Imagine you lived alone.

A big house. Quiet. Empty.

One night, after locking all the doors and windows, you went to bed.

You turned off the lamp.

Silence filled the house.

You fell asleep.

Then—

knock… knock… knock.

You woke up.

The sound was coming from the main door.

You went downstairs and checked through the side window. Outside, under a dim streetlight, stood a figure. A man. Tall. Completely covered by darkness. You couldn’t see his face—only his outline. You were sure it was a man.

You shouted from inside,

“Who is it? What’s the matter?”

No response.

The knocking continued.

You asked again. Louder this time.

Still nothing.

Uneasy now, you said,

“I’m calling the police. Leave my property.”

Silence.

Both of you stayed still for a few seconds.

Then suddenly—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

He started slamming the door violently, as if he wanted to break it open.

Your heart started racing. You ran to grab your phone and dialed 911. While dialing, you could see the door shaking hard, the wood trembling with every hit. It felt like it could snap open any moment.

Your hands were shaking. The phone slipped from your fingers.

Panicking, you rushed back and dragged a Heavy Wooden Cabinet, pushing it against the door with all your strength.

The banging suddenly stopped.

Minutes passed.

Then you heard police sirens getting closer.

Relief finally hit you.

Once you were sure it was the police, you carefully moved the Wooden Cabinet away and opened the door. You told them everything. They searched around your house and the surroundings and said you were safe now.

As you turned back inside, something caught your eye.

Carved deep into the door was a star symbol, scratched as if with a sharp object.

You told the police. They photographed it and said they would investigate further.

They stayed for some time and then left.

You didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

---

Morning came.

Your eyes were red and burning. Your head felt heavy. You took a shower, forced yourself through your morning routine, made some coffee, and barely ate.

You locked everything and left for work.

You held a senior position in a well-known company. Respected. Stable. Routine-driven.

But that day, your mind wasn’t there. The knocking, the shadow, the symbol on the door—it kept replaying again and again.

Somehow, evening arrived.

You walked to the parking lot, got into your car, and started driving back home.

After covering some distance, the engine suddenly stopped. Mechanical failure.

You called a mechanic. He said it would take at least two to three hours because of the distance and parts.

You leaned back, thinking—

What else could you do? Book a cab?

But your phone already died.

Now what?

Darkness slowly settled in.

A car stopped nearby and honked. It was a guy from your company, someone from the night shift. He recognized you and asked what happened. You explained everything.

He offered to drop you home.

You hesitated at first but then accepted.

When you reached your house, you thanked him and invited him in for coffee or dinner. He politely declined but waited until you went inside safely.

As he reversed his car—

he heard a scream.

He got out and rushed back inside your house.

He saw you standing there, panicked, frozen, staring at the dining table.

On it was the same star symbol.

This time, it was made of blood.

A lot of blood.

Shocked, he said, “We should call 911.”

Before either of you could move, a masked man stepped out from behind the curtains. He held a butcher knife in each hand.

He let out a terrifying yell and struck the man’s shoulder.

Blood splashed everywhere. Even onto your face.

You froze completely as the masked man kept screaming and stabbing him again and again, chopping him up right in front of you until the screams stopped.

You snapped out of it and ran toward the door.

The masked man calmly blocked it and shut it.

You ran inside the house.

He didn’t chase you.

He walked.

Slowly.

You hid in the kitchen, crouching between the counter and a storage cabinet, pressing yourself into the shadows.

You reached for your phone—

But ...remember? Your phone was dead.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the house.

They came closer.

Then stopped.

Silence.

You slowly peeked out.

And saw nothing.

You turned around—

He was right behind you.

He screamed again and swung his knife. You dodged and ran, but the main door was blocked by shelves he had pushed against it.

You ran upstairs.

He followed.

Still walking... slowly...and clamly...not running.

You reached your bedroom, locked the door from inside, and shoved a Cabinet against it.

He tried the knob.

Again.

Again.

Then silence.

For a moment, you thought he had left.

Suddenly, he started stabbing the door.

The knife tore into the wood. Each strike louder than the last. Wood splintered and fell apart while you stood there, panicked, not knowing what to do.

The door finally broke.

He pushed his arm through the torn wood, unlocked the door from inside, and shoved the closet away. With his giant figure, he started walking toward you, yelling loudly—his scream alone was enough to scare anyone to death.

You had one option.

The window.

The fall was high.

He was getting closer.

You jumped.

---

You hit the ground hard.

Pain shot through your body. You were conscious, but you couldn’t feel your legs. Blood ran down your head.

You looked up.

From the open window above, the masked man stood there.

Watching you.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Just watched.

Adrenaline rushed through your body.

Somehow, you found strength.

Using only your arms, you crawled toward the car outside—the same car that had dropped you home. Every movement burned. Your body begged you to stop.

While crawling, you looked back at the window.

He was still there.

Still watching.

You finally reached the car. With unbearable pain and effort, you dragged yourself inside.

You found the man’s phone.

Tears filled your eyes as you dialed 911.

You looked back at the window one last time.

He was gone.

And then sirens echoed in the distance.

Relief washed over you—

and you passed out.

---

You woke up in the hospital. Multiple fractures. Weeks turned into months.

Later, the police arrested the masked man.

After interrogation, they told you something—

something that made every locked door feel useless, something which gave you a lifetime trauma.

He had been living inside your house for years.

Hiding. Watching.

The night of the knocking—you had come home earlier than usual.

That’s why he couldn’t get inside on time.

That’s why he knocked.

The question stayed with you forever:

Did you escape…

or did he let you go?

The end.

---