The laugh didn’t come from outside.

It came from the back seat.

Not loud. Not sudden. Just… there—like it had been waiting the whole time for me to notice.

I didn’t turn around. Every instinct screamed not to. My hands stayed frozen on the wheel, knuckles white, breath shallow. The kind of silence that presses against your ears filled the car, thick and suffocating.

Another step outside.

Crunch. Gravel.

Slow. Measured. Circling.

Then—tap.

Not on the window.

On the trunk.

Something dragging along the metal, like fingernails… or something trying to remember what fingernails used to be.

The rearview mirror tilted on its own.

Just a fraction.

Just enough.

There was nothing in the back seat.

Until it blinked.

I swear to God—there was nothing, and then there was. A shape folding itself into the space like it didn’t quite fit inside the world properly. Too many joints. Not enough edges. Watching me with eyes that reflected light that didn’t exist.

Outside, the footsteps stopped.

Inside, the thing smiled.

And the engine—

The engine just turned over.

By itself.

The radio crackled to life, spitting static before settling into a voice. Calm. Familiar. Wrong.

“You shouldn’t have stopped.”

The doors unlocked.

All of them.

At once.

I can hear it breathing now. Not outside.

Closer.

If this cuts out, don’t come looking.

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