Don’t Look Behind You

Don’t Look Behind You

Every night at midnight,
I hear footsteps in the hall.
Slow and heavy, one by one,
then silence by my wall.

I live alone.

At least, I thought I did.

Last night, I heard breathing
coming softly from my bed.
I held my breath and listened,
the breathing stopped instead.

Then a whisper touched my ear:

“Why did you stop?”

I ran toward the bedroom,
but the door was locked from inside.
I could hear something laughing
on the other side.

I searched for the spare key,
my hands shaking as I tried.

Then my phone began to ring.

The caller was me.

I answered.

Nothing.

Just breathing.

Then my own voice whispered:

“Whatever you do…
don’t look behind you.”

I froze.

Because the voice wasn't coming
from the phone anymore.

It was coming
from directly behind me.

I felt something cold
rest against my shoulder.

A mouth whispered:

“You always turn around.”

I closed my eyes.

And waited.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then I heard footsteps running away.

I opened my eyes.

The hallway was empty.

But my bedroom door was open.

And written across the wall
in fresh, wet letters:

“HE'S BEHIND YOU.”

I didn't turn around.

I didn't breathe.

Because something behind me
started breathing first.

And then,

it laughed with my voice. 🩸








BY LILLY.