DO NOT LET HIM IN TWICE

The first time he came to my apartment, he said he was my brother’s friend. That was a lie. I didn’t have a brother. I told him that. He just nodded like I said something unimportant and said, “That’s fine. I still need to come in for a minute.” I should’ve closed the door. I didn’t. He walked inside like he already knew the layout. Didn’t look around. Didn’t hesitate. Just went straight to my kitchen, opened my fridge, and said, “You’re not eating enough.” I asked him to leave. He ignored me. Instead, he grabbed a sticky note from his pocket and placed it on my counter. It had my name on it. And under it:

“DO NOT LET HIM IN TWICE.”

I laughed because I thought it was some weird prank. Then I asked, “Who are you?” He finally looked at me. And said, “Someone who already did this wrong once.” That should’ve been the moment I called the police. But I didn’t. Because he wasn’t acting dangerous. He was acting… familiar. Like someone trying to fix something they broke a long time ago. He stayed for 17 minutes. I know because I checked the clock after he left.

In that time:

• He fixed my leaking sink without asking

• He threw away expired food I didn’t know I had

• He replaced my smoke alarm battery

• And he wrote three more notes and left them on my table

Then he said, “Don’t go outside tonight. Just don’t.” And left. The second time he came back was two days later. I didn’t open the door. I just stood there. He knocked once. Then said, through the door: “You already let me in once. That’s the problem.” I asked him what he meant. He said, “It gets worse every time you remember me.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t remember letting him in before. At least I didn’t think I did. Then he slid something under the door. A photo. It was me. Standing in my kitchen. With him behind me. Smiling. Like this wasn’t the first visit. Like we’d done this before. I didn’t sleep that night. Every noise in my apartment sounded like footsteps that knew where they were going.

At 3:12 AM, my smoke alarm beeped once.

New battery installed.

I never replaced it.

The third time he came, I opened the door. Not because I wanted to. Because I was tired. And because part of me needed to know what was happening more than I needed it to stop. He looked relieved when I opened it. Like he had been waiting a long time for me to choose wrong “Good,” he said. “This is the one where you start remembering.” I told him to stop talking in riddles. He walked past me again like he still lived there. Sat on my couch. And said, “You always say that right before it gets bad.”

I asked him what “it” was. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled out a second sticky note. Handed it to me.

This one had a list.

1. Don’t let him in twice.
2. Don’t trust what he fixes.
3. Don’t ask about the first time.

I stared at it. Then said, “What first time? He closed his eyes like I disappointed him.

Then said: “This is why it keeps resetting.”

My phone rang. Unknown number. I answered without thinking. A voice on the other end said:

“Don’t listen to him this time.” Then hung up.

I looked at him. He didn’t react. Just said, “That wasn’t supposed to happen yet.” I asked him to leave. This time he did. But at the door, he paused. And said something different. No riddles. No calm tone. Just one sentence:

“If you let me in twice again, you won’t be the one answering the door next time.”

After he left, I checked my apartment camera.

I don’t have a camera. But there was footage anyway. Me opening the door. Me letting him in.

Me smiling when he walked inside. Except I don’t remember smiling. I don’t remember any of it.

And now I have a note on my counter again. New handwriting. Same message:

DO NOT LET HIM IN TWICE

Except this time… it’s already crossed out once.

*IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ MORE PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT OR UPVOTE TO LET ME KNOW*