The first knock came at exactly 3:17 a.m.
Arif didn't wake up right away. It blended into his dream—something distant, like a door slamming in another world. But then it came again.
Knock… knock… knock.
Slow. Measured. Deliberate.
His eyes snapped open.
The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of his phone screen on the bedside table. The fan above creaked softly as it spun, pushing warm air across his face. For a moment, he lay still, listening.
Nothing.
He exhaled and turned onto his side.
Knock… knock… knock.
This time, louder.
Arif sat up.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice dry.
No answer.
He glanced at his phone. 3:17 a.m.
A chill crept down his spine.
No one visited at this hour. Not in this building. Not in this part of the city where even stray dogs went silent after midnight.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. The floor felt colder than usual.
Another knock.
Slower now.
Knock… …knock.
As if whoever—or whatever—stood outside was losing patience.
Arif moved toward the door, each step heavier than the last. He tried to convince himself it was just a neighbor. Maybe someone drunk. Maybe someone confused.
But deep down, something felt… wrong.
The hallway light outside his apartment was always on. Always.
Yet when he reached the door and looked through the peephole—
Darkness.
Not dim.
Not shadowy.
Just… pure black.
As if the hallway didn't exist anymore.
His breath hitched.
"Hello?" he whispered.
No response.
He leaned closer to the peephole, squinting.
For a split second—
Something moved.
A shape.
Too close.
Arif jerked back.
His heart pounded violently against his chest.
That wasn't possible. No one could stand that close without blocking the entire view—but what he saw… it didn't look like a person.
It looked like an eye.
Wide.
Unblinking.
Watching him.
Knock.
He froze.
But this time—
The sound didn't come from the door.
It came from behind him.
Slowly, very slowly, Arif turned around.
His bedroom door was slightly open.
He was sure he had closed it.
The darkness inside seemed thicker than it should be, pressing outward like it was alive.
And then—
From inside the room—
Knock… knock… knock.
Arif's throat tightened.
Because he realized something impossible.
If something was knocking from inside his bedroom…
Then what had been knocking at the front door?
The bedroom door creaked open a little more.
And a voice—soft, broken, almost like his own—whispered:
"Let me out."