Dan used to be the perfect roommate—until he locked himself in his room and stopped coming out. Now, he only talks to me through the door at night, his voice hollow and strange. Scratching sounds echo from inside, and sometimes, I hear him whispering things that don’t make sense. Then one night, I found deep claw marks on the door… from the inside. I should have left, but I had to know the truth. When I finally forced the door open, the room was empty—except for the gouges in the walls and a pile of Dan’s clothes, soaked in something dark. And from behind me, a whisper: “I told you not to open it.”