Building 12 “Looking in the Windows”

“I have been seeing figures outside my window late at night. They look up at me from the street, their faces dark even when they are under the streetlamps. I have tried to tell my neighbors about them, but they claim they don't see anything. People are beginning to talk, and now I cannot go to the supermarket without people staring at me like I am some madman. I have stopped talking about it to the people I know, and that seems to help. But I don't think I can stay silent about it anymore. I have begun to dread the thought of looking out my window late at night. But I feel like I have to. Because every night they are there, looking at me, and every night they get closer.

The first time I saw them, I simply assumed they were just loitering. I don't care about stuff like that. People can spend their time however they feel like. But when they returned the second night, I realized that they were looking at me. It was then I decided to call the police. Waiting for them to arrive was hard, but I was relieved when the people scattered upon the approach of the police lights. I ran to the door and watched as the woman came to my door. Before she could even knock I opened it, my excitement for aid overcoming me.

She introduced herself, mentioning that I called about a disturbance. I told her what I saw, and I asked what I they could do about it. They didn't assault me or anything, but surely behavior like that is strange and warranted investigat-ing. But...she didn't seem to agree. She said that if I had any more disturbances to let them know. She even took down a description. But the look on her face. That tired, exasperated look. She didn't believe me. How couldn't she believe me?

The officer told me that they would look into it, but warned me about making unfounded calls to the police. I resisted the urge to respond, but I couldn't understand. How could she have not seen them when she drove up?

The next night they came back. Only this time there were more. They just stood there, motionless for hours. Looking up at my window. I tried going to other rooms, only to find them staring right at me, tracking my movements...

I called in sick to work the next day and left the house. I went to a local hotel, hoping that they wouldn't find me there. The night wore on, and eventually I became hungry and ordered some food. About forty-five minutes later I heard a knock at the door. I opened it and screamed.

The delivery boy was there with my food, but around him was nearly fifteen people. One of them had a video camera. Their faces were dark, even in the light of the hallway. The boy looked at me with confusion, and I fumbled with my money as I paid him and slammed the door shut. I didn't eat my food that night, nor did I open the door until I was sure that morning had come. I looked through the peephole for a full five minutes, and it was only after I was convinced that no one was there that I got up and left.

I returned home, and haven't left except to go to work. This has been going on for weeks now, and every night they are closer. I don't want to go to a doctor, but I don't think I have a choice. I have to be going crazy because no one sees what I see. I am beginning to dread the night, and have asked to shift over my hours so I work at night instead of in the morning. I don't know what is going on, but I hope it will help. I keep the blinds drawn, dreading the thought of looking out my window. Because I am scared, and I fear that when I do, they will be there, looking at me.”

The above was sent to me through a letter. I went ahead and visited the return address to talk to the person. Only when I arrived, there was police tape on the door. According to neighbors, they had called emergency services when they noticed the man hadn't left his house in a couple of days...

They found him dead, upstairs in his room. There was intensive bruising all over his body, but not in any of the places that would suggest a killing blow. He was posed in a position reminiscent of someone shinning their shoes. The rag and the can of shoe polish were nailed to his hands postmortem. There was a video camera set up, and seemed to have been placed there after he was already dead. Nothing was found on the tape save for his hunched over form, which was kept that way through the use of a complex steel structure. Scrawled on the wall in permanent marker were the words “We are watching.”

Due to its similarities, the case into the deaths of the unknown persons in Building 3 has been officially reopened. I do not know anymore how to react to all of this. Not anymore...I have seen far too many things here to now simply dismiss this man's story as being mere paranoia, a tragic coincidence that coincided with his death. I know now what he saw had to be real. But what does it really matter? No one believed him, and in the beginning of all this I wouldn't have either.

Which brings up the truly upsetting question. Who is going to believe me?