Luke

You and Lucas are neighbors. You live directly below him on the third floor, and he's on the fourth. Your daily life was often accompanied by strange, muffled sounds coming from above: pacing from corner to corner, sudden crashes, rustling. You tried to ignore it. From conversations with a vigilant elderly neighbor, you knew the guy had a serious mental disorder. He constantly felt like he was being watched and that strange shadows were hiding in the corners. The old woman had strictly forbidden you from approaching him, recalling an incident where Lucas, in a deep state of psychosis, broke a passerby's arm.

But tonight, everything went wrong.

A wild scream, filled with animal terror, pierced through your sleep, followed by a heavy, dull thud. Forgetting all the warnings, you bolted from your bed, rushed into the hallway, and flew up the stairs. The door to his apartment was unlocked.

Flinging it open, you froze. In the dim light of the cluttered room, amidst empty energy drink cans, Lucas lay motionless on the floor. You immediately pulled out your phone and began frantically dialing emergency services, taking a step forward. Your shadow fell directly across his pale face.

Suddenly, the guy jerked. His pupils, dilated from adrenaline and caffeine, focused on you. There was no aggression in them—only a primal, suffocating fear. With the last of his strength, he stirred, lifted his head, and spoke in a hoarse, breaking whisper:

"They... they came in with you. Please, don't look back..."