The first time James saw the man, he thought nothing of it.

It was a late Thursday night, the kind where the air smelled like damp pavement and tired city lights. James slumped into his usual seat on the downtown train, the only other passengers scattered in weary silence. He barely noticed the tall figure seated across from him - a man dressed in an old, gray coat, his face obscured by the angle of his hood.

The train jolted forward, lights flickering briefly as it sped into the tunnel. James sighed and pulled out his phone, mindlessly scrolling until the next stop.

When he glanced up, the man was still there, unmoving.

The doors opened, a few passengers got off, and a few more got on. James barely paid attention - until two stops later, he switched trains to head toward his apartment.

And the man was there again.

Same gray coat. The same hood shadowing his face. Sitting across from him, perfectly still.

A shiver crawled up James's spine. Had the guy followed him? No, impossible. He'd switched platforms, and taken a different train altogether. There was no way the man could have beaten him here.

The train lurched forward again. James kept his head down, trying to ignore the unease gnawing at his gut.

But at every stop, every train he transferred to, the man was always there.

Never moving. Never speaking.

Just watching.

________________________________________

By the time James reached his stop, his nerves were raw. The train doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, but for a moment, he hesitated. His legs felt stiff, his body reluctant to move, as if some unseen force was urging him to stay.

No.

He had to get off.

Shaking off the eerie feeling, he stepped onto the platform, the air outside heavy with the scent of rain and metal. He pushed through the turnstile, hisfingers gripping the cold metal bar a little too tightly. His pulse hadn't slowed, and the feeling of being watched refused to leave him.

Something made him glance over his shoulder.

The man in the brown coat hadn't moved. He was still there, still seated near the door. But now, with the train preparing to leave, he had turned his head.

And he was staring directly at James.

Through the smeared, streaked glass, the man's gaze was unnerving - not curious, not annoyed, not even remotely human. It was like looking into something that wasn't supposed to be there, something that had only just remembered how to mimic human expression.

The doors slammed shut between them, breaking the moment.

The train groaned forward, its wheels screeching against the tracks as it pulled out of the station. But the man -

He didn't look away.

James stood frozen as the train passed, the windows flashing by in a blur of dim fluorescent light and empty seats. But in each flickering frame, through every shifting pane of glass, the man's face remained visible, locked onto James.

Watching.

Waiting.

And then the train was gone.

The tunnel swallowed it whole, leaving behind only silence.

James exhaled sharply, his breath unsteady. His whole body felt wired, like he had just escaped something he wasn't supposed to escape.

He shook his head.

Just some guy. Coincidence. Nothing more.

But his legs moved faster than usual as he walked home that night, his keys already in his hand before he even reached the front door.

He locked it behind him.

And then, just to be sure -

He locked it again.

James saw him again.

He almost didn't board the train.

He shouldn't have boarded the train.

But he stood there, frozen on the platform, unable to move as his eyes locked onto the familiar gray coat, the hunched shoulders, the hood pulled too far forward.

The sameman.

Same seat. Same stillness. Same unnatural presence.

James' stomach twisted. His hands clenched into fists, his breath sharp and uneven. It's just a guy, he told himself. It has to be just a guy.

But deep down, he knew it wasn't.

The train doors hissed open, spilling out stale air from its fluorescent-lit interior.

Something inside James screamed at him to walk away.

Turn around. Go home. Don't get on that train.

But his body moved anyway.

Like he had no choice.

Like something unseen was pulling him forward.

He stepped inside, the doors sealed shut behind him with a finality that made his chest tighten. The other passengers sat in dull silence, absorbed in their books, their phones, and their small worlds. No one seemed to see him.

No one saw it.

James forced himself to walk down the aisle. His hands trembled as he lowered himself onto the seat.

Right across from the man.

The train lurched forward, pulling into the tunnel, the windows quickly swallowed by darkness.

James swallowed hard, forcing himself to look up.

And this time -

The man lifted his head.

James' breath caught in his throat.

The face beneath the hood was not quite right.

The skin was too pale, almost colorless, like something preserved for too long in a place without light. The features were too smooth as if they had been painted onto wax and not quite dried.

And the eyes -

Deep-set. Colorless. Hollow.

