“2:14 A.M.” - by Onlyreal

When Sochi resumed for third year, his name wasn’t on the hostel list. But his student ID worked on one door. B214. The corridor ended there. No windows. No cross-ventilation. Just a dead end and a door that looked older than the building itself. Inside:Two beds.One neatly made.One with his name written on a masking tape strip. He didn’t remember writing it. ⸻ That first night, he woke up at exactly 2:14 a.m. Not because of a sound. Because he couldn’t breathe. The air felt… used. Like someone else had already inhaled everything in the room. Then he heard it. Breathing. Slow. Deep. Close. From the other bed. He didn’t turn immediately. Because the breathing wasn’t synced with his. It was slightly delayed. Like an echo trying to copy him. ⸻ The next morning, he went to the hostel office. “There’s no B214,” the matron said without looking up. “But I slept there.” She finally raised her eyes. Her face changed. “You shouldn’t joke about that number.” “Why?” Silence. Then she whispered: “That room was sealed.” ⸻ That night, he tried not to sleep. 2:13 a.m. He stared at his phone. 2:14. The lights went off. Not a power outage. The switch physically flipped down on its own. He watched it happen. Slowly. Like invisible fingers pressing it. The breathing started again. But this time— It was on his bed. Right behind his ear. Warm. Moist. He felt the mattress dip. Something was lying down beside him. He couldn’t move. Sleep paralysis. Or something worse. A voice, cracked and dry, whispered: “You took my bedspace.” His body began to feel heavy. Numb. Like something was pressing into him. Not on him. Into him. Through his back. Through his chest. Like it was aligning its body with his. Matching him. Merging. ⸻ His phone screen lit up on the floor. Camera open. Front camera. But he wasn’t holding it. On the screen, he saw himself on the bed. Eyes open. Frozen. And behind him— Another face. Identical. Except its smile was wider. Too wide. The thing behind him blinked. He didn’t. ⸻ The next morning, students saw Sochi walking out of B213. Confused. He laughed when they asked why he was staring at the wall. “There’s no B214,” he said casually. “There never was.” But that night, at exactly 2:14 a.m., someone in B213 woke up because they couldn’t breathe. And heard breathing. Slightly delayed. Right behind them. ⸻ The disturbing part? The hostel record now shows: Previous occupant of B214: Sochi Ihekwaba.Status: Reassigned. No one knows where.

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