Evan pressed his back against the wall, his palms slick with sweat. The hallway was narrow—barely wide enough for two people to stand shoulder to shoulder—and every surface swallowed light instead of reflecting it. The old bulbs overhead flickered with a tired, dying pulse, like they were being suffocated by the same invisible presence that stalked him.
He didn't dare breathe.
Not when the footsteps were so close.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Dragging against the concrete floor as though whatever was creating them wasn't built quite right.
Evan counted each step.
One… two… three…
Then silence.
No—worse than silence.
Breathing.
It came from somewhere behind him, thick and raspy, like someone forcing air through a throat filled with fluid. It didn't belong to any normal human. It didn't even sound like a living creature. It was the kind of sound that made the tiny hairs on the back of Evan's neck rise at once and his chest tighten until he felt he might suffocate.
He forced himself to turn.
Slowly.
The hallway behind him was empty.
But the breathing didn't stop.
It grew louder.
Closer.
As if it were leaning into his ear.
Evan staggered back, nearly tripping over his own feet, his heart hammering hard enough to burst. "No," he whispered, voice shaking. "No, no, no—"
A metal door to his right rattled, the vibration shivering through the corridor.
Something was behind it.
Pushing.
Testing.
Searching.
Evan backed further away, staring as the metal began to bend inward, like invisible hands were pressing from the other side. A thin screech tore down the hallway—the metal warping under impossible force.
Evan turned and ran.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
The hallway twisted sharply, leading him toward a stairwell. His mind screamed for him to get out of the building, out of the nightmare, out of whatever hell had swallowed his night whole. The stairwell door was barely hanging on its hinges, dented and smeared with something dark. He shoved it open and sprinted down the stairs two at a time.
But halfway down the first flight, his foot froze on the step.
Someone was standing at the bottom of the staircase.
A silhouette.
Wrong.
Bent, with one shoulder jutting too high, head tilted at an unnatural angle. It was utterly still. It didn't sway. It didn't breathe. It didn't even blink.
Evan's throat closed.
His mind raced. Is it human? Is it alive? Did it hear me?
The figure twitched.
Just once.
A sharp, insect-like movement that made Evan's stomach drop violently.
Then—very slowly—it turned its head upward.
Evan stumbled backward, gripping the railing. The figure's face came into view through the dim shadows.
No eyes.
No nose.
No mouth.
Just skin stretched where a face should be.
But somehow, it was smiling.
Evan didn't wait to see more—he bolted back up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The figure below let out a sound, something like a wet gasp broken by static. It rose after him, limbs scraping against the stairs like bone on stone.
Evan burst out of the stairwell and slammed the door shut, bracing his body against it. The thing hit the other side almost instantly. The impact thundered through the hallway. Dust rained from the ceiling.
"Stop! Please, stop!" Evan shouted, though he knew it was useless.
The pounding stopped.
For a moment, there was only his ragged breathing.
Then—
A whisper.
Right by his ear.
"Evannnn…"
He flung himself away from the door so fast he scraped his palms across the floor. "How do you know my name?!" he screamed, voice cracking.
No answer.
But the whisper lingered in the air like a cold stain.
Evan crawled backward, eyes darting wildly around him. Then he saw it—a flickering sign above a doorway at the far end of the hall:
MAINTENANCE ROOM – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
He didn't know what made him run toward it. Instinct, maybe. Desperation. The need for a barrier—any barrier—between him and the things that hunted him.
He grabbed the handle.
Locked.
"No!" Evan hissed.
He slammed his fist into the door. "Please! Come on—open!"
From the stairwell behind him came the soft sound of the door creaking open.
The thing was coming out.
Evan's breath caught in his throat. Panic blurred his vision. He twisted the door handle violently—
It clicked.
Evan shoved the door open, slipped inside, and slammed it shut just as something heavy slammed into the hallway wall.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
He pressed his ear against the door. Slow footsteps dragged through the corridor.
Right past the maintenance room.
