The scratching won't stop. It won't stop. Pencil on paper. That's not a scary sound, but it is when your roommate is at a party for the evening. It sounded like it came from the living room, but it could be anywhere. Someone is here. But how? There is no way he came back early, he'd text me, so who the hell is it? I need to be ready to face this intruder. I'm going to grab the knife from my nightstand and go check it out. Out there, a form is hunched over the table, just writing. What is it writing? What does it want? I have to kill it before it kills me. Oh god, I hope I'm wrong I don't wanna be right I don't wanna be right I don't.

Huh. It was him. He actually did text me, I just never noticed. Guess I should go wash out the blood...