The night was colder than it should've been. Winter wasn't due for another two months, but the breeze felt like it had crawled out of a grave. Nina Carson shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket as she walked down West Pine Street. It was quiet out, almost eerily so, the kind of quiet that seemed to settle in just before something went wrong.
"You're gonna give yourself frostbite dressing like that," her roommate Heather had joked earlier that evening, watching Nina tug on the thin windbreaker instead of the bulkier coat hanging on the rack. But Nina wasn't worried about frostbite. The ten-minute walk from the university library to her apartment didn't warrant any heavy-duty gear. And besides, she hated how puffy that coat made her look.
Now, though, as the wind nipped at her neck and the streetlights buzzed overhead, she wondered if maybe Heather had a point. She glanced at her phone: 9:47 PM. Late, but not unreasonably so. The street stretched ahead, a straight path bordered by looming brick buildings on one side and a park on the other. She told herself the unease prickling the back of her neck was just nerves from the late-night study session. Midterms did that to her every time.
And then she saw him.
A man—or maybe just a shadow at first glance. He stood on the corner where West Pine met Harper Avenue, his face obscured by the hood of a black sweatshirt. He wasn't moving, just... standing there. Nina slowed her pace, her instincts tugging at her to cross the street or turn back, but something about the way he stood—too still, too deliberate—froze her feet to the pavement.
"Keep walking, Nina," she muttered under her breath, her voice swallowed up by the wind. "It's just some guy. Don't be paranoid."
She moved forward, her steps quicker now, but as she got closer to the corner, the figure didn't budge. She could feel his gaze even though she couldn't see his eyes. The hood hung low over his face, casting shadows that seemed to eat the dim glow of the streetlamp above him.
"Excuse me," Nina said, her voice firmer than she felt as she approached. "Do you need something?"
No response.
The air felt heavier, the cold cutting deeper. She was close enough now to see that his hands were tucked into the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie. His sneakers—worn, gray—looked wrong somehow, like they didn't belong to him.
"I said, do you—"
"Do you think they saw me?"
The words stopped her in her tracks. His voice was low, almost too quiet to hear over the wind, but there was something off about it. Like it wasn't entirely human.
"Uh... who?" Nina asked, her pulse quickening.
The man tilted his head slightly, the movement sharp and unnatural. "Them."
Nina glanced around, suddenly hyper-aware of how alone they were. The street was empty. No cars, no pedestrians, just her and the man in the black hoodie.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, taking a cautious step back.
"They're always watching," he said, his voice sharper now, like a knife dragging against glass. "But they won't see me. Not this time."
Nina's breath hitched. "Okay, listen... I don't know what you're talking about, but I think you should—"
"They'll see you, though," he interrupted, and this time his head snapped up, the hood falling back just enough to reveal his face.
Or what should've been his face?
There was nothing there. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just smooth, pale skin stretched taut over bone.
Nina's scream caught in her throat as the man—or whatever he was—lunged forward, his hands reaching for her with inhuman speed. She stumbled back, her feet tangling beneath her as she hit the pavement hard.
When she looked up, he was gone.
"Jesus Christ, Nina, you're white as a ghost," Heather said, handing her a steaming mug of tea.
Nina sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her hands trembling as she took the mug. "I—I don't know what I saw," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the TV playing in the background. "It wasn't... it wasn't normal, Heather."
Heather leaned against the armrest, her eyes narrowing. "Okay, start from the beginning. What happened?"
"I was walking home," Nina began, staring into the tea like it held the answers. "And there was this guy... this man in a hoodie. He was just standing there, and I thought maybe he needed help, but when I got closer..."
"Let me guess, he pulled a knife?" Heather interrupted, her tone skeptical.
"No," Nina snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "He didn't pull anything. He didn't have a face."
Heather blinked. "What?"
"I mean it!" Nina insisted, the words tumbling out now. "His hood fell back, and there was nothing there. No eyes, no mouth, just... skin. And then he said—they'll see me. Or no, wait... he said they'll see you—"
"Okay, okay, slow down." Heather held up a hand. "You're saying you saw some kind of faceless man? Like, Slender Man or something?"
Nina's jaw tightened. "I know how it sounds."
