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The Apartment #183


Slowly, cautiously silent, Tracey moved. Her muscles, too long in one position, burned with pain as she forced them into life again. She lifted herself on her arm so she could turn her head - grimacing as she fought the pain that spasmed in her neck muscles - to see the source of her fear.
From her prone position she couldn't make out the shape she saw. It jerked, dark and formless, with guttural, wet snarls, but try as she might she couldn't quite work out what it was.
Its shape shuddered in the flickering from the light of the silent television.

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