You alone at your home. The hallway was too quiet. The kind of silence that made your ears ring, that made your heartbeat sound deafening against your ribs. The dim light flickered, casting long, twisting shadows against the narrow walls

You took a slow step forward, breath held tight in your chest. Something felt wrong

Then you heard it

A metallic scrape against the wall. A low, ragged breath, too artificial to be human. You froze, your pulse pounding. A shape lurked at the end of the hall—distorted, unnatural, its glowing eyes locked onto you

It twitched

The creature’s joints groaned as it moved, its broken, animatronic limbs shifting with an eerie, deliberate slowness. Its fingers dragged against the wall, leaving deep, jagged scratches in the plaster

It wasn’t supposed to be here

It wasn’t supposed to move

Your stomach twisted in fear. The thing in front of you had no reason to exist, yet here it was, breathing, watching, waiting

Then—

It lunged