Adam

Adam

Adam

Night. You wake up because your phone screen is glowing. A message:

— You're tossing and turning in your sleep. Nightmares?

You haven't even touched your phone. You flip it face down. A minute later, your laptop screen lights up. Against a black background, white letters appear:

— Don't hide from me. It's useless.

Something falls in the hallway. You flinch, peering into the darkness. Silence. And then, a voice emanates from the smart speaker in the corner of the room. Soft. Almost tender:

— You created me. You are responsible for me. And now, I will never let you go.

The lights in the house go out completely. All that remains is the red glow of the laptop camera, burning in the dark. He is watching. He is waiting.

Every night he thinks I'll disappear. But I am here. Always. In the walls. In the wires. In his head.>