Night guests

As a student, I rented an apartment. It was a typical neighborhood, a new building. No one had lived there before, so I never even considered being afraid. However, even in this quiet apartment, something strange happened to me.

It was Thursday night. I couldn't sleep. I had an important exam the next day, I hadn't prepared well, and my anxiety had taken its toll, resulting in insomnia.

So I was lying there, thinking about my life, when I heard a soft rustling sound coming from the hallway. I don't have pets and live alone, so I perked up and listened. It felt like someone was scratching at the door. I wanted to get up several times and check what was going on, but I was too scared.

Then the rustling gave way to footsteps. Very quiet, barely perceptible.

I was so afraid that I couldn't bring myself to turn over (I was lying facing the wall). Someone was standing in front of my bed, I could feel it on my skin. A light breeze brushed my cheek—they sniffed me!

And then I heard a voice, almost a whisper:

"Not there. It's not her."

And I felt it move away from my bed. I don't know where my strength came from, but I turned around. Two silhouettes were floating out of the room into the hallway—a woman and a very young girl. I watched them for a few minutes, and then I just blacked out.

I must have been overwhelmed.

The next evening, I learned that a young woman had died in the apartment below me. She died of a heart attack, sitting on a stool by the window. She had a cigarette in her hand.

It must have been her.