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The Unseen Guest
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An unreleased short story from the book:
Love Me to Death: Disturbing Tales of Online Dating Gone Horribly Wrong
Tom had never been one for online dating. The idea of meeting people through a screen felt shallow and disconnected, but after his recent breakup, he had found himself scrolling through profiles late at night, feeling more lonely than ever. That’s when he saw her—Amelia. Her profile was simple: a few candid photos, a soft smile, and a quiet, mysterious air about her. She didn’t seem like the others—she wasn’t overtly flirty or attention-seeking, but her words made him pause.
“Sometimes the world feels too loud. I’d rather find someone who’s willing to listen.”
It was a sentence that spoke to something inside him, a deep longing he hadn’t acknowledged. The loneliness felt suffocating lately, and Amelia’s words made him feel like he wasn’t the only one who understood. He sent her a message, and before long, they were talking about everything from their favorite books to the mundane details of daily life. She was a rarity, someone who wasn’t just looking for a quick fling but seemed to want something real, something deeper.
After a few weeks of messaging, she invited him to meet.
“I don’t like going out much,” she had told him. “But I’d love to have you over at my place. It’s quieter here.”
The invitation felt oddly intimate, but something in her tone suggested she was shy, perhaps even a little nervous. He agreed without hesitation, eager to meet the woman who had intrigued him so much. She gave him her address, and he made plans to drive over that evening.
The apartment was on the top floor of an old building, the kind that had once been a grand structure but had fallen into disrepair. The hallways smelled faintly of mildew, and the flickering lightbulbs gave the whole place an eerie, dim atmosphere. Tom’s footsteps echoed as he approached the door. He hesitated for a moment, then knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, more firmly this time. Still nothing.
His pulse quickened. Had something gone wrong? Was she sick? Maybe she had changed her mind. But the door was unlocked, a crack just wide enough for him to see inside. Tom pushed it open, and the creaking hinges sent a shiver down his spine.
“Amelia?” he called, stepping into the darkened apartment.
The space was barren, save for a few pieces of furniture—a couch, a small coffee table, and a lamp in the corner. But what caught his attention immediately were the cameras. They were everywhere—mounted in the corners of every room, pointing at him. Some were hidden in the shadows, others were positioned at odd angles.
The unsettling silence weighed heavily on him. It was a strange, sterile kind of silence, like the apartment had been empty for a long time. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner.
“Hello?” he called again, his voice wavering. His nerves were frayed as the cameras seemed to track his every movement, their cold lenses fixed on him. Was this some kind of prank? A hidden camera show? He didn’t know, but it felt wrong, unsettling.
As he stepped deeper into the room, his eyes scanned the space. There was no sign of Amelia, no indication of where she might be. The apartment seemed lifeless, save for the cameras that watched him with unsettling precision.
A soft beep sounded behind him. He turned to see a screen flicker to life on the far wall, revealing a grainy image of a figure. Amelia. She was sitting in a chair, facing the camera, her expression distant, as though she had been waiting for him. She didn’t speak immediately, just stared at him with wide, expectant eyes.
“Amelia?” Tom asked, his voice strained. “What is this? Why are you filming me?”
Her lips curved into a faint, unsettling smile. “Welcome, Tom,” she said, her voice flat but controlled. “You’re here to play.”
“Play?” he asked, confusion twisting his gut. “What do you mean?”
The screen behind her flickered again, and suddenly the apartment seemed to come alive. A low, mechanical hum filled the room as the cameras adjusted their angles, tracking his every movement. It felt as if he were trapped in a cage of lenses, each one focused on him, observing him, waiting.
“You’re part of the game now,” Amelia continued, her voice calm, almost soothing. “The audience is already watching. They’ve been waiting for this. For you.”
Tom felt his stomach drop. “What are you talking about? Who’s watching?”
“Everyone,” she said simply. “Everyone who wants to see you… suffer. You were chosen, Tom. Chosen to be part of this.”
He stepped back, his pulse racing. “Chosen? This is insane! I didn’t sign up for this!”
Amelia’s smile never faltered. “You did, Tom. You did the moment you agreed to meet me. You’ve already played your part by coming here. Now, you’ll do what they want, or they’ll make you.”
The words hung in the air like a deadly whisper. He wanted to scream, to break the cameras, to escape, but the door slammed shut behind him. There was no way out. No escape.
“I’ll make this quick,” Amelia said, her tone shifting to something darker. “The rules are simple. You do what I say, and you keep the game going. But if you resist, they’ll make sure you regret it.”
A door in the corner of the room clicked open, and Tom’s heart sank. A new figure entered—a man in a mask, holding a heavy camera rig. His eyes were cold, calculating. The man silently set the camera down in front of Tom, turning the lens to face him.
Tom realized, with horror, that this wasn’t a game. This was real. Every move he made was being broadcast to an anonymous audience, watching, waiting to see him break, to see him beg.
Amelia stood up and walked toward him, her footsteps slow, deliberate. “It’s up to you now,” she said. “Follow the rules, and you might just make it out alive. Resist, and you’ll be the next victim.”
Her eyes bore into him, and Tom realized that he had become part of something much darker than he could ever have imagined. This was no longer about dating. It was about exploitation, about torture, about a twisted game played by people who got off on others’ suffering.
The camera in front of him zoomed in slightly, capturing his every breath, his every twitch. The man in the mask positioned the camera with care, as though setting the perfect shot.
A voice crackled over the speakers, garbled but clear enough to understand.
“Let’s see how long he lasts, shall we?”
Tom’s world began to spin. The weight of what was happening crashed down on him. He wasn’t just here to meet someone. He was a part of a grotesque show, his pain and fear the entertainment of faceless, anonymous spectators.
And as the hours ticked by, the tension in the apartment mounted. The cameras focused on his every movement, every reaction. The questions in his mind grew frantic: How long will they keep me here? How much more will I have to endure? But the most chilling thought of all was the realization that there was no escape. No way to leave.
The screens blinked once more, and Amelia’s face returned, still serene, as though none of this had any effect on her.
“Let’s begin, Tom,” she said. Her eyes gleamed, and Tom realized, too late, that he had been drawn into something monstrous.
The audience had begun their silent applause.
Hours later, Tom’s mind had become a blur of pain and confusion. He no longer knew where the game ended and where his reality began. He was a puppet, jerked by invisible strings, a figure on display for an audience that only cared about his suffering.
The door to the apartment was still locked. The cameras still watched. And as the whispers from the anonymous viewers in his ear grew louder, Tom knew one terrifying truth: he would never leave this place.
And the worst part? He had become addicted to the attention.
If you enjoyed this short story you will probably like our latest release available now:
Love Me to Death: Disturbing Tales of Online Dating Gone Horribly Wrong
“Love Me to Death” dives deeply into the chilling abyss of online dating, where hope and romance quickly devolve into horror, manipulation, and death.
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