For months, Dave lived a monotonous life, nestled in his small one-bedroom apartment. Each day passed the same as the last, his world confined to work, home, and sleep. The isolation wasn’t new—he had long since gotten used to it, accepted it even. Until the calls began.
It started one night. At exactly 1:00 a.m., Dave’s phone rang. Groggy and confused, he answered it without thinking. But on the other end, there was nothing. No words. Just… breathing. Heavy, slow breaths, deliberate, almost like the person on the other side was waiting for him to speak first. But Dave didn’t know what to say, so he hung up.
An Unnerving Obsession Takes Hold
The calls didn’t stop. Every night, at the exact same time, the phone would ring. And every time, it was the same thing—no voice, just breathing. At first, Dave was unnerved. The rhythmic breathing sent chills down his spine, filling the quiet of his apartment with a sinister weight. But as the nights passed, it began to feel less threatening. It became routine, something he expected. He found himself staying up each night, waiting for the ring. When it came, he would listen intently, as though the breathing on the other end was keeping him company.
Then, one night, the call didn’t come.
The absence of the ring at 1:00 a.m. gnawed at Dave. He stared at his phone, waiting, but the screen remained dark. Silence filled the room, an oppressive silence that was far worse than the strange caller’s breathing. The longer he waited, the more anxious he became. Where was the call?
He barely slept that night, tossing and turning, haunted by the void left by the missing ring. By morning, his heart ached with a bizarre sadness, a loneliness that he hadn’t felt in months. As the days passed without the call, Dave grew desperate. He stayed up late, phone in hand, checking the time obsessively. His life, once filled with quiet but comfortable isolation, now felt suffocating without the eerie midnight connection.
A Dark Voice and a Chilling Command
A week later, he was exhausted. The anticipation of hearing that strange breathing had consumed him. That evening, he stumbled into his apartment after work and collapsed on the couch, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately. But at 1:00 a.m., the phone rang again.
His eyes shot open. His heart raced with a mix of fear and twisted excitement. He fumbled for the phone and answered on the first ring.
Before he could say anything, a dark, female voice whispered, “Look outside your window.”
The voice sent a cold shiver down his spine, far more terrifying than the breathing ever had been. His pulse quickened, but his body moved on its own, rushing to the window as if under some unseen compulsion.
There, across the street, in the dim glow of a streetlight, stood a woman. She was dressed in tattered, black clothes, her figure barely discernible against the night. Her face was pale, almost ghostly, and her lips curved into a twisted, evil smile. The most disturbing part? No one else seemed to notice her. People walked by her as though she didn’t exist, their eyes glazed over, oblivious to the dark presence among them.
Dave’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Something about her held him in place, as though her gaze had latched onto his soul.
“Who… who are you?” he stammered, still holding the phone to his ear.
The woman’s grin widened, her dark eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?” Her voice was low, seductive, but dripping with malice. “All those nights… you longed to hear from me.”
The Horror Inside the Apartment
Dave swallowed hard, his mind racing. “What do you want?”
A low chuckle echoed from both the phone and the woman outside. “You’re the one who kept answering, Dave. You’re the one who needed me. Now, I’m here.”
“No… no, I didn’t—” Dave began, but she cut him off.
“Didn’t you? You were alone, desperate. You listened to me breathe night after night because it was the only thing left in your empty life. Now, you can’t live without me.”
His grip on the phone tightened as a sinking realization washed over him. She was right. He had become obsessed, addicted even, to the strange calls, to the breathing. He had clung to the eerie connection because it made him feel less alone. But now that she was here—truly here—it was far more terrifying than he could have imagined.
“Please, just… leave me alone,” he whispered, his voice trembling.
The woman’s smile faltered, turning into a snarl. “You invited me, Dave. Every time you picked up that phone, you opened the door. Now, I’m here to stay.”
His blood ran cold as her figure suddenly started moving toward the entrance of his building. She walked slowly, deliberately, as though savoring every step.
Dave backed away from the window, his heart pounding in his chest. He dropped the phone and bolted for the door, locking it, his hands trembling. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t matter. She was already inside.
The phone rang again.
Hesitantly, he picked it up. His voice was barely a whisper. “What do you want from me?”
The voice on the other end was no longer dark or threatening. Instead, it was soft, almost comforting. “I’m not outside anymore, Dave. I’m inside.”
The line went dead.
His eyes darted toward the shadows of his dimly lit apartment. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her presence, lingering just beyond his sight. She was in the room with him, somewhere close, watching, waiting. He backed into the corner, his breath shaky, eyes darting around.
And then he heard it—the familiar, rhythmic breathing.
It wasn’t coming from the phone anymore.
It was coming from right behind him.
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