It was an unusually cold October night when Jessica moved into her new home, a remote old farmhouse she had purchased for a steal. The previous owner’s family had abruptly left the area, though she hadn't thought to ask why. The house was quaint yet a bit unsettling; tall, narrow windows lined its front, all facing the long, barren road stretching into the darkness.

That first night, Jessica was exhausted from moving. She unpacked only the essentials, set up her bed, and quickly fell asleep. Sometime later, she woke up to an eerie silence; no crickets, no wind, nothing at all. She lay there in bed, feeling the weight of an unsettling presence. Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed something strange. A figure was standing outside her bedroom window, silhouetted against the dim glow of the porch light. The figure was motionless, face hidden in shadow, and hands pressed against the glass.

Heart racing, Jessica stumbled back, her hand fumbling for her phone. She dialed 911 but, glancing back at the window, saw only the pale glass reflecting her own frightened face. The figure was gone.

The police arrived and, after a thorough search, told her there was no sign of anyone around the house. Maybe it was a trick of the light, they suggested, or just her nerves from moving into a new place. She thanked them, though uneasily, and tried to brush it off. But that feeling of being watched didn’t fade.

Over the next few nights, she felt it again: someone observing her, just out of sight. At first, it was a chill that crawled down her neck, but soon, it became unmistakable. Every night, at the exact same time, she would wake to see the same figure, staring through her window. And each time, it seemed closer than the last, moving from the edge of the yard, to the porch, until, on the fourth night, it was standing just outside her bedroom window again, its eyes seeming to burn into her own.

Desperate, she confided in her neighbor, an old man who had lived in the area for decades. He grew pale at her description and urged her to leave the house. He told her of the previous owner, who had been haunted by the same figure until his sanity shattered, leaving him a hollow shell of himself.

That night, Jessica decided to stay awake, watching the clock, trying to catch the figure. But when midnight came and went with no sighting, she thought maybe, just maybe, it had left her alone.

Just as she was drifting off, her phone buzzed on her nightstand, lighting up with a notification: One new message.

The message read, I’m here for you now, and it was accompanied by a photo, taken from right outside her window. In it, she could see her own terrified face looking back at her from the glass. Behind her, a dark figure loomed, closer than ever before.

Jessica spun around, but the room was empty. A shiver ran through her as she realized, it wasn’t outside anymore. It was here, inside the house, watching her every move. And from that moment, no one ever saw Jessica again. But sometimes, on cold October nights, people driving past the old farmhouse swear they can still see her, a figure staring out, hands pressed against the glass.