The last thing I saw before the silence broke
Was her shadow bending over my breath.
Long fingers digging through my ribs like hooks,
One hand sealing my mouth, stealing what’s left.
The room collapsed into a ticking scream,
Red numbers burning holes in my sight.
A clock on the wall blinked 0:07,
And the dark learned my name that night.
No air to pray, no voice to beg,
Her grip was colder than the floor.
Time stood still, then laughed at me,
As it crawled across the door.
Zero seven — heartbeat frozen,
Steel in her touch, ice in her eyes.
I woke up gasping, soaked in relief,
Swore to God it was all a lie.
Zero six — the lie kept breathing,
The nightmare learned how to stay.
When the clock went back one second,
Something else came out to play.
Sheets were twisted like crime scene tape,
My pulse still drumming in my ears.
I laughed at myself — “just a dream,”
Wiped the sweat, swallowed fear.
Then the clock glitched, stuttered, bled,
Its numbers crawling backward in time.
0:06 was burning red,
And the silence crossed the line.
Wood began to sing in pain,
A hinge confessed with a cry.
The closet breathed like a living thing,
And I knew what was inside.
Zero seven — she had my chest,
Her fingers searching for the core.
Zero six — I’m wide awake,
And I hear that fucking door.
I escaped the dream, not the curse,
Not the hands, not the face.
Time reversed one second back,
Just to seal my fate.
Tick.
Don’t.
Move.
Hide.
She’s between the seconds,
She lives where seconds die.
Clock goes back —
Reality cracks —
Dreams don’t end,
They change their mask!
The closet opened just enough
For darkness to leak its grin.
I saw her fingers first, too long,
Still wet with where they’d been.
Her voice was silence, pure and slow,
A promise pressed against my skull.
“You never woke up,” the ticking said,
“You just fell deeper into null.”
Zero seven — that’s where I died,
Zero six — where death stood up.
No alarm, no morning light,
Just time with a sharpened tongue.
If you trust the clock beside your bed,
If you think you’re safe at dawn,
Remember: dreams can count backwards…
And closets don’t creak for nothing.
The clock is blinking.
I’m not asleep.
It’s still counting down.
