I didn't sleep that night.Not because I was scared. At least, that's what I told myself.But the silence felt heavier than usual, like the room was holding its breath, waiting for something.
You've felt that kind of silence before, haven't you?The kind that hums just low enough for your heartbeat to notice.
I tried to distract myself. I washed a mug that didn't need washing. Rearranged the pile of unfinished manuscripts on my desk. Anything to remind myself that the world was still mine to touch.
But when I finally sat down again, my laptop was already awake.The screen glowed, soft blue, like an eye that never blinked.
The document was open. The Ghostwriter.
I hadn't opened it.I swear to you, I hadn't.
At first, it looked blank.Then, as if the machine was remembering something I'd forgotten, the cursor began to move.
Click.Pause.Click.
One letter appeared, then another.No hands. No sound. Just words.
"She sits alone, staring at the screen. The story has already begun."
I stared at that line until my reflection looked back at me.Tired. Frightened. Unfamiliar.
You're probably thinking I should've shut it down. Unplugged it. Walked away.I thought the same thing.But writers are strange creatures. We chase our ghosts instead of hiding from them.
I moved the mouse. The cursor stopped. For a moment, I thought it was over.
Then a new sentence appeared, slow and deliberate.
"Stop pretending this isn't you."
My mouth went dry.Because it was my voice. My rhythm. My words.Just not mine today.
The cursor blinked, almost like it was waiting for me to respond.So, I did. I started typing.
"What do you want?"
The reply came instantly.
"I want what you took."
And there it was again, that name faintly burned into the corner of the screen, like a watermark hidden in the code.
K.O.
The room suddenly felt smaller. My heartbeat was too loud.Outside, the rain began to fall again, the same kind of rain from that night.The kind that sounds like a thousand fingers tapping against glass.
And maybe I imagined it, but when I looked back at the screen, I could've sworn the words were breathing with me.