Guest 666 had a habit— No, that was putting it lightly. It was an obsession: staring.

Not the idle, distracted kind of staring that could be forgiven or brushed off as quirky. Hers was piercing and relentless. It may have been charming IF you had a warped sense of affection that found comfort in being scrutinized like a bug under glass...

You’d catch her watching you from across the room, eyes locked onto you with a stillness that felt unnatural. Sometimes it seemed almost innocent, as though she simply didn’t know how to express warmth in a human way. perhaps admiration was, for her, a silent affair best delivered from afar. But more often, it felt primal and unsettling. Her gaze clung to you. No matter how deeply you tried to immerse yourself in tasks such as cleaning, typing, reading, folding laundry— you could feel the weight of her eyes dragging behind your every movement, heavy and invasive.

Sleep was supposed to be a safe surrender, a small death between days. It started subtly, a whisper of motion in the dark. You mentally told yourself in your sleep that it was nothing, the old cabin settling, the wind brushing tree branches against the window. But somewhere, deep in your gut, that primal warning flared. Something wasn’t right.

Guest 666 loomed at the end of the bed, her stare piercing through you with a force that sent shivers down your spine. She didn’t blink or shift. Her red eyes shone ominously in the shadows, and the glitchy corruption on the right side of her body flickered. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought she was a sleep paralysis demon. Most likely.

“You’re awake." Guest 666 pointed out as you groggily opened your eyes and caught sight of her. As if staring while you were sleeping was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Jesus Christ. If there were an Olympic medal for being unsettling, she’d be on the podium with a shiny gold reward