"Yeah, it sounds like you've been watching too many creepy TikToks." Heather sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Look, it's late, you've been stressed, and your imagination's probably in overdrive. Maybe it was just a trick of the light or some weirdo in a mask—"
"It wasn't a mask," Nina said through gritted teeth.
Heather shrugged. "Okay, fine. But you're safe now, right? Whoever it was, they're not here. So maybe—"
The lights flickered.
Both girls froze, their eyes darting to the overhead fixture.
"That's probably just the building's shitty wiring," Heather said quickly, but her voice wavered.
"Yeah," Nina whispered, her grip tightening on the mug. "Probably."
But deep down, she didn't believe that.
The apartment felt different the next morning. Something about the air seemed wrong—too thick, too still. Nina didn't mention it to Heather as they sat at the tiny table in the kitchen, sipping coffee that tasted like burnt toast. The sun was streaming through the window, weak but steady, and it should've been comforting. It wasn't.
"I called you twice last night," Heather said, scrolling through her phone, her hair still a tangled mess from sleep. "You didn't answer. I thought you were still freaking out."
"I didn't hear it," Nina replied, staring into her mug.
"That's because your ringer's always off." Heather leaned back in her chair, spinning her phone in her hand like it was a nervous tic. "You sure you're okay? You look like you got hit by a bus."
"I'm fine." Nina tried to sound convincing but knew she failed.
Heather didn't press, which was rare for her. Usually, she'd pester Nina until she got to the root of the problem, poking and prodding like a nosy big sister. But this morning, she just nodded and stood up, mumbling something about needing a shower.
When Heather left the room, Nina's eyes darted to her phone on the table. She didn't want to, but she had to check.
She unlocked the screen and opened her call log. There were no missed calls from Heather. None.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her stomach twisting into a knot.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, tempted to call Heather out on the lie, but the words They'll see you whispered through her mind, and she put the phone down instead.
The day passed in a blur of meaningless tasks—laundry, reading, doom-scrolling on social media. Nina tried to shake the feeling that something was watching her, but it clung to her like a second shadow. Every time she walked past the windows, she half-expected to see the man in the black hoodie standing outside, his blank face turned up toward her.
By the time Heather got back from class that afternoon, Nina was on her second glass of wine and had abandoned all pretense of productivity.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Heather said, dropping her bag onto the couch.
"I think I'm losing it," Nina admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Alright," Heather said, plopping down beside her. "Lay it on me. What's going on?"
"You're gonna think I'm crazy."
"Probably," Heather said, smirking. "But tell me anyway."
Nina hesitated, then told her everything—about the man on the corner, the way he moved, the words he'd said, and how he'd vanished into thin air. She left out the part about the missed calls, though. That felt like a thread she wasn't ready to pull on yet.
Heather listened, her expression shifting from amused to concerned as the story went on. When Nina finally finished, Heather leaned back and sighed.
"Okay, so let me get this straight. You saw a faceless guy who told you that 'they'll see you,' and now you're convinced he's, what? Stalking you?"
"I don't know," Nina said, shaking her head. "It sounds insane, I know it does. But I can't shake this feeling, Heather. It's like... it's like he left something behind. Like a part of him is still here."
"Jesus," Heather muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Maybe you should talk to someone about this. A therapist, I mean. Or a professor, maybe? Someone who knows about weird psychology shit?"
Nina shot her a withering look.
"Hey, I'm serious!" Heather said, holding up her hands defensively. "It's either that, or we start researching exorcists."
"Exorcists," Nina repeated flatly.
"Well, yeah. I mean, if we're going full crazy here, we might as well go all-in, right?" Heather grinned, but her eyes darted toward the window, as if she wasn't as sure of herself as she wanted to seem.
Nina didn't respond. She just stared into her wine glass, watching the way the light refracted through the red liquid, turning it into something darker.
That night, Nina couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Every creak of the apartment made her heart jump, every gust of wind outside sent a chill down her spine.
Around 3 AM, just as she was starting to drift off, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She grabbed it, expecting to see a text from Heather or a spam email. Instead, the screen was blank. No notification, no message. Just her reflection staring back at her.
And then the static started.
It came from nowhere, a low, crackling hum that filled the room. Nina sat up, her heart pounding. She looked around, trying to find the source, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.
