Chapter 2: The Thing Next Door

A series of knocks rattled the cheap wood, echoing in my chest like a second heartbeat. My pulse spiked, cold and sharp.

I got up, about to call out, but then remembered the chilling warning from my computer screen. I hesitated, frozen halfway between the desk and the hallway.

So, barefoot, I crept to the door, my toes curling on the cool linoleum. My heart hammered in my ears as I peered through the peephole.

Mr. Fisher.

It was my neighbor from across the hall, Mr. Fisher, knocking on my door. At this hour?

The longer I stared, the more my stomach twisted. Mr. Fisher, who usually just nodded and mumbled hello on the way to his mailbox, now looked like he'd stepped straight out of a nightmare. His eyes were empty, mouth twisted in that same grotesque grin from the photo.

Wasn’t this exactly like the photo just now? It felt like someone had copy-pasted that image straight into real life.

I froze, body rigid, every muscle locked in place. I barely breathed.

A chill shot up my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, my skin crawling like I’d walked through a spiderweb.

Outside, Mr. Fisher seemed to sense something. He pressed his face closer to the peephole, breath fogging the tiny glass circle.

His knocking grew louder, escalating into harsh, insistent pounding:

Bang bang bang—

A hoarse voice creaked through the door, stiff as rusted hinges, as if someone had never learned how to sound human:

"Open... the door..."

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Mr. Fisher’s pounding grew more and more forceful—I could feel the vibrations rattle through the cheap doorframe. The echo shivered through my bones.

"Chris... open the door for me..."

Should I call the police? My hand hovered over my pocket, but the noise was so loud—would I even have time before he busted in? It felt like Mr. Fisher might break down the door any second—it was already too late to call now.

My eyes darted around the hallway for something I could use as a weapon—a baseball bat, a heavy lamp, anything. All I saw was a dusty umbrella by the shoe rack and a pile of Amazon boxes.

"What are you doing, what are you doing?"

It was Mrs. Evans from next door. Relief washed over me, but my hands were still shaking so hard I almost dropped my phone. Her TV always blared reruns late into the night, and she never missed a thing.

"What are you doing, Mr. Fisher, banging on Chris’s door so late at night? My grandson’s been woken up by you—he’s bawling now!"

Through the peephole, I watched Mr. Fisher turn his head at her voice, the corners of his mouth stretching further into a bizarre, unnatural smile.

He smiled at Mrs. Evans as she approached, his face frozen in that rictus grin.

"I’m just looking for him about something."

"Jeez, Mr. Fisher, what's with that creepy smile?"

Mrs. Evans stopped in her tracks, the keys jangling nervously in her hand. She stared at Mr. Fisher, visibly rattled, not daring to come any closer.

"Don’t knock on his door. Chris is probably asleep. If you need something, find him tomorrow."

"It’s not good to disturb the neighbors so late."

Mrs. Evans tossed out the words like a lifeline, her voice shaky but stern, then hurried away, muttering about crazy people and inconsiderate neighbors.

Through the peephole, I watched Mr. Fisher stare after her, something unreadable behind his eyes. His face twitched, almost like he was trying to decide what expression to wear next.

The next second, his head snapped back around so fast I flinched.

He leaned forward, pressing his wide-open eyes right up against the peephole. All I could see was a single, dilated pupil staring back at me.

Shit.

I was so spooked I stumbled backward several steps, nearly tripping over my own feet. My breath came out in short, panicked bursts.

When I looked again, Mr. Fisher was gone from the peephole. My heart refused to settle.

An impostor, huh... The words replayed in my head, looping like a bad radio jingle.

My tense body finally relaxed, weakness flooding my limbs. My knees almost gave out, and I sagged against the wall, sweat cold on my back.

With some effort, I dragged the shoe rack over and wedged it against the door, stacking it high with shoes and a heavy backpack for good measure. It wasn’t exactly a home security system, but hey, desperate times.

I planned to go check the computer again, see if I’d missed any hints. Maybe it was all some elaborate prank. Maybe there was a clue in the files.

Whoosh—

A blast of cold air whipped through the living room, making the blinds clatter and the curtains snap like flags. The air was sharp and icy, rattling the blinds against the window frame.

What a strong wind. My nerves were shot; even the familiar sound felt sinister now.

Already on edge, the wind startled me even more. I glanced at the kitchen window, making sure it was locked, then peered at the sliding glass door to the balcony.

I gripped the bedroom door handle, paused. My hand was slick with sweat.

Better close the balcony sliding door. It didn’t feel safe. My mind conjured images of Mr. Fisher—or whatever he was—crawling in from the fire escape.

There was no iron frame outside the balcony, just a row of glass railings for safety. On the fifth floor, I’d always thought that was enough. Tonight, I wasn’t so sure.

I turned and closed the balcony door, clicking the lock in place from the inside, testing it twice to be sure.

Hmm, better hang this up. I plucked the little bell from the living room—a Christmas leftover with a faded red ribbon—and hooked it over the door handle. If anything tried to open it from outside, the bell would fall and jingle. It made me feel a little more in control, however silly that was.

I went back to my room and locked the door behind me, sliding the bolt home with a satisfying clunk.

After restarting, the computer’s homepage looked normal again—desktop wallpaper, cluttered icons, nothing strange.

Where’s the software? I scrolled through downloads, searched for the file name. Nothing. It was like it had never existed.

I moved the mouse all over the desktop, even checked the Recycle Bin, but the impostor test software had vanished without a trace. Not a shortcut or log file in sight.

The mouse clicked loudly, the silence in the room growing thick. My unease ballooned, pressing against my chest.

It seemed the impostor had set its sights on me. The realization came with a fresh wave of panic, cold and heavy.

Even scarier, the impostor lived right next door… The thought made me shudder. My sanctuary had never felt so fragile.

Ugh…

My phone vibrated on the table, the sound jarring in the tense quiet. I checked the caller ID—a strange number, not in my contacts, area code from out of state.

I neither answered nor hung up, just set it to silent and let it vibrate away. The insistent buzzing felt like a countdown.

After a while, the caller must have realized I wouldn’t pick up and hung up. Relief trickled in, slow and unsure.

Whew…

Just as I breathed a shaky sigh of relief, the phone vibrated again. My nerves stretched thin, ready to snap.

Still that same strange number. I stared at the screen, heart hammering, refusing to move.

I can’t answer. The words from the impostor test software echoed in my mind, a warning I couldn’t ignore.

Remembering the warning from the impostor test software, I powered off the phone and tossed it aside, hearing it thunk against a pile of laundry. Better safe than sorry.

Then, with a thud, I dove under the covers, cocooning myself in the thick comforter. Some part of me still believed that if I stayed under the covers, nothing could get me—the same logic that kept monsters at bay when I was eight.

I curled up for a while, knees drawn to my chest, listening to my own breathing. The fear pulsed in my fingertips.

Gradually, the covers warmed up, and my heart, which had been pounding with fear, finally began to settle. My eyelids drooped, exhaustion overpowering terror.

Damn, I need to pee. Why does this always happen when you finally get comfortable?

Just as the bed got warm, the urge hit me, sudden and insistent. I eyed the iced tea bottle beside my bed, debating my options in the darkness…