Chapter 1
1004words
The moment I opened my eyes, I found my right arm raised high in the air, just like raising my hand to speak in a classroom.
This was really bizarre—I've never had the habit of maintaining such a posture while sleeping, and it felt like my arm had been in that position for a long time, somewhat numb and sore.
I stared at the familiar water stain on the ceiling for a full two minutes, trying to recall what happened before falling asleep last night. I was certain that I had fallen asleep on my side, with both hands supposed to be under my pillow.
But now this arm was rigidly pointing at the ceiling, with a slight stinging sensation at the joint, as if it had been maintaining this posture for several hours.
Perhaps it was a muscular reaction while dreaming? I tried hard to recall if I had any special dreams, but my mind was completely blank.
Usually I remember fragments of dreams, especially those with intense scenes, but this morning I couldn't recall anything. There was only that vague feeling, as if someone was speaking softly in the darkness, but I had absolutely no impression of what was said.
After finishing my morning routine, I encountered the second anomaly while preparing breakfast in the kitchen.
In the trash can beside the refrigerator, there was a takeout box I had never seen before. The box was white with a "Taste Fairy Kitchen" logo printed on it—I had no recollection of this restaurant name. I've been living in this area for three years and am familiar with all the restaurants nearby, but have never heard of this place. Even stranger was that there were still some rice and dishes left in the box, looking like only half had been eaten, and I would absolutely never waste food.
I could almost certainly confirm that I hadn't ordered any takeout last night.
Yesterday's dinner was self-made tomato and egg noodles, and the dishes are still unwashed in the sink. Moreover, there are no order records from any food delivery apps on my phone, nor can I find any related expenses in my payment history.
What disturbs me even more is that I found a blister pack of pills on the kitchen counter. The packaging reads "Zopiclone Tablets," a medication I'm completely unfamiliar with. I immediately searched this drug name on my phone, and the results show it's a prescription sleeping pill, mainly used to treat insomnia.
Two pills are missing from the blister pack, yet I have no memory of this.
I couldn't have bought this medicine myself. First, I don't have any insomnia issues, and second, this prescription drug requires a doctor's prescription to purchase. I haven't seen any doctors recently, nor have I been troubled by insomnia. So how did these pills appear in my kitchen? Who has used them?
My heart begins to race.
Someone has been inside my apartment.
I immediately began a thorough inspection. First, the entrance door—the lock was intact, with no signs of being jimmied or damaged. I carefully examined the paint around the keyhole and found no evidence of scratches or impacts. The door frame was also intact, and the bolt and chain were in normal condition. I even inspected the keyhole with a magnifying glass and saw no metal fragments or foreign objects.
The balcony doors and windows were also problem-free. The layer of dust on the window frames remained undisturbed, and there were no fingerprints or other contact marks on the glass. I live on the fourth floor, making it nearly impossible to climb in from outside, and the balcony door latch was still intact. Bedroom, living room, bathroom—I carefully checked every window, and the results were all the same: no signs of external intrusion.
But who could explain the presence of those takeout containers and medications?
In the afternoon, I went to a nearby hardware store and bought two extra door bolts and a set of window security locks. After returning home, I spent a full two hours installing these devices. Now the front door has three locks, and each window has been fitted with internal latches. Although this might seem excessive, at least it helps me sleep a little more peacefully at night.
After completing the installation, I attached several thin threads to the door and window frames. If anyone tries to enter, these threads will definitely break. I also sprinkled some flour on the floor; any footprints would leave marks on it.
For dinner, I deliberately boiled two eggs and kept the eggshells intact, then carefully placed them at the doorway and balcony entrance. If anyone passes through, the eggshells will make a crisp sound.
It's now 11:17 PM, and I'm preparing to go to bed.
Before lying down, I very carefully recorded my sleeping position: lying on my left side, left hand under the pillow, right hand on my chest. I specifically took a photo for reference.
I also placed a voice recorder on the bedside table, set to voice-activated recording mode. If there are any unusual sounds during the night, they will be recorded. My fully charged phone is beside my pillow, ready to call emergency services at any moment.
To be honest, my feelings right now are very complicated. On one hand, reason tells me that I might have just misremembered something, or that those items actually belonged to me, and I simply forgot about them. On the other hand, deep inside there's an indescribable sense of fear, as if some invisible threat is approaching.
That arm suspended in mid-air, those unfamiliar medications, and the takeout food I have absolutely no memory of ordering—all of these point to an unsettling possibility: either there's something wrong with my memory, or someone is truly entering my life without my knowledge.
In any case, I'll remain vigilant tonight. I hope when I wake up tomorrow morning, everything will have returned to normal.
