This note was discovered in an undisclosed location by the police after a neighbour heard gunshots:
"If you are reading this, I am assuming you are the person who has found me. Whatever you do, if you find this note in my bed, leave. Don't think, just take this and leave immediately. Trust me, stop reading now and get out of the house, and as far away from here as you can.
Now, if you are reading this far, I assume that you have done what I have asked. Before I explain, I have to tell you about why you are reading this, and what has happened. I think I will start from the beginning, if I have the time, because I have not been gifted with much of it, unfortunately.
I think it all started about six months ago. I recently moved out of my parents' house and finally into my own apartment, and it was a steal. There were apparently some rumours about this place, but for the price tag on it, I didn't care, I just wanted to have my own place, my own independence.
It was just a five minute walk from the nearest bar, and only a short bus journey from the mall, so I was glad to have it. I decided that I would buy all my furniture as soon as possible, I didn't like the prospect of sleeping on a mattress, but my parents said that I could take my old bed as they were planning on getting a new one for a guest room anyway.
I was rather offended that they were managing to just 'clean up my mess', so to speak, after I had just moved out, but then it did save me on a bed, so I didn't complain. It was good to be alone in my own apartment, as strange as that may seem, but I was easily content just sitting on my computer, only moving for food and the toilet. I was lucky to have a job tutoring people through the internet, means I didn't have to leave to work. Yes, I really thought I had a great life, while I wasn't rich, I was happy.
After about a month of moving in though, things started to change. At night I would often hear whistles and humming, but I just dismissed it to be the wind. I was rather high up in my building, so I expected it. However, after seven nights of whistling, I heard the strangest thing. A voice.
Not loud, no, it was no more than a whisper, lasting a second, but it still chilled me to the bone. "Hello," the whisper said. I lay there with my eyes open facing the wall. I listened closely and never heard any other noises, so I thought that I must be imagining it, and went back to sleep.
However, it happened again, for the next two months, at around 2AM every night, I heard the word, "Hello," spoken in a low whisper, and then nothing. I started to get worried. Was I hearing things? Or was I just mistaking something else for speech? I didn't know what to think, but every night, as usual, I tried not to think about it, and just sleep instead.
2AM the next night, nothing. I was surprised at this, but at the same time glad, because it seemed like finally I did not need to worry. However, about half an hour later, a small hiss came echoed through the apartment. I abruptly opened my eyes, but did not move.
Then, I heard the words, "Sorry to wake you," again at no more than a whisper. But it sounded so close, as if it was coming from directly beneath me. Like something was under my bed, waiting for me.
Over the last couple of months it has gotten worse, the voice has been talking to me, and it can read my thoughts, it knows what I want to say before I even get to. Ha, listen to me, talking to the invisible man, or creature. I don't know what it is, it hasn't shown itself to me, but then we get to tonight, and I have tried telling people, referred to psychiatrists, nothing can get rid of the voices. Nothing. It's under my bed, under my FUCKING BED.
I don't know what to do, it's got me trapped, I can't leave my bed, but I can't sleep, but I can't stay awake either. There's nothing I can do, so that is the reason I am leaving this note, because tonight, I'm going to get up. I'm going to get up, and look under my bed. And the thing knows this. There's...nothing. There's nothing. The whispers are gone...maybe I'll get out of this after a..."
The writer of the note was found dead in his home, with a bullet hole straight through his temple. There were no signs of a struggle, or a gun, only a trail of dust, leading to the bed.