“Do not go home tonight.”

The incoming text message came off as odd to Cam for several reasons. For starters he didn’t recognize the phone number. He knew the area code, 626, that meant it was somewhat local. It also came in the form of a green bubble. Android, Cam didn’t know many Android users.

Cam’s thumbs hovered over his iPhone keyboard, debating if he should respond to the stranger. He bit his lower lip in consideration and placed his phone on his desk. He wasn’t going to respond, he didn’t have to, not yet. If it was truly important, the stranger would text again.

Right?

Five minutes went by and Cam got another text message from 626.

“Pls confirm that you at least got this. Seriously. Dnt go home.”

Rushed. “Please” and “Don’t” were sloppy this time around. Was that because 626 was texting in a hurry? Or did that say something about their age? Someone in their teens raised by Instant Messaging or an older person struggling with modern-day technology?

Cam didn’t know very many teenagers or senior citizens. Everyone he knew was in their thirties, with a handful in their late twenties or early forties. He was on the verge of putting his phone down when it buzzed again, another text from 626.

“Cam. Right? You just moved in? Less thn a mth ago?”

Cam’s fingers danced across his keyboard.

“Who is this? How did you get my number?”

“Sherry. The landlord gave it time. I’m Phil. I live below you.”

“* to me.”

Cam knew Phil, but they hadn't been properly introduced. Phil was the single guy who lived below him, maybe a few years older or younger than himself. Sometimes his music was a bit too loud for Cam's liking. Aside from that he didn’t have any issues with Phil, he just hadn't run into him to casually introduce himself.

"Why shouldn't I go home, Phil?"

"you're at work right? You don't usually get home till after 9? I don't mean to sound like a stalker or anything, but I do notice these things living below you."

"Right..."

The iPhone felt heavy in Cam's palms, it didn't just a few minutes ago. He wanted to put his phone in his work bag and finish off the last forty minutes of his shift unbothered. But something deep down told him that that wasn't the right move. He wanted to buy into the fact that he wasn't talking to "Phil", that he was talking to some prankster.

But he knew that wasn't right either.

"I don't mean to freak you out. But someone's in your apartment."

Cam's office suddenly felt small. He felt too big for the work desk he'd occupied for three years. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, and the sounds of his work office became distant. He strengthened his grip around his iPhone as sweat coated his palms.

"What do you mean?" Cam replied.

Two minutes passed before Phil texted back, but to Cam, it felt like an eternity. A flurry of questions flooded his thoughts in those 120 seconds: Should he call 911? Should he go home? Should he call his landlord? Was he really talking to Phil? If there was someone in his apartment how did they get in?

"For the last hour or so I've been hearing footsteps. Heavy footsteps. I don't normally hear you walking around up there. They're loud as hell and I was pretty sure they wrnt coming from you."

"did you call the cops?"

Cam regretted his response the moment he hit "send". Talking to the cops felt drastic even to himself. What was Phil going to say to the cops that couldn't be written off as the simple inner workings of an apartment complex? Would he call the cops if the situation was reversed? Would he even go as far as to getting Phil's number from Sherry?

"Okay. So I went outside to see if I could maybe see into your apartment. I saw this."

Cam set his phone down, folded his shaking hands, and placed them in his lap. The backlight on his phone remained on for thirty seconds before it dimmed, and then it darkened. He tried to peel his eyes off his phone as his mouth grew dry, waiting for Phil's text. Cam nervously tapped his screen to check the Wi-Fi. The office's Wi-Fi was just fine, and he had 5G. What was Phil trying to send? A picture? A video?

It was a video.

But Cam knew right off the bat that he didn't want to hit play. Past the circular "Play" button was the window for his apartment, a view into his living room. The blinds were narrowed, just as he had left them, but past those blinds and in his apartment was the silhouette of something or someone that made his blood run cold. He could see it as clear as day, a darker shadow imprinted on the darkness of his apartment. The shadow was tall, with the head reaching the top of the windowsill. It looked like the silhouette of a woman, it was shapely and it kind of looked like she was wearing a dress. Cam hit "Play".

He could hear the wind and the sounds of streets in the video. He could hear Phil's breathing, the sounds of a man who was legitimately afraid. The silhouette was indeed that of a woman, and it seemed as though she were looking through the blinds, right at Phil as he recorded. The silhouette seemed to sway from left to right, but that could have been Phil's shaking hands. And then she moved to the right, and Phil's video ended. The video was less than ten seconds long, but it was enough to make Cam clock out and go home.

Cam had never driven faster in his life. He took every orange light on the verge of turning red, every right turn was accompanied by the sound of his aging brakes. Cam weaved through traffic without a care in the world. It usually took Cam twenty minutes to go home, but he got there in twelve. His door was open before he removed the keys from the ignition. Phil greeted him at his parking spot, he managed a nervous smile before they shook hands.

"I don't think you should go up there," Phil whispered.

"Thanks for telling me," Cam replied. He didn't know what else to say. He made his way to the stairwell for his apartment on shaky legs. The stairwell was consumed by darkness, he'd have to get to the halfway point before the lights automatically turned on.

"Seriously, call the cops?" Phil questioned.

Cam swallowed the lump that built in his throat, his mouth tasted sour. He placed his hand on the railing, his sweaty palm became coated with dust. He'd have to clean that railing when he got a chance.

Phil watched as Cam made his way up the flight of stairs to his apartment. The darkness of the stairwell swallowed him whole for a split second before the light automatically turned on. Phil didn't want Cam to head into his apartment, he knew it was a bad idea, the plea for him to turn around clinging to his tongue. His eyes locked onto Cam's shaking hands as he unlocked his door. He hesitated for a moment, and then he disappeared into the darkness of his apartment.

Cam didn't scream. He didn't make a sound.

Phil never saw Cam alive again.