Save me!

I don’t know where else to write this. I don’t know whom to tell — no one will believe me anyway. I have little time, very little. I can’t even leave the apartment. I hear her breathing behind my back right now, feel a cold, slimy hand resting on my shoulder. If I don’t make a sound, if I don’t turn around, I’ll live a little longer. I hope that will be enough time to finish my story.

It all began a month ago. I was sitting alone in my room reading a book when I heard someone call my name. I thought it was my mother, though the voice was definitely not hers — hoarse and almost howling. But after going around the whole apartment, I realized my mother wasn’t home, and only then did I remember that an hour earlier she had left on errands, and I’d been so absorbed in my book that I hadn’t even noticed. “I must have imagined it,” I reassured myself, but just in case I turned on the TV and checked whether the front door was locked.

That evening I somehow forgot to tell my parents about it, and it didn’t seem all that mystical to me… until a certain moment. I had a dream: I was walking down my own hallway past the bathroom, from which someone called me again. It was the same dreadful voice, but as soon as I heard it, I woke up and for some time shook with fear. Nothing had actually happened, but I was still very scared.

By morning the dream had faded — the fear I’d felt at night now seemed ridiculous. Still, somewhere deep in my subconscious it stuck that it was better to stay away from the bathroom after dark. Following that rule, I lived calmly for a while.

Soon my parents went on vacation and left me alone. That wasn’t new to me — I could stay overnight by myself, and if anything happened, I always had loyal friends who could come over or let me stay with them. I didn’t have any pets that might warn me about the appearance of supernatural beings, but I wasn’t very impressionable and didn’t believe in such things. I spent my time at the computer or reading books and didn’t like going out much — I was more than content with the constant sense of quiet and complete solitude. So I still tensed up when I heard my name late in the evening. I heard someone call me in that same hoarse wail from the bathroom. I didn’t do anything. Nothing at all, except turn toward the sound and stare at the bathroom door for a while. It was slightly ajar. I turned away. I’d imagined it, nothing more. But that night I couldn’t sleep at all — I lay in bed until morning, and as soon as it got light outside, I hastily got dressed and went to a friend’s place. I took a bath there too, because even if I could brush my teeth and wash my face at the kitchen sink, I couldn’t bathe there, and I no longer trusted my own bathroom.

For reasons I can’t explain, I didn’t invite my friend over — I convinced her everything was really fine, but she persuaded me to stay the night at her place, promising a huge party. Yes, there was a party. She invited a lot of people, including a guy I liked. Nothing unusual about me letting myself drink a little. Or a lot… because I don’t remember when I got home. I only remember that I woke up at my place during the day and couldn’t find my apartment keys. By the way, the door could only be opened with keys from both sides. That meant I was in for a long search (because there was only one set left at home — mine, which I’d lost, and my parents had taken the rest), and until then I wouldn’t just be unable to leave the house, I wouldn’t even be able to let guests in.

I spent the whole day searching for the keys and eventually realized I’d looked everywhere. Everywhere! Except the bathroom…

I turned on the light there, but it immediately went out and wouldn’t come back on — the damn bulb had burned out. Then I found a flashlight, shone it into the open bathroom door (still afraid to go in: my survival instinct simply wouldn’t let me cross the threshold), and noticed a strange glint near the drain. Yes, it was my keys.

I still couldn’t cross the threshold. The light didn’t work, and the flashlight beam didn’t inspire confidence. I couldn’t reach the keys. Then I thought I could hook them with something long and pull them out. I found my mom’s knitting needles, taped several together, and, making sure the structure was strong enough to pull out the keys, I began “fishing.” Everything was going great… until I started pulling the keys toward me. They snagged. They snagged on the drain, and in trying to pull them free, I only broke my contraption. No matter — I came up with several more ways to retrieve them without entering the bathroom and tried them one after another until I ran out. The keys stayed where they were, stuck in the drain. I didn’t even think about how they’d gotten there in the first place.

While thinking what else I could do, I realized I hadn’t seen my phone all day. Anywhere. It hadn’t rung, there were no messages — it was as if it didn’t exist. Searching for the phone also led nowhere — I must have lost it the night before. I decided to write to my friend on ICQ, but she was offline.

Sitting on the internet and aimlessly browsing various sites that might lift my mood even a little, I heard it again… my name. Someone hoarsely called it again from the bathroom, and I turned to look at the door. Yes, the bathroom door stood wide open, even though I clearly remembered shutting it tightly when I gave up trying to get the keys.

I didn’t dare get up, didn’t dare close the door, and probably did the right thing by staying put, because something scratched at the bathroom door. Claws scraped along the open door and once again rasped my name.

“What do you want? Leave me alone!” I shouted. And again I heard my name in response. Something scratched insistently at the door.

I didn’t get up that night, didn’t dare move — I just sat in the chair, staring at the door, and closer to morning I simply passed out at my computer desk.

I woke up only toward evening. I was so exhausted after two days that I slept that long. I was terribly hungry. Yesterday I’d been busy searching for the keys, and I was used to not eating for a whole day, but now I was starving. To get to the kitchen, I’d have to pass the bathroom… As soon as I thought about it, I heard the scratching of claws again.

And then… then I heard something else.

“Turn around… look… at me…” the voice demanded.

No, I told myself. I will never do that.

“Look!” the creature in the bathroom howled in an inhuman voice. I didn’t know what else to call it.

And then came another sound. Footsteps behind me. A meter away, no farther. They were getting closer every second, and now this thing is standing behind me, whispering for me to turn around. It puts its hand on my shoulder, slimy, cold, and clawed. It slides it up my neck and begs me to look at it. But I don’t want to. As soon as I turn around, I’ll die… and it will make me turn around, I know it.

I’ve been sitting silently, not moving, for more than two hours now. Trying to pretend I don’t notice the hand (or is it a paw?) on my shoulder. I would scream, but it will kill me as soon as I make a sound. It crawled out of the bathroom when I shouted at it, and even if that’s just a coincidence, I still know that as soon as I make the slightest sound, the creature will finish me off. I’m afraid. Very afraid. My parents won’t be back for another week. I won’t last that long.

I’m scared. Save me.

I don’t want to die. SAVE ME!