Don’t Look Back

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating. 3:17 a.m. A text notification

glowed on my screen. Don’t move. I frowned. Half-asleep, I typed back:

Who is this? The reply came instantly. I’m in your room. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Slowly, painfully slowly, my eyes drifted toward the dark corner near the

closet. Nothing. Just shadows. I let out a shaky breath and typed:

This isn’t funny. The typing bubbles appeared. I know. I’m scared too.

My phone buzzed again—this time with a photo. It was my bedroom. Taken from behind

me. The blankets in the photo were the same. The moonlight through