Lynn tried to forget Cyrus's warning as she returned home, but the hallway felt even longer that evening. The light flickered again—twice. She hugged her sketchbook to her chest and hurried to her door.
Inside, the air felt colder than usual.
She turned on the heater. It clicked, buzzed, then died.
"…Great," she muttered, rubbing her hands for warmth.
She sat on the floor and opened her sketchbook, hoping drawing would calm her. Her pencil moved almost on its own—lines, curves, shadows. She wasn't sure what she was drawing until she leaned back.
A tall figure.
Standing in a hallway.
No face.
Just a shadow.
Her stomach tightened.
She hadn't meant to draw that. But she couldn't deny it—it looked like the same shadow from last night.
Her phone vibrated suddenly, making her jump.
A message from an unknown number:
"It might get worse before it gets better.
If anything happens tonight, call me. —Cyrus"
She stared at the screen, unsure whether to be comforted or terrified.
How did he know her number?
How did he know something would happen tonight?
As she was typing a reply, the lights flickered once, twice—
Then went out completely.
The entire apartment fell into darkness.
And in that darkness…
A whisper crawled across the room:
"Lynn…"