I moved into a ground-floor studio apartment about five months ago. Nothing fancy just enough space for me, a small kitchen, and a big window facing the alley behind the building. The rent was low. Too low, honestly, but I didn’t ask questions. Just signed and moved in. It was too cheap for anyone according to the space given here.

The first few weeks were fine. Quiet neighborhood. But around the second month, I started waking up feeling… watched. Not scared, just weird. Like that tight feeling in your chest when someone stares at you on the train. At first, I blamed stress. I’ve been working long hours and eating like shit. Thought it was in my head.

But then things started changing from my room.

Nothing major a pair of socks, one of my chargers, the box of cornflakes disappeared. I swear I hadn’t the box finished yet. Again, I figured I was just being forgetful.

Until I found the cigarettea and some unusual stuff.

I don’t smoke. None of my friends do. But there was a cigarette stub tucked behind the curtain near the window. Burnt almost to the filter. Like someone stood behind my curtain and smoked, hiding.

The landlord insists no one else has a key. I asked him twice. Even offered to pay to have the locks changed, but he said it wasn’t necessary.

Last week, I stayed at a friend’s place for a couple days. When I came back, nothing was missing… but my bed was made differently. I never tuck the blanket into the sides I just throw it on. But it was tucked, tight. Hospital-style.

And the weirdest part? There was a single blue pillowcase on my bed. Where all of mine are gray.

I haven’t told anyone. It sounds insane when I type it out. But I know I’m not crazy. Someone’s been in here. Someone knows when I’m gone. And someone has a key.

I’ve started locking my bedroom door at night even though I live alone in a studio.

Now I’m moving to another apartment, costly and safe this time.

besafe