The Apartment Above

When Ryan moved into his new apartment, the landlord gave him one strange rule:

“Never go upstairs after midnight.”

Ryan laughed. There was only one floor above him, and as far as he knew, nobody lived there.

But every night at exactly 12:17 AM, he heard footsteps above his bedroom.

Slow footsteps.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

One night, unable to sleep, Ryan finally went upstairs.

The hallway was completely dark.

At the end was a door marked 17.

He opened it.

Inside was an exact copy of his apartment.

Same sofa.

Same bed.

Same photographs.

Even the same clothes hanging in the closet.

Ryan slowly walked into the bedroom.

On the bed was a photograph.

It showed Ryan sleeping.

Taken from the ceiling.

He looked at the date.

Tomorrow.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned around.

Nobody was there.

Then his phone buzzed.

A message from his own number appeared:

“Ryan, don't turn around.”

He froze.

Another message arrived.

“I'm upstairs too.”

Then he heard his bedroom door downstairs slowly open.

And someone whispered his name.

“Ryan…”

THE LAST PASSENGER