When the Walls Whisper

Contains themes of mental health, physical violence, gore, and abuse.

The front door towered over her.

With its goliath stature and white-painted wooden frame, it seemed like it was bracing itself to collapse. The air in the foyer was still, so still it tasted stale. Staring widely at her aggressor, Lisa felt as if she was a bug falling victim to a young child's foot- waiting for her body to crunch against the hardwood floor, reduced to nothing but an unnoticeable smear to be hastily wiped away. Click. Click. Click. The fan whirring and clinking in the next room was like a timer about to go off. Inching closer to the brass knob, Lisa felt each second take an eternity to pass. She didn't have much time left. This was it. With a breath so deep it could only have come from the depths of her soul, she watched as each of her fingers grasped the frigid metal handle.

           Just twist the damn thing, she thought. Before Lisa could even comprehend making a brave attempt, the vomit rose in her throat. Her time was up. All at once, the walls began to shrink around her like a vacuum-sealed bag, depleting the house of oxygen. Overcome with the fear of choking to death on her own sick, Lisa crawled down the hallway into the bathroom. Tears stung her eyes while she retched into the toilet, anxiety latching onto her like a noose around her neck. She attempted to do this every day. Wake up, have a cup of coffee, write in her journal, and then get ready to leave the house. Except she hadn't left her home in over a year.

           The house itself looked crippled with loneliness. With its windows blacked out with a tarp and the front yard severely overgrown, it almost appeared abandoned. Trash bags littered the front porch, waiting for the garbage truck to arrive on Wednesdays, although they didn't always make it there on time. The mailbox sat tilted on the corner at the end of the driveway, collapsing from the overflow of magazines, subscription offers, and postcards from her family. Lisa used to be embarrassed by the state of her home, hyper-aware of what those passing by must think, but she had a solid justification for the severity of her mess- If I leave this house, I will die.

           Her cell phone vibrated against the edge of the acrylic bathtub. Fear struck her belly so suddenly that she was almost convinced she had been stabbed. Slowly reaching for the violently ringing phone, Lisa peered at the unrecognizable number.

Unknown: how are you doing

Lisa: How many times do I need to block you so you can get the hint that I want nothing to do with you?

Unknown: idk what your talking about L, I thought we were doing better

Lisa: You sure as hell have a weird way of defining better. Please leave me alone.

Unknown: I'm trying babe, its been over a year. you know I love you

Lisa: If you loved me, you wouldn't have cheated. Or anything else. I don't need more of your "I'm getting better" bullshit because it's never happened in the past and it never will.

Unknown: i clearly didnt beat the bitchy attitude out of you hard enough you whore.

 Lisa lost count of how many times her eyes glazed over the cruel words; if she stared at them long enough, each letter appeared to pulse in and out as if they were taking furious breaths. Her hands trembled as she pressed down on the power button, but the words were already burned into her mind, seeping into the cracks of her broken shell. She knew this would happen; it always did. He never really left. Not completely.

Even with every number blocked, every social media account deleted, every door locked, and every window covered—he still found ways to reach her. To remind her. The walls still felt like they were closing in, but now they were whispering, their silent voices twisting his words through the creaky floorboards and the rattling pipes. Lisa clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms until she felt the sting.

You are here. You are real.

But was she?

The sudden rattling of the front door handle snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. Her blood turned to ice. Had she locked it? She was sure she had. She checked. Twice. A resounding knock echoed through the house, slow and deliberate. Lisa's breath hitched in her throat. She forced herself to move, sliding off the cold bathroom tile and onto shaky legs, pressing her back against the wall, listening. Another knock. Harder this time. Then, silence.

Maybe it was a delivery? A neighbor? But no one ever came here. No one ever checked on her anymore. Lisa reached for her phone again, her fingers hesitating over the screen. Call the police? No, they never took her seriously—not when it came to him. Instead, she opened her camera app, switching to the front door's security feed. The camera flickered, loading slower than usual. When the image finally appeared, her stomach twisted into a thousand knots. No one was there.

The porch was empty.

The wind had picked up slightly, rustling the overgrown weeds, but nothing moved beyond that. Lisa felt the weight of her body sink further into the wall, relief and confusion crashing into each other. Maybe she was losing it. Perhaps she had imagined the sound.

Or maybe…

Her gaze darted to the hallway, to the small gap at the bottom of the front door. A shadow moved past it. Nausea returned instantly. Lisa didn't breathe. She didn't move.

Then—

Click.

The front door unlocked. Lisa's mind screamed at her to run, but her body refused to cooperate. The doorknob twisted slowly, deliberately, as if whoever was on the other side was savoring her horror. Stumbling backward, she pressed herself against the wall, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The air in the house seemed to thicken, pressing down on her like an invisible force. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything but the slow, agonizing creak of the door opening. She squinted, her vision swimming with terror. The doorway yawned open as she waited for a sound, a breath, a footstep- anything. A voice slithered through the widening gap, a whisper of air with the scent of damp earth, something old and rotting.

"Lisa…I missed you."

