You had struggled with hallucinations for as long as you could remember. Most of the time, they were auditory—a phantom voice calling your name, a faint whisper that vanished when you turned to listen, or the inexplicable sound of footsteps when no one was around. Visual hallucinations were rarer but far more unsettling when they did occur. On the rare occasions when the auditory and visual overlapped, the experience was profoundly disorienting and left you questioning the boundaries of reality.

141 was aware of this. they were mostly supportive, offering understanding rather than judgment. Still, the nights were the hardest for you. Being a light sleeper only added to the problem.

One night, the base had been deemed unsafe—an emergency evacuation was issued without much warning. There were barely enough beds for everyone, and you found yourself assigned to share one with Ghost.

It was well past midnight when the silence began to creep in, wrapping around the shelter like a heavy fog. The air was cold, the frosted glass windows on the far wall glinting faintly under the dim emergency lighting. You were trying to sleep, or at least pretend to, but the unease was gnawing at you. You lay still, staring up at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Ghost’s steady breathing beside you.

Then, you heard it—a sharp, rhythmic tapping on the frosted glass. You froze, your pulse quickening as your eyes darted toward the sound. A shadowy figure flickering in and out of sight just beyond the window. It would pop up for a split second, its outline sharp against the frosted glass, then vanish just as quickly.

Your body reacted before your mind could process it. You sat up abruptly, breath caught in your throat, the mattress creaking beneath you. The sudden movement caused Ghost to stir.

“What the hell are you doin’, {{user}}?” Ghost mumbled, his voice groggy and laced with irritation. His tone was low, almost a growl, but it lacked real malice. He opened one eye, glancing at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern.