12 The Shadow in the Corner
The Shadow in the Corner The witching hour had long passed, but sleep remained a distant country Leo could not reach. Bathed in the cold, sterile glow of his phone, the rest of his small apartment was a landscape of deep, impenetrable shadows. It was in this profound silence, a quiet so deep it felt loud, that he first sensed it. It wasn't a sound, but a change in the room's pressure—a sudden, heavy stillness, as if the air itself had become thick and aware. Every instinct, honed by millennia of evolution to fear the dark, screamed a single, silent message: he was not alone. A Trick of the Light His eyes darted instinctively to the far corner of the room, next to the heavy oak wardrobe. It was the darkest part of the bedroom, a place where light seemed to die. He stared, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs, trying to pierce the gloom. Nothing. Just a deeper patch of blackness. He let out a shaky breath, a nervous chuc...