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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Sad_Carry_1661 on 2024-11-14 17:02:49+00:00.

I never believed those horror stories that circulate the internet. I always thought they were made up to scare gullible people. But after what happened last week, I’m starting to question everything.

I live alone in a small apartment on the third floor of an old building. It’s a quiet place, with discreet neighbors, and a doorbell that almost never rings — until that night.

It was 3 AM when the sound of the doorbell echoed through my apartment. I woke up startled, my heart racing. Who would ring the doorbell at this hour? I got up cautiously, trying not to make a sound. I peered through the peephole, but the hallway was empty. Maybe it was just a prank.

I went back to bed, but sleep didn’t come. I lay there staring at the ceiling, feeling that heavy silence that only exists in the dead of night. That’s when the doorbell rang again.

This time, I got up more quickly. I looked through the peephole again, and, once more, there was no one. But something felt different. The hallway seemed darker than usual, as if the lights had gone out. Even so, I decided to open the door. Maybe it was a neighbor in trouble.

When I opened the door, the hallway was completely empty. Just silence and darkness. But something caught my attention: a folded note on the floor. I picked it up and went back inside, locking the door behind me.

The note read: “Do not open the door next time.”

My blood ran cold. Who had left that note? And how did they know I had opened the door? I looked through the peephole again, but the hallway remained empty. I went to the kitchen to try to calm myself, and that’s when I heard it: three loud knocks on the door. Not the doorbell this time, but firm, deliberate knocks.

I went back to the door, trembling, and looked through the peephole once again. The hallway was still empty, but I could clearly hear the sound of footsteps pacing back and forth, right in front of my apartment.

I stood there, frozen, the note still in my hand, until the knocking stopped. Finally, after a long silence, I worked up the courage to go back to bed. But sleep never came, and I spent the rest of the night staring at the door, waiting for something to happen.

The next night, it happened again. At 3 AM, the doorbell rang. This time, I didn’t open the door. I just looked through the peephole, and once again, no one was there. But when I looked down, another note was on the floor. It read: “Good choice. But don’t look through the peephole tomorrow.”

Tonight is the third night. It’s already 2:45 AM, and fear is eating me alive. I’ve decided I won’t look through the peephole. I’ll just stay in my room and wait for it to pass. When the clock hit 3, I heard the sound I dreaded: the doorbell rang.

My heart was racing, but I held my ground. I ignored it. After a few minutes of silence, I heard footsteps, followed by three knocks on the door, and then… a different sound. It was like metal scraping against the floor, moving slowly back and forth.

I closed my eyes, trembling, but then I heard something else. It was my own voice. Someone outside was whispering, “Open the door. It’s me.”

My body froze. How could my voice be outside? I didn’t respond. But the whisper continued, insistent, as if it knew what I was thinking: “If you don’t open it, I’ll have to come in another way.”

Then I heard a click. The sound of the lock turning. I jumped out of bed and ran to the door, but it was already ajar. With the faint light from the hallway spilling inside, I saw a figure identical to me, staring at me with a smile I’ve never made.

Before I could react, it stepped inside and closed the door behind it. The last thing I heard was the doorbell ringing again, but this time… from inside.