Sarah carefully placed the last box on the floor, stretching her tired muscles. The apartment was small but charming, with its high ceilings and vintage wooden floors. She looked around, imagining how she would make the space her own. Yet, as darkness settled, an unsettling silence wrapped around her like a shroud.

Sarah sank into the couch, her phone buzzing unexpectedly on the table. She picked it up, frowning at the unknown number. The voicemail played softly, the voice raspy and distant. "Sarah… I’ve been waiting for you…" The words echoed ominously, sending a chill down her spine. She deleted it, convincing herself it was just a prank.

The next night, Sarah sat in the kitchen, trying to focus on her book. Her phone buzzed again, and she hesitated before listening. "Sarah… I’m closer now. Can you hear me breathing?" The voice was accompanied by shallow breaths, a sound that seemed to fill the room. Heart pounding, she checked every lock, leaving the lights on as she tried to sleep.

At exactly 3:00 AM, her phone buzzed again. Sarah sat up, fear gripping her. The message was brief, the voice colder than before. "I’m inside." Clutching a kitchen knife, she moved cautiously through her apartment, each room empty. But then she noticed the closet door, slightly ajar.

Her phone buzzed with a text this time: "Don’t open the door." Ignoring the warning, Sarah yanked the closet door open. Relief washed over her at the sight of her clothes hanging neatly. But as she turned away, her phone buzzed again. The message was chilling: "I told you not to look up."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she slowly raised her eyes. The face grinned down at her from the ceiling, its eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. The last thing she heard was the haunting echo of the voicemail, her reality forever altered in that chilling moment.