I hung up, but unease prickled at the back of my mind. The way she'd said "the forest" made my skin crawl, like she knew something I didn't. The room seemed to close in around me, the walls pressing tighter, the shadows darker. Could the police suspect me? Was that why she was coming? The thought made my stomach twist, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.

I considered calling my mum but decided against it. She wouldn't care—not really. She'd act concerned, hover awkwardly, but that was all. I didn't need that right now.

Instead, I busied myself straightening cushions on the sofa, trying to distract myself from the gnawing unease. My hands shook as I tried to pour a glass of water, spilling some on the counter in the process. The droplets caught the faint light, shimmering like tiny mirrors on the dark wood. I wiped them away, the damp cloth cold and clammy in my hand.

The house was far too quiet. The only sounds were the soft hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floor beneath my feet. I felt small in this big, empty house. Exposed.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard it.

A faint rustling sound from the garden.

I froze, my heartbeat quickening, the glass of water trembling in my hand. It's nothing, I told myself. Probably just the wind or a stray animal. But the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a chill crept over my skin. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was out there.

I stood perfectly still, barely breathing, straining to listen. The soft rustle came again, clearer this time. My stomach tightened with dread. Slowly, I placed the glass down on the counter, the clink of it against the surface sounding too loud in the stillness.

I moved carefully, silently, toward the stairs. My footsteps were measured, deliberate. Every creak of the wood beneath me felt like an alarm, each one sending a jolt of fear through my chest. The banister was cool under my palm, the polished wood smooth but somehow slick, like the house itself was sweating under the weight of my fear.

The darkness at the top of the stairs seemed to close in around me. Shadows clung to the corners of the hallway as I inched my way to my bedroom, pushing the door open with trembling fingers. I stepped inside and closed it softly behind me, letting out a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

But the unease was still there, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

I sat in the darkness, gripping the glass of water in both hands, the silence pressing in from all sides. My breathing sounded too loud in the quiet of the house, each breath catching in my throat. I told myself it was nothing—I always managed to scare myself like this. "It's just in your head," I whispered, the words barely audible, as if saying them too loudly would make them untrue.

But then I heard it again—a faint rustling, like something shifting in the garden. My heart stuttered in my chest, my skin prickling with a sudden wave of cold sweat.

I slipped off the bed, the carpet soft beneath my hands and knees, as I crawled toward the window. The air felt heavier, thickening with every second, suffocating me. My fingers trembled as I gripped the windowsill, lifting myself up just enough to peek through the blinds. The blinds creaked faintly, the sound like a warning, as I pulled them aside.

The garden below looked empty at first glance—just shadows, the outline of the fence, and the twisted shapes of bushes swaying in the breeze. But the stillness was unsettling. My breath fogged up the glass as I strained to see, my eyes darting between the shadows, searching for anything out of place.

And then I saw it.

Standing in the middle of the garden, under the dark canopy of trees, was a hooded figure. Completely motionless. Their face was hidden beneath the hood, swallowed by the shadows. But I knew—they were staring directly at me.

A bolt of terror shot through me, and I dropped down behind the window ledge, pressing my back against the wall. My heart was hammering so hard it felt like my ribs might crack. This couldn't be real. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but the image of the figure was burned into my mind.

A hooded figure. Watching. Waiting.

My hands shook uncontrollably as I crawled back towards the window. Maybe I imagined it. That's what my mind kept telling me. Maybe it's just a trick of the light. A shadow. Nothing more. My rational thoughts, weak as they were, fought against the terror clawing its way up my throat. I forced myself to look again.

I peeked through the blinds, praying the figure had vanished.

But they hadn't.

They were still there, rooted in the same spot, their face hidden beneath the hood. The garden light was dim, casting long shadows across the grass, but I could sense their eyes on me, boring into me through the darkness. The figure hadn't moved, but I felt like they were closer now—closer than before.

The shadows in the garden seemed alive, stretching and shifting unnaturally. My breath fogged up the glass as I strained to see, my eyes darting between the dark shapes, searching for something—anything—that could explain this. But all I could see was the figure, unmoving, unnervingly still, as if they belonged to the shadows themselves.

And then, they moved.

A slow, deliberate step forward, their footfall soundless against the grass. My breath caught in my throat, my chest tightening like a vice. I backed away from the window, my body trembling with panic. What did they want? Why were they here?

I turned away, clutching the glass of water as if it could anchor me, but the cold in my hands only seemed to deepen the chill spreading through my body. The room felt colder, the silence heavier, every tiny sound amplified in the oppressive quiet. The hum of the boiler, the creak of the floor beneath me—it all seemed too loud, too sharp, like the house itself was holding its breath.

I moved carefully, silently, towards the stairs. My footsteps were measured, deliberate. Every creak of the wood beneath me sent a jolt of fear through me, making my pulse race. I gripped the banister tightly as I crept up, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The darkness at the top of the stairs seemed to close in around me. Shadows clung to the corners of the hallway, shifting as I passed, like something was watching me from just out of sight. My skin prickled, the weight of unseen eyes pressing against me. I pushed my bedroom door open with trembling fingers, stepping inside and closing it softly behind me, letting out a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

But the unease was still there, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

I sat in the darkness, gripping the glass of water in both hands, the silence pressing in from all sides. My breathing sounded too loud in the quiet of the house, each breath catching in my throat. I told myself it was nothing—I always managed to scare myself like this. "It's just in your head," I whispered, the words barely audible, as if saying them too loudly would make them untrue.

But then I heard it again—a faint rustling, like something shifting in the garden. My heart stuttered in my chest, my skin prickling with a sudden wave of cold sweat.

I slipped off the bed, the carpet soft beneath my hands and knees, as I crawled towards the window. The air felt heavier, like it was thickening with every second, suffocating me. My fingers trembled as I gripped the windowsill and slowly lifted myself up just enough to peek through the blinds.

The garden below looked empty at first glance—just shadows, the outline of the fence, and the twisted shapes of bushes swaying in the breeze. But the stillness was unsettling. My breath fogged up the glass as I strained to see, my eyes darting between the shadows.

My gaze slipped closer to the house—and then I saw him. Well, I presumed it was a him. The hooded figure tilted their head slowly, like they could feel my eyes on them. Even though their face was swallowed by the shadow of the hood, I felt their gaze pierce through the darkness, locking onto me.

The motion was deliberate, almost calculated, like they were savouring the fear radiating from the house. It wasn't just that they were there—it was the way they were there, rooted yet aware, like the darkness itself was part of them.

I dropped back down out of sight, sinking to the floor beneath the window, my back pressed hard against the wall. My hands were clammy, trembling as I clasped them over my mouth to muffle the sound of my shaky breaths. My thoughts spiralled, each one darker than the last, until my fear felt like a noose tightening around me. Was this real, or was my mind twisting shadows into nightmares? But the weight of their gaze... that was no trick of the light.