there’s some skinwalker running around here. You’ve watched too many creepy TikToks.”

“It’s so late—this photo’s giving me the chills.”

“Man, you’re seriously freaking me out. I’m about to call 911 if you keep this up.”

...

But inside my apartment, everything felt different. The faded Red Sox cap by the door, the pizza box from last night still on the counter, the cheap linoleum tiles under my feet—all suddenly felt like set dressing for a horror movie. Every little sound echoed too loud. My PlayStation controller felt like a brick in my hands. Shadows under the bookshelf crawled across the floor. That photo stuck to my mind, cold and sticky as sweat.

I didn’t want to game anymore.

I quickly went AFK, sat up in bed, and crept over to the door.

If something as bizarre as that not-human had really gotten into the building, I wasn’t about to risk my life on a bet.

My bare feet pressed against the cold linoleum as I pressed my ear to the door, holding my breath. Even the fridge’s hum felt far away, like I was underwater.

After all, the person in the photo was wearing two pairs of shoes. The sound of high heels wouldn’t exactly be subtle…

My phone kept buzzing with new messages.

202 tagged @401, the one who sent the photo:

“Dude, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Did you get scared after someone threatened to call the cops? Came to your senses now?”

701 chimed in: “Tch, I knew you were just trying to spook people.”

No matter who tagged @401, he didn’t reply.

Seeing that, I let out a shaky breath.

I gave a nervous laugh, trying to convince myself I was being ridiculous—letting a blurry photo and some bored neighbors get to me.

Yeah, I was being dumb—how could anyone actually look like that?

Maybe, like everyone said, it was just a prank with some AI filter slapped on.

But then 401 suddenly sent a string of voice messages, his voice low and shaking:

“You’d better believe me.”

“This thing isn’t stupid. It left at first, but it came back when I let my guard down.”

“If I hadn’t run, I’d be dead.”

“I’m done for now. Need to catch my breath.”

His voice messages rattled out, tense and raw, panic bleeding through every syllable. Heavy breathing. The kind of fear you can’t fake.

After a few messages, I was convinced.

Because just then, I heard it—the alternating clack of dress shoes and high heels, echoing through the silent hallway.

My mind scrambled for an explanation, but all I could think of was every horror movie I’d ever watched alone at night.

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