Her phone buzzed again, and this time, a message appeared on the screen:
DO YOU THINK THEY SEE YOU NOW?
Nina's breath hitched. She stared at the words until her vision blurred, her hands trembling so hard she almost dropped the phone.
The static grew louder, and for a moment, she thought she saw movement in the corner of the room—a shadow shifting where there shouldn't have been one.
"Nina?" Heather's voice came from the hallway, groggy and confused. "What the hell are you doing up?"
The shadow disappeared. The static stopped.
Nina turned to the door, clutching her phone like a lifeline. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Heather asked, rubbing her eyes as she stepped into the room.
"The static. And—" Nina hesitated, holding up her phone. "Look at this."
Heather frowned and took the phone, her eyes scanning the screen. Then she handed it back.
"There's nothing there."
Nina looked down. The message was gone.
The next day, Nina refused to leave the apartment. Heather tried to talk her into going to class, but Nina wouldn't budge.
"You can't just hide forever," Heather said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Watch me," Nina replied, clutching a cup of coffee like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.
Heather sighed. "Alright, fine. But at least let me run a few errands without you freaking out, okay? I'll be back in an hour."
Nina nodded, though the idea of being alone in the apartment made her stomach churn.
When the door closed behind Heather, Nina locked it. Twice. Then she sat on the couch and turned on the TV, hoping the noise would drown out her thoughts.
It didn't.
Every so often, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye—a shadow passing behind her, a light shifting in the corner. But when she turned to look, there was nothing there.
And then, just as the clock struck noon, the power went out.
The TV screen went black, the hum of the refrigerator ceased, and the room was plunged into silence.
Nina stood up, her heart racing. She walked to the window and looked outside, hoping to see other apartments affected. But the lights in the building across the street were still on.
A shadow moved across the glass, and this time, she saw it clearly.
It was the man in the black hoodie.
He was standing in the middle of the street, staring up at her. His face was still blank, but somehow, she could feel his eyes on her.
Nina stumbled back from the window, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
The lights flickered once, then came back on.
When she looked out the window again, he was gone.
Nina sat with her back to the window, her legs pulled up to her chest. She'd stopped crying at some point—she didn't know when. All that was left now was the hollow ache in her chest and the thrum of her pulse in her ears. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't leave.
The apartment was too quiet. It wasn't just the absence of Heather or the soft murmur of their usual routines; it was a dead kind of quiet, like the air itself had been sucked out of the room.
When Heather finally returned, slamming the door shut behind her and setting her grocery bags on the counter, Nina jumped so violently she nearly fell off the couch.
"Jesus, Nina, calm down," Heather said, tossing her keys onto the table. "You look like you've been sitting in the dark thinking about dead puppies."
"He was here again," Nina said.
Heather froze mid-motion, her hand still on one of the bags. "What?"
"I saw him," Nina continued, her voice trembling. "Outside the window. Just standing there, staring up at me."
Heather sighed and started unpacking the groceries. "Okay, first of all, he doesn't have eyes, so technically he can't 'stare' at anything."
"Is this a joke to you?" Nina snapped, standing up so fast the blanket slid off her lap.
"No, it's not a joke," Heather shot back, her tone sharp. "But what do you want me to do, Nina? Do you want me to call the cops and tell them a faceless guy is creeping on you? What are they gonna do, arrest him for being weird?"
"I want you to believe me!"
"I do believe you!" Heather slammed a box of cereal onto the counter. "But believing you and knowing what to do about it are two different things, alright? I'm trying here."
Nina opened her mouth to say something—she didn't even know what—but stopped when the lights flickered again.
Both of them went still.
"Goddamn wiring," Heather muttered, but her voice was quieter now, like she didn't quite believe it herself.
The lights flickered a second time, then went out completely.
"Alright, that's it," Heather said, pulling her phone from her pocket. "I'm calling the landlord. This is bullshit."
She tapped at the screen, but the phone didn't light up.
"What the hell?" Heather muttered, pressing the power button. "My phone's dead."
"It was just working," Nina said.
"I know it was just working," Heather snapped. "I—" She stopped, her eyes narrowing. "Do you hear that?"
Nina strained her ears. At first, there was nothing, just the oppressive silence that had clung to the apartment all day. But then she heard it: a faint, low crackle, like static from an old radio.