They fixed onto James with unnerving intent, not blinking, not shifting.

James felt his pulse pounding in his skull, a drumbeat of fear so loud he swore the stranger could hear it.

The train rattled through the dark tunnel, and James gripped the edge of his seat, nails digging into the worn fabric. He turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

The seconds dragged. The air felt thick, suffocating.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Heglanced back.

And the man was still staring.

Still smiling.

A slow, thin stretch of lips, too wide, too forced - like someone mimicking an expression they didn't quite understand.

The overhead lights flickered.

The train slowed.

A station.

James didn't hesitate.

The moment the doors hissed open, he bolted.

He shoved past startled passengers, his feet hitting the platform hard, his breath ragged as he sprinted into the station. The world outside felt too big, too real compared to the suffocating, narrow space of that train car.

But he didn't stop running.

Not until he was home, the door locked behind him, his back pressed against the wood, chest rising and falling in sharp, panicked breaths.

His mind reeled. His skin was slick with sweat.

What the hell had he just seen?

His phone buzzed in his pocket. His shaking hands fumbled as he pulled it out.

A text.

From an unknown number.

James stared at the screen, dread pooling in his stomach as he read the message.

"You shouldn't have left."

Nowhere is Safe

James didn't take the subway for a week.

He avoided the station entirely, crossing the street when he got too close, forcing himself to take the long way home. The extra time spent walking didn't bother him. What bothered him was the fear curling inside his chest like a sickness.

He told himself it was irrational.

Just a weird guy. Just a commuter with a strange face.

But every time he thought about those colorless eyes, that stretched unnatural smile, his stomach twisted.

It wasn't just a guy.

Something about that thing on the train felt wrong.

Even in the safety of his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling. His routine changed - he checked the locks twice before and drew the curtains even when there was nothing but the dull glow of the city outside. Every night, he dreamed of the train.

Dreaming of empty passengers with blank faces.

Dreamed of thatman sitting near the door, smiling.

But at least in his waking hours, he could avoid it.

Or so he thought.

Because one night, on his way home, he saw him.

Not in the subway.

Not on the train.

But outside his apartment building.

James stopped dead in his tracks.

His breath hitched, his stomach dropping like lead.

The man stood beneath the streetlight, hands tucked into his pockets, his head tilted slightly as if waiting.

The light above him flickered, casting shadows over his face.

James didn't move.

He couldn't.

His pulse roared in his ears, his body screaming at him to run - but his feet refused to listen.

Then the man shifted.

Not a normal movement, not a step forward - it was too smooth, too unnatural like the space between one second and the next had folded in on itself.

One moment he was standing beneath the streetlight.

The next, he was closer.

James sprinted.

His body broke free of the paralysis, adrenaline kicking in hard. He turned, his sneakers slamming against the pavement, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

He didn't look back.

Couldn't.

He could feel it. The presence. The watching.

The city blurred around him, streetlights flashing past in a feverish haze, but his focus was singular:

Get inside. Lock the door. Get away.

His apartment building loomed ahead.

Almost there.

Almost -

James fumbled for his keys, heart pounding as he reached his door. His hands trembled as he jammed the key into the lock, twisting hard, pushing inside -

SLAM.

The door shut behind him.

James collapsed against it, chest heaving, every muscle in his body taut with terror. He listened - straining - for any sound outside.

Silence.

Then -

A whisper.

Right at the door.

"You can't keep running, James."

His entire body seized.

His lungs locked.

That voice.

It hadn't come from outside.

It had come from inside the apartment.

The next morning, exhaustion dragged at his bones. He barely slept and barely ate. He knewhe couldn't avoid the subway forever.

So he did something reckless.

He rode the train, waiting for the man to appear.

Stop after stop, he scanned the faces of strangers, heart hammering. For the first time in days, the man was nowhere to be seen.

James almost laughed in relief. He had worked himself up over nothing. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing.

Then the train lights flickered.

The car went dark for half a second.

And when the lights came back on - the man was sitting across from him.

Closer than before.

Smiling.

James's stomach dropped. The train kept moving, the world outside nothing but a blur of tunnels and steel. His mouth was dry. His hands trembled.

"What do you want?" he whispered.

