The thumping of my heart was the only sound in the oppressive darkness of my room. Sweat plastered my hair to my forehead, and tears traced paths through it, a grim testament to the nightmare that had just clawed its way out of my sleep. The clock beside my bed glowed 1:58 AM, a cruel reminder that sleep had once again abandoned me.

Weeks of these terrifying visions had left me a prisoner of my own mind, each dawn a weary surrender to the fear that clung to me like a shroud. I slid out of my warm bed, the cold night air biting at my bare legs. My flimsy shorts were no match for the chill, so I wrapped myself in a fluffy blue blanket, my feet finding solace in matching slippers.

Downstairs, the kettle clicked on, promising a large coffee. I gazed out the window, the world outside a canvas of impenetrable black, save for the swaying branches of unseen trees and a few defiant stars. Then, a flicker—a shadow at the edge of my vision. I turned, but it was gone, dismissed as a trick of my sleep-deprived mind.

The kettle boiled, and as I turned from making my coffee, my cup still steaming in my hand, I saw him. A tall man, silhouetted against the pre-dawn gloom, standing at my kitchen door.