Right past him.
He barely breathed as the steps faded.
Only then did he dare turn around.
The room was pitch black, but he could smell damp concrete and old machinery. A single emergency light overhead flickered on with a weak buzz, illuminating dusty shelves, rusted tools, and tangled wiring.
Then he noticed something else.
A camera monitor in the corner.
It was old. Analog. Flickering with static.
But four live feeds were visible.
Four hallways.
Four angles.
One building.
Evan stepped closer, drawn despite himself.
Feed 1: The east hallway—empty.
Feed 2: The broken stairwell—empty.
Feed 3: The main lobby—empty, though the front door looked smashed.
Feed 4—
Evan's blood froze.
Because Feed 4 was showing him.
The maintenance room.
The camera angle pointed directly at the back of his head.
"Wh—" Evan spun around.
No camera.
At least, none he could see.
But the monitor showed him continuing to move—even though he'd stopped.
On the screen, "Evan" lifted his head toward the camera. Slowly. Mechanical movements, not his own. Something like a smile spread across the version of him in the monitor.
Then it lifted a hand.
And pointed directly at the real Evan.
"Stop," Evan whispered, backing away. "Stop that—stop—!"
The emergency light above him flickered violently, buzzing so loudly it drowned out his voice.
Then the monitor itself began to glitch, the image distorting, the copy of him crawling closer to the camera—closer, closer—
The screen went black.
A knock sounded behind him.
Evan spun.
The maintenance door vibrated.
Something was knocking.
Not banging. Not slamming.
Knocking.
As though asking politely to come inside.
"Evannnn…"
Evan stumbled away from the door, tripping over a tool box. The lights sputtered again, casting the room into long, stretched shadows.
The knocking stopped.
Silence thickened.
Evan held his breath—
S C R E A T C H—
Long fingernails dragged slowly across the outside of the metal door. The pitch rose as the nails moved down, down, down—until the sound became unbearable, a shriek that scraped the inside of Evan's skull.
Then—
The door handle began to turn.
Very.
Very.
Slowly.
"No no no—" Evan whispered.
He looked around wildly. His eyes landed on a vent cover on the floor, half-screwed, half-broken. He lunged for it, tearing it off. Cold air rushed upward from the dark opening.
The door handle turned further.
Evan lowered himself into the vent, sliding his legs into the tight space. His shoulders barely fit. Metal scraped his arms painfully.
The door behind him clicked.
Someone—or something—was pushing it open.
Evan forced himself deeper into the vent, his breath coming fast and uneven. He pulled the cover back over the opening just as the door creaked wide behind him.
The maintenance room filled with slow, heavy footsteps.
Evan froze.
The vent was so tight his chest could barely expand to breathe. He pressed his face to the cold metal and fought the urge to gasp.
Through the tiny slits of the vent cover, he saw a shadow move.
Tall.
Bent.
Wrong.
It dragged a hand across the wall, fingers too long, joints moving like they were bending in the wrong direction. It paused near the vent.
Evan felt the air leave his lungs.
The shadow crouched.
Lower.
Lower.
Until it was level with the vent cover.
Silence.
Evan closed his eyes.
Please don't see me.
Please go away.
Please—
TAP.
A single finger tapped the vent cover. Lightly. Playfully.
Evan bit through his lip to keep from crying out.
TAP.
TAP.
TAP.
Then the shadow slowly rose.
Turned.
And walked out of the room.
Evan didn't move for a full minute. Not even after the footsteps faded completely. His entire body shook violently, pinned in the narrow metal tube like a trapped animal. But the moment he was sure the room was empty, he shoved himself deeper into the vent, crawling on elbows and knees.
The vent stretched endlessly in front of him, a suffocating tunnel of darkness. Every scrape of his clothing against the metal sounded deafening. Every breath echoed like a scream.
And slowly—
S L O W L Y—
He began to hear something.
Not behind him.
Ahead.
Something breathing in the dark.
Something waiting for him.