The Voice Inside the Walls

When Imran moved into the apartment, everything seemed perfect.

Affordable rent.

Quiet neighborhood.

Clean rooms.

It felt like a fresh start.

The first night was peaceful.

The second night… was not.

At exactly 3:07 AM, Imran woke up.

A faint sound filled the room.

At first, he thought it was wind.

But then he heard it clearly.

A voice.

Coming from inside the walls.

“…hello…”

Imran sat up slowly.

“What…?”

He listened carefully.

Silence.

Then again—

“…can you hear me…”

His heart started beating faster.

He stood up and walked toward the wall.

Pressed his ear against it.

The voice became clearer.

“…please help me…”

Imran stepped back.

“This is not normal…”

The next night, it happened again.

Same time.

3:07 AM.

The voice returned.

But this time—

It sounded familiar.

Too familiar.

Imran froze.

It was his own voice.

“…Imran… don’t ignore me…”

His hands started shaking.

“No… this is some kind of echo…”

But deep down—

He knew it wasn’t.

Days passed.

The voice grew louder.

Clearer.

More desperate.

“…I’m trapped…”

“…you need to find me…”

“…before it finds you…”

Imran tried everything.

Knocking on walls.

Calling neighbors.

Even checking building plans.

Nothing explained it.

There was no space inside the walls.

No hidden rooms.

Nothing.

One night, the voice changed.

It wasn’t scared anymore.

It sounded… urgent.

“…listen carefully…”

Imran leaned closer.

“What?”

“…there’s a door…”

“A door where?”

“…inside the wall…”

Imran stared at the wall in disbelief.

“That’s impossible.”

“…you have to open it…”

The wall suddenly made a cracking sound.

Imran jumped back.

A thin line appeared across the surface.

Like a crack forming.

Slowly—

The crack widened.

Forming the outline of a door.

Right in front of him.

Imran’s breathing became heavy.

“This… this can’t be real…”

The voice whispered softly.

“…open it…”

His hand trembled as he reached forward.

He pushed.

The wall-door creaked open.

Inside—

Darkness.

Cold air rushed out.

And something else.

A smell.

Rotten.

Old.

Imran stepped inside.

The space was narrow.

Like a hidden corridor.

The walls felt damp.

Alive.

“…keep coming…” the voice whispered.

He followed it.

Step by step.

Until he reached the end.

And saw—

A man.

Trapped inside the wall.

Barely alive.

Weak.

Pale.

Imran’s heart nearly stopped.

It was him.

Same face.

Same clothes.

Same fear.

The trapped version of Imran looked up.

“You came…”

Imran stumbled back.

“What is this?”

The other version spoke slowly.

“I didn’t listen… and it trapped me here…”

“What trapped you?”

The walls around them began to move.

Shifting.

Closing in.

The trapped Imran’s eyes widened.

“It’s coming…”

The darkness behind them twisted.

A shape formed.

Tall.

Massive.

Made of shadows and cracks.

Its voice echoed from everywhere.

“You opened the door.”

Imran tried to run.

But the corridor stretched.

Endless.

The exit disappeared.

The walls pulsed like something alive.

The trapped Imran grabbed his arm.

“Listen to me… one of us has to stay…”

“What?!”

“It only needs one…”

The shadow moved closer.

Faster.

The walls tightened.

Breathing became impossible.

The lights in the apartment turned on suddenly.

Morning.

Everything looked normal.

No cracks.

No door.

No corridor.

Imran stood in his room.

Alone.

Breathing heavily.

He looked at the wall.

Silent.

Still.

Normal.

That night, at exactly 3:07 AM—

The voice returned.

But this time—

It wasn’t asking for help.

It was calling out.

“…hello…”

“…can you hear me…”

Imran froze.

Because now—

The voice inside the wall…

Was him.

Expansion: The Descent

Imran tried to ignore it.

Earplugs.

Music.

Sleeping pills.

Nothing worked.

At 3:07 AM, the voice always came.

Sometimes whispering.

Sometimes screaming.

Sometimes… laughing.

Neighbors began to complain.

They said they heard banging.

Scratching.

Even crying.

But when Imran asked, none of them admitted it was their voice.

They looked at him strangely.

As if he was the problem.

One evening, Imran noticed something new.

The walls weren’t just silent during the day.

They were… watching.

He felt it.

Every time he moved, the walls seemed to breathe.

The paint bubbled slightly.

Like skin.

He tried to leave the apartment.

Packed his bags.

But the door wouldn’t open.

The lock turned, but the door stayed shut.

The windows wouldn’t break.

The phone had no signal.

It was as if the apartment itself had swallowed him whole.

At 3:07 AM, the voice grew louder.

“…you can’t leave…”

“…you belong here…”

“…we are the same…”

Imran screamed at the wall.

“Why me?!”

The voice answered calmly.

“…because you opened the door…”

The corridor appeared again.

The crack widened.

The smell returned.

Rotten.

Old.

Imran stepped inside once more.

But this time, the corridor was different.

Longer.

Twisting.

Filled with whispers.

Voices of others.

“…help me…”

“…don’t listen…”

“…it’s too late…”

At the end of the corridor, Imran saw dozens of figures.

All versions of himself.

Some trapped.

Some screaming.

Some silent.

All staring at him.

The shadow loomed behind them.

It spoke with a thousand voices.

“You are mine.”

Imran ran.

But every step led him deeper.

Every wall he touched pulsed with his heartbeat.

Every whisper echoed his thoughts.

He realized the truth.

There was no escape.

The apartment wasn’t a place.

It was a prison.

And he had built it himself.

Morning came.

Imran sat in his room.

The walls were quiet.

Too quiet.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror.

But the reflection didn’t move.

It smiled.

And whispered—

“…hello…”