The moment Tyler's voice—sharp, desperate—echoes in the apartment, the room feels colder than ever. My body goes rigid, my heart pounding, his words repeating over and over in my mind.

Don't trust it, Ettie!

I sit on the floor, Max pressed tightly against me, his body trembling as much as mine. The air is thick with something I can't see but can feel all around me. I know now, deep in my bones, that whatever I've been hearing, whatever has been moving things in the apartment—it isn't Tyler. It never was.

The knowledge hits me like a weight in my chest, but at the same time, it's a release. The constant gnawing hope that Tyler was trying to reach me, the illusion that somehow he was still here—it's all shattered. But with that truth comes a new terror. If it's not Tyler... then what is it?

I stand shakily, my legs weak beneath me. The sneaker, Tyler's sneaker, sits abandoned in the closet like a cruel joke. A trick. I close the door, shutting it away, but the image of it lingers in my mind, burning like a warning. Whatever has been toying with me, feeding on my grief, it's getting stronger. I can feel it.

The apartment is silent again, but the quiet feels more oppressive now, as if it's waiting. Waiting for me to make the next move, to break completely. I glance toward the windows, the faint gray light of dawn just starting to creep through the blinds. Morning is coming, but it doesn't bring relief. It only makes everything seem more surreal.

I grab my phone from the table, my fingers trembling as I scroll through my contacts again. Chloe's name flashes on the screen. I hesitate. How could I possibly explain this to her? She'll think I've lost my mind. And maybe I have.

But I can't do this alone anymore. I press the call button, holding my breath as it rings. The sound feels like it's coming from far away, muted, as if even the phone is trapped in this strange, suffocating nightmare with me.

"Ettie?" Chloe's voice on the other end is groggy, confused. "It's so early. What's going on? Are you okay?"

The moment I hear her voice, the dam inside me breaks. I'm shaking, tears welling up as the words tumble out.

"I'm not okay, Chloe," I choke out, my voice trembling. "I—I think there's something in the apartment. It's... I don't know what it is, but it's not Tyler. It's been pretending to be him. It's been playing with me, and I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

There's a long pause on the other end. I can hear Chloe breathing, processing what I've just said. For a moment, I'm terrified she won't believe me. That she'll dismiss this as grief, a hallucination, a product of my trauma. But when she finally speaks, her voice is soft, concerned.

"Ettie, I'm coming over. Don't do anything. Just... hold tight. I'll be there soon, okay?"

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Okay. Please hurry."

"I will. Just stay on the line with me until I get there, okay?"

I clutch the phone tighter, relief flooding through me at the sound of Chloe's calm voice. But even with her on the phone, the apartment feels darker, the air thicker, like whatever is in here with me is closing in.

I don't move from the couch while I wait for Chloe. I sit with Max, my heart pounding in my chest, the phone still pressed to my ear as Chloe talks, trying to keep me grounded. She tells me about a new project she's working on at her job, about her latest fight with her mom, about everything except what's happening to me. And that's okay. I don't want to talk about it either. Not until she's here.

But the quiet is too heavy. The apartment feels like it's watching me, like it's waiting for something. My mind keeps drifting to the letters, the photos, the voicemail, and Tyler's voice—so close, but so wrong.

"Ettie, I'm outside!" Chloe says suddenly, and I almost drop the phone in my relief. "Buzz me in!"

I hurry to the door, fumbling with the lock as I let her in. Max stays glued to my side, his eyes darting nervously toward the shadows in the hallway. Soon I notice Chloe wandering in, her auburn short hair, and petite frame, very distinguishable. She has done what she could to be there for me...for my ordeal. Chloe adored Tyler and vice-versa. As she steps closer, I can see the concern on her face immediately. She looks at me like I'm a fragile thing, ready to break, and maybe I am.

"God, Ettie, you look..." Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head. "I don't know what's been happening, but I'm here now, okay? You're not alone."

I want to believe her, but the moment she steps inside, the air in the apartment feels different—thicker, more oppressive. I can see it in her face too—the way her smile falters, the way her eyes dart around the room as if she senses it too.

"What... what is this place?" Chloe whispers, almost to herself. "It feels... weird."

I nod, swallowing hard. "It's been like this since Tyler... since he died."

She glances at me, and I can see the pity in her eyes, but also the fear. She doesn't believe me yet. Not fully. But she feels it. I can see it in the way she avoids looking at the mirror, in the way she keeps glancing toward the shadows.

"I need to show you something," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "The letters. The voicemails. They aren't from Tyler. Something else... something's been pretending to be him."

I lead her to the coffee table, where the letters are scattered. Chloe picks one up, her eyes scanning the words, her brow furrowing in confusion. "When did you get these?"

"They... they just showed up," I stammer. "And the voicemails—they sound like him, but they aren't. It's not him, Chloe."

Chloe looks at me, her eyes wide with disbelief, but before she can say anything, the lights flicker.

We both freeze. Max growls low, his body tense beside me. The air grows colder, and I can feel it—the presence. The apartment is alive with it.

The lights flicker again, then go out completely, plunging us into darkness.

"Ettie?" Chloe's voice is tight, trembling. "What the hell was that!"

I can barely breathe, my body frozen with fear. The darkness is suffocating, and I can feel something in it, something watching us, circling us.

"Chloe..." I whisper, barely able to get the words out. "We have to go!"

But before we can move, the room erupts with sound.

It's the mirror.

It shatters.

The sound is deafening, glass exploding outward, shards flying across the room. Chloe screams, ducking down as I pull Max close, my heart racing out of control. The air is alive now, filled with something cold and malevolent, something I can't see but know is there.

And then, through the darkness, I hear it again.

Tyler's voice.

But it's not just in my head this time. It's everywhere.

"Ettie... don't leave me..."

I grab Chloe's arm, dragging her toward the door, my breath coming in short, frantic bursts. The air around us feels like it's tightening, squeezing, as if the apartment itself is trying to trap us, hold us inside. Max is barking wildly now, his nails scraping against the floor as we scramble toward the door.

We make it to the hallway, the door slamming shut behind us. Chloe is shaking, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror.

"Ettie, what the hell just happened in there?" she whispers, her voice trembling.

"I told you," I manage to say, my own voice barely steady. "It's not Tyler! It never was."

We sit in Chloe's car for what feels like hours, neither of us saying much. My heart is still racing, and I can't shake the feeling that whatever was in that apartment is still watching me, still waiting. Chloe stares straight ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles white.

Finally, she turns to me, her voice shaky but determined. "We need to figure out what this is, Ettie. We need to get help."

I nod, but deep down, I'm terrified that no one can help us. Whatever's in that apartment, whatever's been tormenting me—it's not going to stop. It's not going to let me go.

And I don't know if I have the strength to fight it anymore.