I was showering in my hotel room when I suddenly felt someone watching me.
I turned the water off and immediately heard
footsteps. Mustering all my courage, I stepped out and saw my clothes on the floor. As I grabbed my phone, someone yelled…

I froze as the yell echoed through the empty room. It wasn’t just any yell; it was deep and guttural, almost primal. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, the room suddenly feeling smaller and colder. I glanced at the door, my only escape, but it was still locked. I hadn’t heard anyone enter, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was just beyond the threshold.

I slowly turned back towards the room. The clothes that had once been scattered carelessly on the floor were now neatly folded in a corner, as though someone had been there, calmly arranging them while I was in the shower. My phone—only a few feet away—seemed like my only lifeline. I darted towards it, trying to suppress the panic rising in my throat. As my fingers brushed the screen, the door creaked open.

I whirled around, but no one was there.

My breath caught in my throat as I moved closer to the door, instinctively pressing myself against the wall. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave or just stay hidden. In a split second, my mind screamed at me to run, but my legs refused to cooperate. The thought of running into whoever—or whatever—was out there paralyzed me.

I took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, my fingers trembling. I twisted it, but it was locked from the outside. Panic surged through me as I pressed my ear against the door. All was silent on the other side.

With no choice left, I scanned the room for any possible escape. My gaze landed on the window. It wasn’t a grand escape plan, but it was all I had. I rushed to the window, throwing open the blinds, and peered out. My heart sank. We were three stories up. There was no way I could survive a fall.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, plunging the room into darkness. I stumbled back, the phone slipping from my hand. The floor felt colder under my bare feet. My breath grew shallow, and I could hear the faint sound of breathing—like someone was standing just behind me.

Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed my phone, quickly turning on the flashlight. I swung it around the room, expecting to see a figure lurking in the shadows. But the room was empty.

I backed away from the window, my pulse pounding in my ears. Then, I heard it again—the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Soft at first, then louder, like someone was moving closer and closer to me. My heart skipped a beat. I needed to do something—anything.

I grabbed the nearest object, a lamp, and held it in front of me like a weapon, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I spun in place, scanning the room, waiting for any sign of movement.

Suddenly, the door behind me slammed open. I turned, swinging the lamp, but to my surprise, there was no one there. The hallway was empty, the eerie silence almost suffocating. But as I stood frozen, I felt a sudden tug at my sleeve—light, but unmistakable.

I whipped around again, this time expecting to find someone right behind me. But once again, the room was empty.

My phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down at the screen, my heart racing. There was a text, but it wasn’t from anyone I knew. It read:

“You should never have opened the door.”

I dropped the phone, my mind spinning. The cold grip of fear wrapped around my chest. There was something in this hotel room. Something I couldn’t see. Something that had been watching me from the moment I stepped in.

I bolted for the door again, frantic now. I twisted the handle, but it still wouldn’t budge. I hammered on it with all my strength, shouting for help, but the only response was the hollow sound of my own voice echoing in the hallway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a fleeting movement in the shadows. I turned, but there was nothing there. My breath came in ragged gasps, and I felt my knees buckle under the weight of fear.

Then, a soft voice—almost a whisper—came from the darkness.

“You should have left the moment you felt me watching.”

I turned sharply, but the room was still empty. The walls seemed to close in around me, and the air grew thick, suffocating. My legs gave way, and I collapsed to the floor.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, everything went quiet.

The footsteps stopped. The voice faded. The oppressive sense of dread lifted.

I didn’t wait another second. I gathered all my strength and shoved at the door one more time. This time, it opened. Without thinking, I bolted into the hallway, heart racing.

I didn’t look back.

As I ran down the hallway, I could feel my pulse in my throat. The hotel felt alive, each creak of the floor beneath my feet sounding like a heartbeat, echoing in the silence. I didn’t stop running until I reached the lobby, where the receptionist looked up, concerned.

“Are you alright?” she asked, eyeing me with confusion.

I couldn’t speak. I could only shake my head, my body trembling uncontrollably.

“I heard something,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Someone… watching me.”

The receptionist gave me a strange look. “There’s no one else in your room. The last guest checked out early this morning.”

I tried to catch my breath, but the feeling of being watched never left.