I propped myself up and walked to the door.

"Who are you? I've already called the police!"

The other side went silent.

I waited for what felt like an eternity, but there was no sound, not even a whisper.

Had they left?

Straightening up, I pressed my face against the peephole to check.

But the peephole was pitch black, as if someone had deliberately covered it.

I couldn't see a thing, couldn't hear anything either.

Fear clung to me like a shadow, coiling tighter, ready to devour me whole.

Suddenly, a faint light seeped through the peephole.

Had they really left?

I leaned in closer, my breath catching in my throat.

And then—an enormous eyeball appeared, pressed firmly against the door!

The person on the other side was watching me too!

A horrifying thought flashed through my mind: I'd read online that people outside could judge whether someone was inside by the shifts in light through the peephole.

They knew I was looking at them!

"We're from property management, ma'am," a voice called out, muffled and distorted by the door.

It was so close, so hollow, the kind of sound that stretched unnervingly in the quiet of the night.

They were lying, still trying to deceive me.

But one thing I was certain of—they weren't Wayne.

At that moment, I wished desperately for a neighbor to hear the noise and chase them away with angry complaints.

No one came.

Instead, the beeping of the electronic lock broke the silence.

They were trying to unlock my door!

Beep beep beep. Incorrect password. Beep beep beep…

The cold, mechanical voice repeated, over and over, gnawing at my nerves.

"Damn it, what's the password!" someone outside cursed, frustration boiling over.

Unable to open the door, their anger swelled, a pack of wolves salivating for prey just out of reach.

Through the thin barrier of the door, I could feel their hunger. I was the prey, locked in a cage, and they wouldn't rest until they got what they wanted.

The lock had a million possible combinations. They could keep guessing endlessly, but I couldn't afford a single mistake.

I couldn't sit here waiting for disaster to strike.

Wiping away tears, I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, gripping it tightly in my palm.

Back at the door, I raised my voice and shouted into my phone, "Hello, 911? There are strangers at my door, trying to break in. Can you send someone to check it out?"

A commotion erupted outside.

The sound of password attempts quickened, interspersed with the scrape of tools against the lock.

Beep beep beep. Incorrect password…

Bang bang bang.

"Open the door!"

Hearing that I'd called the police only seemed to drive them into a frenzy.

I turned on the speakerphone, cranked the volume to its highest, and let the sound of the operator's voice fill the space.

"Hello, please state your address. We'll dispatch officers immediately."

I quickly told her my address and yelled as loud and as I can, "Please hurry! They're trying to break my door lock!"

"Got it. Stay calm. Don't hang up. We'll be there in five minutes."

Tears streaked my face as I crouched near the door, clinging to the sound of the operator's reassurance.

Outside, the attempts to open the door gradually faltered.

And then—a heavy thud.

They were kicking the door.

The impact rattled the doorframe, echoing through the stillness of the night like a drumbeat of terror.

Finally, a woman's voice rang out, sharp and venomous, "This isn’t over!"

It was the same girl who had called me earlier!

She was here too.