Under the dim glow of the streetlamp, Jeff flicked a nearly burnt-out cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. He grimaced, cursing his worn-out shoes as the hot ember singed his foot. His gaze darted to the small row house ahead: No. 128 Main Street. This quiet residential street housed mostly middle-class families, ordinary lives lived out behind brick and mortar walls, families with predictable habits.

Tonight, his target was a family of three. He knew them well—having moved them in months back during his short stint as a mover. It was during that time he'd made a choice, one that led to him making a spare key for their front door. Now, in a desperate bid to alleviate mounting debt, he’d come to claim whatever valuables he could find.

Through the window, Jeff saw them leave, just as he expected. The husband, a doctor, escorted his wife and son to their car, laughing together before they drove off into the night. They wouldn’t return for hours.

Jeff moved quickly, sliding the spare key into the lock and stepping inside. The silence of the house greeted him. A part of him felt a strange familiarity here, the warmth of a family home—a warmth he’d never had. But the thoughts faded as his hand instinctively gripped his weak flashlight, its beam flickering in and out, betraying his budget choice of batteries. He cursed quietly; he’d hoped for better.

He climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, aware of the ticking clock. Rummaging through the dresser, he found nothing worth his trouble. As he reached the study, a soft hiss came from an old-fashioned radio on the shelf nearby.

“Welcome to the Roger Story Hour,” came the voice, crackling softly. Jeff scowled, irritated that they’d left it on.

Switching it off, he resumed his search, sifting through drawers and shelves. But his concentration was broken by the sound of the front door unlocking. His heart lurched. Someone was home!

Frantically, he shoved a drawer closed and slid beneath the bed, forcing himself into the narrow space. Footsteps, distinct and purposeful, moved toward the bedroom, stopping just inches from the bed. His pulse thundered in his ears. Through the tiny crack, he could see red high heels stop right in front of him.

The woman sighed, setting a small bottle on the dresser, the rattle of pills following. She shuffled around the room, removing her shoes, her face thankfully hidden from his view. He willed himself to stay still, not daring to move an inch.

Then, the phone rang, and she picked it up, her voice calm and unperturbed.

“Yes, I came back to grab my medicine. I’m feeling better now, thanks.”

Jeff’s relief was palpable as he heard her say goodnight and hang up. He relaxed slightly, realizing she was alone, and if he just stayed silent, he might have a chance to escape undetected.

But then, as she moved toward the bed and sat down, the radio crackled to life once again.

“Now, let’s continue our tale. Our protagonist, Catherine, is lying on her bed, book in hand, enjoying the music and the quiet night. Unbeknownst to her, however, there’s someone lying under her bed…”

Jeff’s heart pounded as he froze, the eerie description aligning too closely with his situation. From his vantage, he saw her go still as well, her shoulders stiffening.

She let out a nervous laugh, trying to convince herself it was mere coincidence. But she started shifting closer to the edge, slowly, as though peering over to confirm she was alone. Her foot dangled, then retracted sharply, just inches away from him.

The silence was maddening. His entire body screamed at him to stay still, to wait until she left the room.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she lay down, breathing deeply, the bed creaking as she settled in. Jeff waited, listening intently for the slow, rhythmic breaths that would signal she’d fallen asleep. The room grew silent, and his pulse began to steady. He couldn’t stay here all night; he had to leave.

Carefully, he shifted his body, easing himself forward to slide from beneath the bed. His gaze was focused on her hand hanging over the edge, her breathing steady. He kept his movements small, inching forward slowly.

Then he saw her hair, hanging just above him, strands so close he could almost touch them. She was facing the edge of the bed, not asleep as he’d thought, her gaze cast downward.

He froze, knowing if he moved any farther, she’d see him.

Instead, he watched as her hair slowly inched downward, as though she might lean over the edge at any moment. His heart pounded furiously, his mind racing, wondering if she suspected his presence. She hovered there for what felt like an eternity.

And then, she finally reclined, turning away.

Relieved, he let out a slow, silent exhale. Gathering his nerve, he prepared to crawl out, hoping to make his escape before the family returned.

But before he could move, headlights flashed through the window, and the sound of car doors slamming broke the quiet. His blood ran cold.

He heard the husband’s voice and the excited chattering of the child. The woman rose from bed, leaving the room, her footsteps echoing down the stairs. The three voices merged in conversation, casual and warm, filling the house with the sounds of a family reunited.

But Jeff’s blood was running cold. If she had been downstairs, who had he been hiding from? The terrifying realization set in: the woman in red wasn’t part of the family. Yet he had seen her there, seen her footsteps, her hand, her face inches away. And now, the family had returned.

Panicked, Jeff felt the room grow suffocating, a cold sweat breaking out over his body. He shifted backward, retreating farther under the bed as the family’s cheerful chatter drifted up the stairs.

Then he felt it—something pressing up against his back. He turned slowly, dreading what he might see, feeling the weight of an impossible presence.

And there, just behind him, lay another figure, its face twisted, its eyes wide, staring into his own with a terrifying, unblinking gaze.

He stifled a scream, his mind numbed by fear as he felt cold, slender fingers inch their way toward him.

Trapped beneath the bed, surrounded on all sides, Jeff finally felt the weight of his mistakes crashing down on him, an avalanche of terror from which there was no escape.