Closet

I'm a seventeen-year-old girl who dropped out of school in ninth grade and moved out. Personally, I think it's humiliating to be dependent on your parents at that age; it's time to start building my own life. I'm renting an apartment from a friend of my mother's. It's so-so, but the landlord's asking price was so ridiculous, I agreed without hesitation. And I should have.

The apartment is a small one-bedroom apartment. And the huge glass-fronted closet in the room makes it feel even smaller, with barely any room to move around. But I'm not complaining; I'm rarely home. I'm either at college or at work, because I have to pay for my rent somehow. I wake up, walk the dog, then go to college, or to my part-time job, or go home, walk the dog, and then go to bed. And so on, every day.

 Ever since I moved in, my landlady has been asking me not to touch the closet or put anything in it, saying she'll soon take it away; it's only there temporarily. I've been living in this apartment for three months now, and she hasn't moved the closet out in those three months. It's not in my way, though—there's plenty of room to put things; it's just there, so let it be. I can't complain, considering the ridiculous price.

That's what I used to think. Until Hati (that's my dog's name) started looking at the closet strangely. One day, he even stared and stared, and then jumped back as if scalded, barking. I just laughed, not paying attention.

One day, I was so exhausted that I came home and went straight to bed. I woke up around three in the morning from a strange noise. The apartment is on the second floor, so I thought there was a burglar. Unlikely, but entirely possible, especially since I couldn't find any other plausible explanation at the time. I was about to get out of bed when my gaze fell on the closet standing right across from me. My God... I still clearly remember the chill running down my spine, and the look of horror on my face, I guess. There were two bloody handprints on the closet doors, and a horrifying, horrifying face stared right back at me. It was completely white, hairless, as if clean-shaven, with red, pupil-less eye sockets and a wide-open, toothless mouth. It was slapping its bloody palms against the glass, leaving marks.

I jumped out of bed, and the next second I was outside. Just like that, in my nightgown. What was that?! Where can I find an explanation for this?! I'm writing this, recalling the events in detail, and my hands are shaking involuntarily. I'm still scared.

I only returned to the apartment the next day, when it was already light, and there were people outside. I called the owner, begging her to take the cabinet, begging her to pay extra just to have it removed. She asked worriedly what had happened, but to avoid seeming insane, I mumbled some nonsense. She must have suspected something, because she didn't bother to ask, even though I didn't give her any coherent answers. That same evening, the cabinet was taken away.

Khati's strange glances at the place where the cabinet had been stopped. His barking into the void and his strange behavior ceased. I still can't figure out what it was, but I don't want to think about it too often.