A cold dread seeped into my bones. Two conflicting messages, both claiming to be from my roommate, Sarah. The frantic knocking intensified, punctuated by Sarah's terrified voice, "Open the door! He's right behind me!" Then, the chillingly calm voice on my phone, "It's not me! Don't open the door! Don't open the door!"
My heart hammered against my ribs. Logic screamed at me to ignore the knocking, to trust the phone call. But Sarah's fear was palpable, raw and immediate. The knocking was insistent, desperate. It sounded… close. Too close.
I crept to the peephole, my hand shaking so violently I could barely see. All I saw was a shadowed hallway. Nothing. But the knocking continued, a rhythmic pounding against the wood.
The phone call ended abruptly. Silence, except for the persistent knocking. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the conflicting information. Was it Sarah? Was it someone impersonating her? Or was this some elaborate, terrifying prank?
A new sound cut through the silence – a low growl, guttural and menacing. It wasn't human. It came from the hallway, close to the door. My breath hitched in my throat. This wasn't a prank. This was real.
The knocking stopped. The growl intensified. I pressed my ear against the door, hearing a muffled scuffle, a strangled cry. It was definitely Sarah.
My hand, still trembling, reached for the doorknob. Fear warred with a desperate need to help. Should I risk it? The growl came again, closer now, more menacing. It felt like something was clawing at the door from the other side.
I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves. I couldn't leave Sarah to whatever was out there. With a silent prayer, I threw the door open.
What I saw next made my blood run cold. But it wasn't what I expected.
