While I'm in the shower

Have you ever thought about those clicks, creaks, and rustling sounds in the apartment that we hear so often? I always attributed these sounds to mundane causes: "it's gotten hot," "it's gotten cold," "a draft," "the cat"... I'm sure many of you have heard a kitchen door slam when no one's there, or the creaking of floors in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep and the cat is lying next to you on the pillow. Have you ever felt like "someone" is watching, even though no one is around? So I always tried to find a "rational" explanation for it.

We'd been renting this apartment for years. That day, I was the first one home from work and bustled around the kitchen, waiting for my husband. Our plans were to have dinner and watch a movie. At the time, we were living together in a one-bedroom apartment; we didn't have a cat yet.

The turn of the key in the front door meant my husband was home.

 After dinner, while I was cleaning the kitchen, my husband took a shower. I followed.

We never locked the bathroom door, as it wasn't necessary. I was already rinsing off when I heard my husband enter the bathroom and start searching for something among the bottles on the shelf. Deciding to make his search easier and give him a hint, I peeked out from behind the shower curtain and was horrified – there was no one in the bathroom!

I rushed out and found my husband lying on the bed. My head was pounding, as if he'd managed to get out quickly, although my heart told me that wasn't true. When I asked him what he was looking for in the bathroom, he replied that he hadn't gotten out of bed or entered the bathroom at all.

About six months had passed since then, and all that time I'd only showered with the door open so I could call my husband if necessary. Then everything began to fade away, and I calmed down.

 Last week, as usual, I was splashing around with the door open when I sensed someone in the bathroom. I could clearly hear my husband talking on the phone in the room. I felt absolutely terrified. I peeked behind the curtain – no one was there. I continued rinsing off the suds, listening to every sound. When I happened to glance at the shower head, I saw someone standing in the bathroom behind me.

I spun around, catching a dark, blurry spot out of the corner of my eye, sliding sideways and back. I was so panicked I couldn't even scream; I fainted right there in the shower...

The next day, we moved out of that apartment. Now I only shower with the door open, forcing my husband to stand next to me. I've learned to wash my hair with my eyes open, as I want to be constantly aware of the situation. I constantly look at mirrored objects, so as not to miss the appearance of a shadowy creature behind me.

 I am constantly tormented by the thought: will this creature live only in the apartment we moved out of, or will it come back to me?