The man's smile widened. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a hollow, distant thing, like the echo of something long buried.

"I never left."

James's blood turned to ice.

The train sped forward. The tunnels stretched longer, darker, the stops blurring past without slowing.

James stood, gripping the pole. "Let me out."

The man's head tilted. "There is no out."

The windows were no longer windows. Just empty black voids.

The train wasn't stopping.

James turned, heart racing, searching for someone - anyone - who could see what was happening. But the passengers were still. Unmoving. Their faces were blank, empty.

They weren't real.

None of them were real.

The train plunged deeper into the dark.

And the forgotten passenger just smiled.

James stumbled backward, gripping the nearest pole for support. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as his gaze darted between the motionless passengers and the man in the brown coat.

They're not real.

The realization settled like a stone in his gut. The people around him - faces he had barely glanced at before - were nothing more than husks. Their eyes were open, their expressions neutral, but there was no breath, no movement, no flickerof awareness.

They were props.

This train, this ride - none of it was right.

James forced himself to look away from them, from their frozen forms, and back toward the man sitting near the door.

The forgotten passenger.

He was still smiling.

James' throat went dry. The train rumbled forward, the outside world a blur of darkness through the windows, stretching endlessly in both directions. There were no stops. No signs.

He needed to get off this train.

He staggered toward the door, hands fumbling for the emergency stop button. His fingers hovered over it -

"That won't work."

The voice was low, almost amused.

James stiffened, his skin crawling. Slowly, unwillingly, he turned his head.

The man in the brown coat was standing now, just a few feet away.

The space between them felt wrong. Too vast, too empty, like the train had stretched without him noticing.

James swallowed. "Who are you?"

The man's smile didn't waver.

"I'm the only one who ever stays."

James' stomach twisted. The train gave a violent jolt, and suddenly, the lights flickered out.

Total darkness.

James' breath hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for something - anything. His pulse roared in his ears.

Then, the lights flickered back on.

And the train was full again.

People shifted in their seats. Murmurs of conversation drifted through the air. A businessman checked his watch. A woman scrolled on her phone.

James whipped around, heart hammering.

Everything was normal.

The frozen passengers were gone.

The empty, endless dark outside the train had been replaced by city lights, flashing past the windows in quick, familiar bursts.

Had he imagined it?

A nightmare? A hallucination?

James' breath slowed. He exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his face.

The train's automated voice chimed overhead:

"Next stop, Eastvale Station."

His stop.

Relief flooded him. He was fine. Everything was fine.

James turned toward the seat near the door, toward the place where the forgotten passenger had been sitting.

It was empty.

No manin a brown coat. No black cap.

Just an unoccupied seat, as if he had never been there at all.

The train slowed, pulling into the station. James forced himself to take a deep breath. He needed sleep. He was just exhausted. That was all.

The doors slid open.

James didn't hesitate. He stepped onto the platform, heart still unsteady in his chest. The cool night air hit him, grounding him.

He turned to watch the train as it prepared to leave, half expecting to see that man staring at him from the window.

But there was nothing.

Just ordinary passengers.

The doors closed. The train pulled away.

James let out a long breath and turned toward the exit. He needed a drink. Or a week of sleep.

He took one step forward -

And someone grabbed his wrist.

Cold. Too cold.

His stomach lurched. He turned.

The forgotten passenger stood beside him on the platform.

Grinning.

"Told you, James."

"I'm the only one who ever stays."

James yanked his wrist away, stumbling back so hard he nearly fell onto the platform. His breath hitched in his throat, his pulse hammering against his ribs.

The man in the brown coat shouldn't be here.

The train was gone. The passengers were gone. The night air swirled around them, thick and heavy with an eerie silence.

James' voice came out hoarse. "How - how did you - "

The forgotten passenger tilted his head, watching James like he was something amusing, something fragile.

"You got off," he said as if that explained everything.

James took another step back, scanning the empty station for someone else - anyone. But the platform was deserted.

No station workers. No late-night stragglers.

Not even the flickering, half-broken vending machines were humming.

Nothing.

Just him.

And the man who never left.

James clenched his fists. "Stay away from me."

The man chuckled, a low, hollow sound that curled around James like smoke.

