SOMETHING IS WATCHING PART2

 I could feel my heartbeat start to quicken. Hey, Mr. Janitor! I called out, more out of frustration than anything else. This had to be some kind of prank. He was probably watching me from the shadows, trying to freak me out. But there was no answer, just the soft, unsettling shuffle of fabric behind me again. I turned slowly, my flashlight scanning the mannequins, and that's when I saw it. One of them had changed positions again, its head now facing directly toward the exit. My breath hitched in my throat. No one else was here. 

 There was no way this was a trick. I backed out of the store quickly. I didn't want to stay any longer than necessary. As I walked away, I kept glancing over my shoulder. And then I heard it. Footsteps. But not normal footsteps. They were heavy, rough, like wood or plastic scraping against the floor. My heart started pounding in my chest. I turned around and there it was, the same mannequin from the store. It stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at me with its blank, lifeless face. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. 

 I could feel the blood drain from my face as I watched it. Slowly, stiffly, it started to move toward me, its joints creaking and groaning with every step. Its movements were robotic, stiff, like a doll being dragged forward. I did what any sane person would do. I ran. I turned on my heel and bolted down the hallway, my footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness of the mall. I didn't care how ridiculous I looked. I just needed to get away from that thing. I rounded the corner, ducking into the hallway that led toward the restrooms. 

 The footsteps behind me had stopped, but I didn't dare look back. I burst into the restroom, splashing cold water on my face, trying to convince myself that it was all in my head. But as I looked into the mirror, I saw something else. A woman was standing near the stalls, her back to me, dressed in the plain uniform of a cleaning lady. I blinked, and she was gone. My heart skipped a beat. I spun around, but there was no one there. The restroom was empty. I collapsed to my knees, exhausted and terrified. What was happening? I tried to gather my thoughts, to make sense of it all, but nothing was adding up. Then I remembered the list.

I pulled the crumpled paper from my pocket and unfolded it with shaking hands. There, written plainly in black ink, were the next few rules. Rule 3 If a mannequin looks like it's following you, don't look back. Mannequins sometimes follow guards, but if you ignore them, they'll stop. If you look, they'll know you're aware, and they'll get closer. I felt my heart sink. I had looked. Rule 4 Avoid looking into the mirrors of the restroom. Too late for that. My stomach twisted in knots as I realized I had already broken two of the rules. 

 Whatever was happening, I was making it worse. Rule 5 If you hear someone talking inside an abandoned store, do not listen. I swallowed hard. I hadn't heard anyone yet, but just knowing the rule had there made me uneasy. Rule 6 If you hear a child laughing from the play area, leave immediately. Rule 7 If you check the time and it's earlier than the last time you looked, immediately return to the security office. I glanced at my watch, instinctively checking the time. It read 11.30 p.m. My blood ran cold. There was no way it was 11.30. I had started my patrol after midnight, and it had been a while since then. This wasn't possible.

I didn't need to be told twice. I rushed out of the restroom, my heart racing as I made my way back toward the security office. The air around me seemed heavier now, more oppressive, and the lights overhead flickered faintly. The mall, once a place I had thought would be quiet and safe, now felt like a living entity, watching and waiting. I reached the office, slamming the door behind me. My breathing was ragged, my nerves frayed. I checked my watch again. It was almost 1 a.m. That seemed right. But what had happened earlier? Why had the time changed like that? I sat down trying to steady my shaking hands.

I needed to keep my head on straight. I wasn't going to let this place get to me. I pulled out the list again, reading through the remaining rules. Rule 8. Lock the security office door between 4 a.m. and 4.30 a.m. and do not open it for anyone. If they knock, they might not be the person you think they are. Check the cameras to confirm. Rule 9. If you hear someone crying in a dressing room, do not open the door. Rule 10. If you hear an escalator running, do not investigate. Watch the area on the security cameras. Rule 11. 

 Under no circumstances should you leave before your shift ends. If you do, you risk something following you outside the mall. I let out a nervous laugh. What kind of job had I taken? Who had written these rules? I couldn't make sense of any of it. But as I sat there, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on me. The mannequin. The time shifting. The figure in the mirror. This wasn't normal. Whatever was going on. I needed to survive the night. It was past 1 a.m. and I needed to go for another round. 

 As much as I wanted to stay locked in the security office, I knew I had to follow the security protocols also. The cameras showed nothing unusual, so I gathered my courage and stepped back out into the mall. As I walked cautiously through the main hallway, I started hearing something. A faint mumbling coming from an abandoned store. My blood ran cold as I remembered Rule 5. I stopped in my tracks, heart pounding in my chest. The mumbling sound coming from the abandoned store was quiet, barely audible over the faint hum of the mall's air conditioning. But it was unmistakable. There was someone or something talking inside.

I forced myself to move, my legs feeling like lead. Rule 5 echoed in my head. If you hear someone talking inside an abandoned store, do not listen. I tried to block out the sound, telling myself it was just my imagination. But the soft, incomprehensible murmurs persisted, growing louder the closer I got to the store. I glanced at the glass storefront. The windows were covered with paper, blocking any view of the inside. My breath hitched as I quickened my pace, refusing to even glance in its direction. I didn't want to know what was behind those papers, or what was causing that sound. The voice was rising now, clearer but still distorted, like someone talking underwater. I had to get away. I made it past the store, refusing to look back.

The voice began to fade, and I felt the tension in my body ease slightly. But as I turned the corner and entered the next corridor, I heard it again. Footsteps. But not normal footsteps. They were rough, uneven, like the dragging sound of something solid scraping against the floor, almost like wood or plastic. My stomach twisted. I knew what it was before I even turned around. It was the mannequin. My instinct screamed at me not to look back, remembering rule three. If a mannequin looks like it's following you, don't look back. If you ignore them, they'll stop. If you look, they'll know you're aware, and they'll get closer.

I walked faster, keeping my eyes straight ahead, trying to ignore the growing sound of the mannequin's movements behind me. Each step it took seemed heavier, more deliberate. My heart raced as the footsteps grew closer, but I didn't dare turn around. Just keep walking. Just keep walking, I told myself. The sound of the mannequin's movement grew fainter, and eventually I could no longer hear it. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and slowed my pace. My hands were shaking, but at least I had followed the rule. Whatever was following me had stopped for now. Then I heard something else. The distant hum of machinery.

An escalator. Running. I froze, the blood draining from my face. Rule ten. If you hear an escalator running, do not investigate. Watch the area on the security cameras. I turned on my heel and bolted for the security office. I wasn't going to risk breaking another rule, especially after what I had just been through. My mind raced as I rushed back down the hallway, past the now quiet abandoned store, and toward the safety of the security office. I could hear the escalator in the distance. That unmistakable mechanical whirr. But I didn't stop. I burst into the office, slammed the door behind me, and locked it. My breath came in short, ragged gasps. I immediately turned my attention to the security monitors, flipping through the camera feeds. The escalator camera came into view, and there it was. A figure. It wasn't a person, not exactly.

It was something else. The figure was tall, unnaturally tall, its limbs long and spindly, its face obscured by shadows. It was standing on the escalator, its body stiff and jerky, moving in slow, unnatural movements as the steps carried it upward. I stared at the screen, frozen in place. My mind raced, trying to process what I was seeing. The figure's head turned slowly, as if sensing something. And then, impossibly, it looked straight at the camera, straight at me. The monitors started flickering, static filling the screens, a loud buzzing sound filling the room. I snapped my gaze away from the camera, remembering rule one. Don't stare at the footage for too long. The buzzing stopped almost immediately, and when I glanced back at the monitors, the escalator was empty.