00:00The locked room. When I was 14, I lived with my parents and older sister in a two-story house at
00:07the edge of town. It wasn't isolated, we had neighbors on both sides, but the backyard opened
00:12into a patch of woods that always felt eerie after dark. One Friday night, my parents decided
00:18to go out for dinner. They left around 7 p.m., telling me and my sister to lock up, order pizza
00:24if we wanted, and not to open the door for strangers. Typical parent stuff. By 9, the
00:30house was quiet. My sister was scrolling on her laptop while I sat in the living room
00:34playing a game on my phone. That's when we both heard it, the unmistakable slam of the
00:40back door. We froze. My sister looked at me wide-eyed. Did you lock it? She whispered.
00:46I thought you did, I whispered back. The air went heavy. Slowly, we both stood up, straining
00:52to listen. At first, there was only silence. Then came the sound of footsteps. Slow, deliberate,
00:58heavy. They echoed against the tile floor of the kitchen and then moved into the hallway.
01:02Someone was inside. My sister grabbed my wrist and pulled me upstairs. We rushed into her
01:08bedroom and locked the door. Our hearts pounding. She fumbled for her phone and dialed 911 with
01:14shaking hands. I pressed my ear to the door. The footsteps grew louder, climbing the staircase
01:20one creak at a time. My chest tightened with each sound. Whoever it was, they weren't rushing.
01:26They were taking their time, almost like they wanted us to know they were there.
01:30We sat in silence, hardly breathing, until the footsteps stopped. Right outside the bedroom,
01:36the doorknob turned slowly, clicking against the lock. My sister muffled a sob. After a moment,
01:42the rattling stopped. Then came silence. We stayed like that for what felt like hours. Finally,
01:47we heard the faint wail of police sirens in the distance. Relief washed over me until I noticed
01:52something. A shadow moved under the door. Not pacing. Not leaving. Just standing there. I don't
02:00know how long it lasted, but eventually the sound of officers shouting broke the stillness. Heavy
02:06boots stormed the hallway. When they opened the bedroom, we spilled out, shaking, trying to explain
02:11what happened. They searched the entire house. The back door had been forced open with some kind of
02:16tool, muddy boot prints tracked across the floor. But the house was empty. Whoever had been there
02:22was gone. That should have been the end of it. But as the officers were wrapping up, one of them
02:29noticed something taped to the outside of my sister's bedroom door. It was a piece of paper,
02:35ripped from a notebook. Written in messy, smudged handwriting were five words that I'll never
02:41forget. Next time, I'll get in. The officers took the note as evidence, promising to increase patrols
02:48in our neighborhood. But that night, when my parents came home and the house finally emptied of police,
02:54I couldn't shake the image of that shadow under the door. Just standing there, waiting. For weeks,
03:00I barely slept. Every creak of the house made me jump. I started keeping a baseball bat under my
03:06bed. My sister refused to stay in her room alone, moving into mine instead. We never found out who
03:12broke in. No arrests were made. But a few months later, a neighbor reported seeing a tall man standing
03:18at the edge of the woods behind our houses, just watching. By the time anyone went to check, he was
03:24gone. Even now, years later, whenever I hear an unexpected knock or a door creak in the night,
03:29I feel that same icy fear crawl up my spine. Because whoever he was, I know he meant those words.
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