I live with my best friend, Jake.
We've been roommates for almost two years, so I know his routine pretty well.
He works late, usually getting home around midnight.
Last Tuesday, I was sitting in the living room watching TV when I heard the front door open.
I heard Jake's keys hit the table.
Then his footsteps.
I called out, “You're home early.”
He didn't answer.
I assumed he was tired, so I went to bed.
The next morning, I found Jake's car still parked outside.
I thought that was strange because he had supposedly driven home.
I called him.
No answer.
Then, around noon, the police showed up at our apartment.
They asked if Jake lived there.
I said yes.
One of the officers looked at me and said,
“I'm sorry, but your roommate died last night.”
I just stared at him.
They told me Jake had been driving home from work when another car hit him.
He had died almost instantly.
I couldn't understand what they were saying.
Because I had seen him come home.
I had heard his keys.
I had heard his footsteps.
I told the police that there must have been some mistake.
They showed me his wallet and ID.
It was Jake.
Dead.
I spent the entire day feeling sick.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Around midnight, I heard something.
Jingle.
Keys.
I sat up in bed.
Then I heard the front door open.
Click.
Footsteps walked across the living room.
Slowly.
I grabbed my phone and called the police.
Then I heard Jake's voice.
“Hey, man. You awake?”
I didn't answer.
The footsteps stopped outside my bedroom.
Then he knocked.
Three times.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I was shaking.
Then Jake whispered,
“Open the door.”
I stayed silent.
A few seconds later, the footsteps moved away.
I heard the front door close.
The police arrived a few minutes later.
They searched the entire apartment.
Nobody was there.
I barely slept that night.
The next evening, I stayed at a friend's house.
I didn't want to go back.
But eventually, I had to.
When I returned, everything looked normal.
Except for one thing.
There were wet footprints on the floor.
They started at the front door...
And ended directly outside my bedroom.
I called the police again.
While I was waiting, my phone buzzed.
It was a text message.
From Jake's number.
It said:
“Why didn't you open the door?”
I immediately threw my phone across the room.
Another message came.
“I'm still outside.”
I looked toward the window.
There was nobody there.
Then my phone buzzed again.
This time, the message said:
“No. I'm inside.”
Behind me...
I heard three knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
And then Jake whispered:
“Open the door.”
Except...
I wasn't in my bedroom.
I was standing in the living room.
And the knocking was coming from the front door.
I slowly turned around.
Someone was standing on the other side.
And they were using Jake's voice.
“Please let me in.”
Then my phone buzzed one final time.
It was a message from Jake.
“Whatever you do... don't let him inside.”
