Androvid_6316mp4

A notification chirped on his desktop. A new file had just appeared in the folder: AndroVid_6317.mp4.

The video opened to a static shot of a darkened hallway. It was his hallway, leading from the kitchen to the bedroom. The timestamp in the corner read 03:14 AM—exactly twenty-four hours ago. AndroVid_6316mp4

Elias froze. The video ended, the screen snapping to black. The reflection of his own pale face stared back at him from the glossy finish of his 27-inch display. A notification chirped on his desktop

Elias didn't open this one. He didn't have to. He could hear the faint sound of footsteps clicking on the hardwood floor directly behind his chair. It was his hallway, leading from the kitchen to the bedroom

Slowly, his heart hammering against his ribs, Elias gripped the edges of his desk. He began to lean to the side, his eyes locked on the narrow, dusty gap between the back of his monitor and the cold brick wall of his apartment.

Then, his sleep-self leaned in and whispered something. The audio was a distorted hiss, but Elias turned his speakers to the maximum. "Don't look behind the monitor," the recording rasped.