Behind the spotlight

The room was still, wrapped in the quiet hum of the heater kicking on and the faint sound of wind brushing against the windows. Billie's arm was draped over me, her hand resting lightly on my hip, and her steady breathing filled the air with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Everything felt so peaceful, almost too peaceful, as I stirred slightly, the weight of sleep still heavy on me.

And then—

BANG.

The sound shattered the quiet, loud and forceful, reverberating through the walls. I jolted awake, my heart slamming in my chest. It wasn't just a noise; it was deliberate. A fist—or something heavier—slamming against the front door.

BANG.

I froze, my body stiff with fear. The sound came again, violent and unrelenting. My gaze darted to the door at the far end of Billie's room, the soft glow of the hallway nightlight spilling under its edges. The pounding wasn't just noise—it carried weight, demanding attention.

I nudged Billie gently. "Billie," I whispered, my voice shaky. "Billie, wake up."

She didn't stir.

I shook her shoulder more urgently. "Billie, someone's at the door." My voice cracked on the last word, and I swallowed hard to push down the rising panic.

The pounding continued, each hit more aggressive, like whoever—or whatever—was on the other side was trying to break through. My breathing grew rapid, and I reached for Billie again, gripping her arm tightly this time.

"Billie, please," I pleaded, louder now, shaking her harder. But she didn't react. Her body was unnaturally still, her breathing steady as if nothing was wrong.

I turned my attention back to the door, my stomach twisting. The hallway light flickered once, twice, then went out completely, plunging the room into total darkness.

"Billie!" I cried, fear tightening around my throat like a vice. I was shaking her with both hands now, desperate for her to wake up.

She shifted slightly, and I paused, relief flooding my chest. "Finally," I muttered, letting go of her arm.

But then her breathing changed.

It wasn't slow and steady anymore. It was heavier, deliberate, like someone else's. My stomach dropped as Billie rolled onto her back. Her head turned toward me slowly, and I felt my breath hitch.

"Billie?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Her face was shadowed, her features obscured in the dim light filtering through the curtains. But then her eyes opened—wide and unblinking. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as she smiled, but it wasn't her smile.

It was his.

The grin was unmistakable, the way it curled too high, almost mocking. My chest tightened, and the room felt like it was closing in on me. I scrambled back against the headboard, my mind racing. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Miss me?" The voice was low and familiar, dripping with venom.

I couldn't breathe. The sound of my ex's voice coming from Billie's lips was too much. My hands trembled as I clutched the blanket, staring at the person who wasn't Billie anymore.

"You—you're not real," I stammered, barely able to force the words out.

His smile widened, the corners of his lips twitching unnaturally. "You never could get rid of me, could you? No matter where you go, I'll always find you."

I shook my head, tears burning my eyes as I squeezed them shut. "Wake up, Y/N," I muttered to myself. "Wake up."

But when I opened my eyes, the bed was empty. Billie was gone.