It was late, but not too late.
Just past midnight.
The kind of time where the world hasn’t completely gone quiet yet… but feels like it’s getting there.
He was lying on his bed, phone in his hand, scrolling without thinking.
Nothing important. Just passing time.
Then his phone started ringing.
He almost ignored it.
Unknown numbers at that time usually meant nothing good.
But something made him look at the screen.
And that’s when he froze.
The number calling him…
Was his own.
Exactly the same.
No difference.
No extra digit.
No mistake.
His first reaction was confusion.
“That’s not possible…”
He stared at it for a few seconds, waiting for his brain to catch up.
Maybe it was a glitch.
Maybe a bug.
Maybe some kind of spam trick.
The phone kept ringing.
He hesitated.
Then, slowly…
He answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
No static.
No background noise.
Just… silence.
He frowned.
“Hello?” he said again.
Then—
A voice.
Low.
Unsteady.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
“Don’t talk,” the voice said.
His heart stopped for a moment.
Because the voice…
Was his.
Exactly his.
Same tone.
Same rhythm.
Same everything.
His chest tightened.
“What is this?” he whispered.
The voice replied instantly.
“I said don’t talk.”
He went silent.
Not because he wanted to…
But because something inside him told him to listen.
There was breathing on the other end.
Fast.
Uneven.
Like someone was running.
Or hiding.
Then the voice spoke again.
“Listen carefully.”
His hands were shaking now.
“You don’t have much time.”
A chill ran down his spine.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
There was a pause.
Then his voice—on the phone—answered:
“You’re going to hear a knock.”
His heart started pounding.
“And when you do…”
Another pause.
“Don’t open the door.”
Silence filled the room.
He looked toward his bedroom door.
Closed.
Still.
Nothing there.
“This isn’t funny,” he said.
“I’m not joking,” the voice replied.
And this time…
It sounded more desperate.
“Please… just listen to me.”
That word hit him.
Please.
His own voice…
Begging.
Then suddenly—
A sound.
A knock.
From the front door.
His entire body froze.
Three slow knocks.
Exactly like the voice said.
His breath stopped.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
The phone was still at his ear.
The voice whispered:
“Don’t go.”
Another knock.
Louder this time.
His heart was racing so fast it hurt.
“Who is it?” he shouted, instinctively.
The voice on the phone immediately said:
“No—don’t talk to it!”
But it was too late.
Because from the other side of the door…
Came an answer.
Soft.
Calm.
Familiar.
“It’s me.”
His chest tightened instantly.
Because that voice…
Was also his.