Her phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor. The noise sent a shockwave through her, causing her stomach to clench at the sickening familiarity. Lisa squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away. He wasn't real. He couldn't be real. But the heavy and deliberate footsteps headed in her direction told her differently. Her bare feet slapped across the hardwood as she bolted down the hallway, her shoulder smashing into the bathroom doorframe on her way past. Pain shot through her arm, but she didn't stop. She needed to hide.

Throwing herself into her bedroom, Lisa slammed the door shut and locked it. Tears pricked her eyes once more, her gaze darting around the room. The closet? No. Under the bed? Too obvious. Building up her courage, her fingers gripped her phone so tightly it hurt as she dialed 9-1-1 and pressed the call button. The dial tone buzzed in her ear. Another creak- closer this time. Right outside her door.

Then, the worst sound of all.

All the hairs on Lisa's arms stood at the metallic scrape of metal on metal and a sudden click of the lock. He had a key.

She could make out his almost anachronistic appearance from behind the large armchair. He towered over her bed in the dim light of her room, his presence commanding and unsettling. His brown hair, tousled and rugged, frames a face dominated by a mix of anger and cold calculation. The room trembles under the weight of his intrusion, fraught with the quiet menace of the dangerous unpredictability of a man driven by unresolved fury. Peering past the legs of the chair, Lisa's heart dropped with every shift of his brown leather boots. He exhales slowly; the sound almost amused, almost expectant.

"I know you're in here, babe," he sneered. "You can't keep ignoring me."

His voice had her heartbeat slamming against Lisa's ribs. She had locked the door. She had checked.

She had checked.

Before she could blink, the chair flung from in front of her, the shield between them broken into pieces on the carpet. She screamed, desperately clawing her way out of his grasp. Lisa threw herself toward the open space, darting past him as his fingers grazed her wrist. She barely felt it before running, the hallway's cold air biting at her skin. The living room loomed ahead, its familiar layout now a battlefield in her mind. She had seconds before he caught up, her eyes darting wildly until they landed on salvation. The fire poker rested against the fireplace, its iron handle cold and solid as she yanked it free. Lisa spun around just as heavy footfalls thundered behind her.

The air in the room warped around him, the edges of his body blurring like a smudged painting. His eyes- God, his eyes- weren't right. Lisa's stomach twisted violently. "Why are you doing this?" She whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears. His head tilted, his lips curling into a cruel smirk.

"You need me," he taunted.

 She forced her eyes open, gripping the fire poker so hard her knuckles turned white. "You're not real."

He took another step forward. "Aren't I?"

The room around them twisted, the walls shrinking and expanding like a living thing. Memories rushed at Lisa all at once; the screaming, the fighting, his hands around her wrists and throat. The overwhelming grief she felt for her body, her mind, and her dignity fueled a fire in her belly she had never felt before. With a swift motion, Lisa swung with all her strength as he lunged toward her. The fire poker arced through the air with a sharp whistle before landing with a sickening crack against the side of his head. The impact jolted up her arms, rattling her bones, but she didn't let go. He staggered, eyes wide with shock, before crumpling to the floor. A thin trickle of blood ran down his temple, pooling at the corner of his mouth. He let out a low groan, the room eerily silent except for the gurgling noises, which suddenly came to a halt. The suffocating air lifted; the walls stopped closing in.

Lisa stepped back, chest heaving, as the room returned to normal. The silence was deafening. The door was closed, locked, just as she had left it. When she turned around, the bloodied body was gone. Her legs gave out as she crumpled to the floor, the fire poker clattering beside her. She had felt the door unlock. She had heard the knocks. She had seen the texts, hadn't she?

Hadn't she?

Scrambling for her phone, she needed proof. She needed to see it, needed something real to tell her what had happened. Her fingers fumbled over the screen, opening her messages. Her stomach plummeted. There was nothing there. No texts. No unknown number. No threats. Just an empty chat history, staring back at her like an open wound. He had never existed beyond the bruises of her past. A sharp gasp tore through her lungs.

Lisa's eyes flew open. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, white, and sterile. Harsh fluorescent lights hummed overhead; the scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils. Her fingers twitched against the stiff sheets. A heart monitor beeped steadily beside her as the sounds of machines whirring echoed. She tried to move, but restraints held her wrists in place. The door to the room opened, and a woman in scrubs entered, her face kind but unreadable. "Lisa? Can you hear me?" Lisa's throat was dry. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. The nurse approached slowly, checking the IV in her arm. "You've been here for a while," she said softly. "You were found alone in your house. The neighbors heard screaming and then called the police. Do you remember?"

Her lips parted, but no words came. The woman offered a small but cautious smile. "You've been through a lot. But you're safe now." Lisa turned her head to the side, her gaze settling on the mirror across the room. Her breath caught in her throat as a shadow moved behind her reflection; she could still feel him standing there, watching her, whispering her name in that voice that never really existed. He had never left because she had never let him. But he couldn't hurt her anymore. And for the first time in over a year, Lisa refused.

Her breath evened. Her pulse steadied. And when she opened her eyes again-

He was gone.