[ WP ] A serial killer has found his next victim and begins his normal routine of peeking through windows and popping up in mirrors , looking for that rush he gets off on . Unfortunately , his newest victim is a horror movie fan and has constructed his life around the prevention of such jump scares .

The moment my roommates left for vacation, our house took on a different, darker persona. Something felt... off. I believed at first that I was imagining things, but it quickly became apparent that this was not the case. I could n't sleep for the footsteps outside my door. I could n't turn off the lights for the breathing down my neck. I could n't hide for the feeling of being endlessly watched. Something was coming, and I was nervous with excitement. I had been ready for this day for so long. 
 
 My alarm goes off promptly at 6:04 AM. This is just enough time for me to leave my home by 7:19 and arrive at work at exactly 7:30, assuming normal traffic. The Wednesday after my roommates left I awoke as normal. I walked in a tired, unsteady, painful daze to the bathroom and flipped the light switch. From the corner of my tired, sleep-filled eyes, I could see what appeared to be the dark silhouette of a person in the reflection, peering into the bathroom from just outside the window. 
 Without thinking I immediately shut my eyes, let out a horrible screech to cover any sudden sounds, and opened the middle right drawer on the cabinet below the mirror. I had rehearsed this drill enough to know that the hammer was in the back of the drawer laying horizontally. I shattered the mirror, closed the bathroom door, and opened my eyes. 
 
 `` Thank God!'' I sighed. `` That was close. I nearly saw him!'' 
 
 I performed my morning routine normally and left for work without further incident. Upon returning home that evening, I was filled with a sense of dread. It was already dark on this cold Winter evening and everything, though normal, appeared out of place inside my home. The warm light of my incandescent bulbs ( fluorescent bulbs are too hospital-esque for my comfort ) seemed awfully cool tonight. Realizing that this deafening silence could at any moment give way to the sudden sound of a frightening orchestral piece, I quickly produced the phone from my pocket and commanded my house-wide speaker system to play Mika's `` Grace Kelly'' on repeat at full volume. 
 
 `` That should cover up any unexpected violin slides and screeches,'' I said with a smirk. 
 
 I turned for no reason in particular toward the black television screen which faces opposite to the front windows of my abode. Though the matte-black screen of this relatively old plasma television blurred any reflections cast upon it, I could see a faint outline and the subtle facial features of somebody peering into my home from the darkened front yard. 
 
 `` Egad!'' 
 
 Without thinking I immediately grabbed the television remote from the coffee table in front of me and hurled it toward the TV screen with a quick cast of the arm. Immediately after removing the reflection I synchronously stomped my feet and clapped my hands twice, producing a sound just loud enough for my decades-old hand-me-down clapper system to recognize over Grace Kelly, triggering the descent of every set of blinds in the house. 
 
 `` You may break in and murder me tonight,'' I said coyly, `` but you wo n't startle me first!'' 
 
 My sleep was interrupted early in the morning hours by a cold sweat. Whenever this occurs, I flail my limbs and body blindly and wildly before opening my eyes, lest I open them to see someone hovering just above me. Feeling assured that nobody is within my personal space, I slowly opened my eyes, just in time to witness a shadow slip out of my cracked bedroom door and down the hallway. 
 
 I followed in hot pursuit, making sure to swing both my arms in full circles like the blades of a windmill to knock out anybody who may be near me but not visible. My assailant screamed in fear from somewhere ahead of me. I had him. The stomping of my feet caused the blinds to rise and fall over and over. The phone, always in my pocket just in case, signaled the resumption of my Grace Kelly-only playlist at maximum volume. The situation had suddenly turned spooky. 
 
 I was losing control. In my efforts to tame the unsettling circumstances I had found myself in, I had only succeeded in scaring myself. Fright filled the whole of my soul and I collapsed. I activated my only remaining defense system. I tightly shut my eyes and flailed as crazily and violently as I could. My arms and legs became maces of war, deadly to anybody within a 3 foot radius of me. Suddenly the music stopped. I sat myself up to a motionless and silent position as the shadow from before - no, two shadows - slid closer to me, inch by terrifying inch. The lights turned on and before me stood none other than my roommates! 
 
 `` Jesus! When did you get back?'' I shouted at the top of my exhausted lungs. Both of my shoulders and hips were dislocated. 
 
 `` Daddy, you're scaring me!'' said the smaller of my two female roommates. She clutched the leg of the other, who stared angrily and with fiery eyes into my own. I was beckoned to follow. We walked into the kitchen, where the older roommate, Alice, spread her arms out in a grand gesture toward a kitchen counter littered with empty whiskey bottles. 
 
 `` What the fuck, David,'' she screamed. `` What the hell have you done!? The TV is ruined and the bathroom mirror is shattered! Why would n't you let us in?'' 
 
 `` When did you get back from London?'' I stammered, dumbfounded. 
 
 `` London? We went to my mothers for one night and you would n't let us back in! How many time are you going to do this to us? We had to go all the way back to mother's and call a locksmith to let us in! And you know what I figured out? She's right. She's always been right. You're a pathetic shell of a man and I regret the day I recited those vows. You either need to get help for the drinking problem that - guess what - you ca n't even hide anymore, or you need to get out of our life.'' 
 
 The child clung to her mother as if for life and shook with nervousness. At that moment I saw myself in her, and not just in her ears which everybody says look identical to mine, but in her soul. She was spooked. How long have I been spooked, I wondered? How long have I been living in a personal prison of spookiness and easy spookification? I stood up and looked down. 
 
 `` I've pissed myself,'' I slurred drunkenly as I swayed side to side with a breeze that did n't exist. `` I've pissed myself and I need to...'' 
 
 I vomited and passed out. 
 
 When I woke, I was alone. `` Oh my... It was just a dream...'' I whispered to nobody. There was a note next to me, folded gently. 
 
 `` David, 
 We need to talk. Sara is at mother's. We'll be back later. 
 -Alice'' 
 
 I stood and walked into the kitchen. I opened a mostly empty bottle of bourbon and quickly downed what was left of it. `` Just a dram...'' I chuckled. My roommates had just left on vacation, and immediately the house took on a different, darker persona.