"Where's that coming from?" Heather whispered.
"I don't know," Nina said, her voice barely audible.
The crackling grew louder, sharper until it felt like it was filling the room. Then came the voice.
"They see you," it said, low and distorted.
Nina's blood ran cold.
"They see you," the voice repeated, and this time it was clearer, more human.
Heather grabbed Nina's arm. "We need to get out of here. Right now."
Nina nodded, too terrified to speak.
They grabbed their jackets and bolted for the door. Heather yanked it open, but as they stepped into the hallway, they froze.
The man in the black hoodie was standing at the far end of the hall.
Heather swore under her breath. "Who the hell are you?" she shouted.
He didn't move.
"I'm talking to you, asshole!" Heather took a step forward, her fists clenched.
"Heather, don't," Nina whispered, grabbing her arm.
Heather ignored her. "You think you can just stand there and scare us? Huh? You think that's funny?"
The man tilted his head slightly, his movements jerky and unnatural, like a puppet on strings.
"Do you think they see you now?" he said, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Heather froze. "What did you say?"
The man took a step forward, and the lights in the hallway flickered violently.
"Do you think they see you now?" he repeated, louder this time, his voice distorted like it was being filtered through a broken speaker.
Heather took a step back, her bravado crumbling. "What... what the hell is this?"
The man took another step, then another, his movements growing faster and more erratic.
"Run," Nina whispered.
"What?"
"Run!"
They bolted down the stairs, the sound of static chasing them as they fled the building.
Nina and Heather didn't stop running until they reached the gas station three blocks away. The fluorescent lights inside felt harsh and unnatural after the darkness of the apartment, but Nina welcomed them. She felt like she could finally breathe again.
"What the hell just happened?" Heather panted, leaning against the counter for support.
"I don't know," Nina said, her voice shaking. "I don't know what he is, or why he's here, or what he wants, but I know it's not over."
Heather shot her a look. "What do you mean, 'not over'? We're not going back there, Nina. Ever."
"You think that's gonna stop him?" Nina asked, her voice rising. "You think he's just tied to that apartment? He's not human, Heather! He's something else, and he's not gonna stop just because we ran away!"
Heather opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, the lights in the gas station flickered.
"Oh, no," Heather whispered, her face draining of color.
The static was back.
Nina grabbed Heather's arm. "We have to go. Now."
"Where? Where the hell are we supposed to go?"
"I don't know!" Nina said, dragging her toward the door.
As they stepped outside, the streetlights buzzed and dimmed, casting long, flickering shadows across the pavement.
And then they saw it.
A tear in the sky, jagged and pulsating, like a wound that refused to heal. The edges shimmered with a sickly green light, and from the center, the static poured out, filling the air like a tangible force.
"What the hell is that?" Heather whispered.
Nina didn't answer. She couldn't.
The tear widened, and for a brief moment, Nina thought she saw something moving on the other side—something massive and alien, with too many limbs and too many eyes.
The static grew deafening.
And then the man in the black hoodie stepped out of the tear.
"Do you think they see you now?"
The words were a roar, echoing through the empty streets as the man advanced on them.
"What do you want?" Heather screamed, her voice breaking. "Why are you doing this?"
The man didn't answer.
Nina stepped in front of Heather, her legs trembling. "It's not us they see, is it?" she said, her voice barely audible over the static.
The man stopped.
"They're not watching us," Nina continued, her eyes locked on the blank space where his face should've been. "They're watching you."
The man tilted his head, and for the first time, he seemed... uncertain.
The static faltered, just for a moment, and in that moment, Nina felt it: a pull, like gravity, dragging her toward the tear in the sky.
She grabbed Heather's hand. "Run."
They ran.
Behind them, the man let out a sound that wasn't a scream, but something far worse. The static roared to life again, and the world around them seemed to warp and bend, as if reality itself was coming apart.
But they didn't stop.
They didn't look back.
And when they finally reached the edge of town, the tear in the sky was gone.
So was the man in the black hoodie.
They never saw him again. But sometimes, late at night, Nina would hear it—the faint crackle of static, just on the edge of hearing.
And she would wonder if he was still out there, watching.
Waiting.
The End.