Ignoring the knocks, you shut off the TV, plunging the room into thick, heavy silence. You stretch, bones creaking, and shuffle toward your bedroom
Your bed is warm, familiar, a cocoon against the strange unease prickling at your skin. Sleep pulls at you, slow and relentless. Your eyelids grow heavy. The world fades.
But just before you slip under—right before the darkness claims you—you glance up from your pillow.
And freeze.
Your bedroom door is open.
You didn't leave it that way.