The Stranger
Al stumbled back from the mirror, his heart slamming against his ribs. His reflection stood there, still and unbothered.
Had he imagined it? A trick of exhaustion?
The Shadow hummed.
"Not a trick. Not exhaustion. You're slipping."
Al gritted his teeth. Ignore it. Move. Do something.
His phone buzzed on the counter. The screen lit up with a single notification.
Unknown Number: "Where did you go?"
Al's throat tightened. He didn't recognize the number. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Who is this?
Three dots appeared. Someone was typing.
Then—nothing.
The message box stayed empty.
A knot formed in his stomach.
Then, a knock at the door.
Al turned slowly. The air in the apartment felt thick.
He approached the door, hesitated, then looked through the peephole.
A man stood outside.
A stranger. Dark hoodie, sunken eyes. A cigarette between his fingers.
But the moment Al saw him, the man's expression shifted.
Recognition.
Like they knew each other.
Al's chest tightened. He slowly unlocked the door and cracked it open. "Can I help you?"
The man frowned. His pupils were blown wide. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but then—
His face twitched.
His body shuddered, a jerky, unnatural motion.
His lips formed words that didn't come out.
Then, in a hoarse, broken whisper—
"What did you do to me?"
A violent shiver ripped through him. His eyes flickered, his breath hitching like a dying engine.
Then—
He staggered back.
His confusion twisted into something horrified.
And then he turned and ran.
Al slammed the door.
His pulse hammered in his ears.
He knew. That man knew something.
The Shadow was silent for a long time. Then—
"I think we're being noticed, Al."
Al gripped his temples. "No. I didn't do anything."
A soft chuckle.
"That's what makes it so fun."
Al closed his eyes, trying to block it out, trying to keep his thoughts his own.
But as he did, something flashed behind his eyelids.
A memory.
The stranger's face.
From before.
From a moment Al didn't remember living.