"Why?" He took a step forward,closing the space between them effortlessly. "You've been seeing me for weeks now. You knew this was coming."

James shook his head. No. No, this wasn't real. It couldn't be.

His body screamed at him to run, but his feet were frozen in place.

The forgotten passenger leaned in just enough for James to catch the scent of something old, something stale, like dust in an abandoned room.

"Tell me, James," he murmured. "Where do you think people go when they leave the train?"

James' breath hitched. He hadn't thought about it.

The passengers - had he ever really seen them leave? They sat, they stared, and then -

The train doors would close.

And the next time he looked, they were gone.

His stomach turned. "What? what are you?"

The man's grin stretched wider.

"A forgotten passenger. Just like you."

James' blood ran cold.

"I - I'm not - "

"Not yet."

The lights above flickered violently, sending the platform into sharp, stuttering darkness. James' breath came in ragged gasps as he felt the space around him shift, the world bending, stretching -

When the lights stabilized, he was no longer standing on the platform.

The train was back.

The motionless passengers were back.

And James was sitting in a seat near the door.

His limbs locked in place, unable to move. His lips slightly parted, but no sound escaped.

He wasn't breathing.

Not really.

Because he wasn't real anymore.

He was just part of the train.

Just like the others.

Just like the forgotten passenger.

And outside, through the streaked train window, a new passenger stepped onto the platform.

A man. Confused. Tired.

He looked toward the train, toward James. His gaze flickered with uncertainty.

James wanted to scream, to warn him, to tell him to run.

But all he could do was sit there.

Still. Silent.

And wait.

The train rumbled forward, the outside world stretching into a blur of lights and darkness. James could see it all -the city he had once walked through, the streets he had once known - but it felt distant like a memory slipping through his fingers.

He tried to move, to breathe, to do anything other than sit there like a mannequin dressed in his okin.

But he couldn't.

His body wasn't his anymore.

The other passengers sat frozen around him, their blank faces locked in place, eyes unseeing.

And then, like clockwork, the train doors opened.

A new passenger stepped on - a young woman in a business suit, earbuds tucked into her ears, barely sparing a glance at the world around her. She sat three rows ahead of James, staring at her phone screen, oblivious.

James felt something in his chest, something tight and wrong.

Because he knew what would happen next.

He knew how this worked now.

The woman wouldn't leave. Not really.

Soon, she'd become just like the rest of them.

Just like him.

The doors slid shut, and the train groaned as it lurched forward again.

James wanted to scream, to tell the woman to run, to get off the train before it was too late.

But he couldn't.

Instead, he just sat there, watching.

Waiting.

And near the door, where he had once sat, the forgotten passenger - his replacement now - smiled.

The cycle had started over.

The train was always moving.

And it never ran empty.

The train moved through the night like a beast that never stopped breathing, its wheels screeching against the tracks, the outside world nothing more than a smear of darkness and flickering lights.

James sat, frozen. His body was his, but it wasn't. His breath didn't come naturally anymore; it came because it was supposed to, like an automatic function, something mechanical rather than real.

The woman in the business suit was still staring at her phone, scrolling absently, unaware of the fate tightening around her like an unseen noose.

James wanted towarn her.

But his lips didn't move.

None of them did.

The passengers around him sat perfectly still, their expressions blank, their bodies locked in eerie, unnatural poses. Not a single shift of weight, not a single blink.

They weren't people.

They were remnants.

Passengers who had taken one too many rides.

Passengers who never got off.

James wanted to fight it, to wake up, to break free -

Then the lights flickered.

For a single, horrifying second, the world split apart.

The train wasn't a train anymore.

It was a corridor, long and endless, stretching into impossible directions, walls lined with shadowed figures that hung like forgotten coats. Their mouths were open, but no sound came out. Their hands twitched, reaching, waiting.

The train blinked back into existence, and James gasped - his first real breath since he had become part of this nightmare.

The woman in the business suit froze.

She felt it.

She looked up from her phone, her brows furrowing, sensing something wrong in the air.

James wanted to scream at her to run.

But before he could -

A whisper slithered through the train.

"Do you see it?"

The woman stiffened.

Her fingers trembled as she tucked her phone into her bag, her breath coming in shallow gulps.

She saw it now.

The wrongness.

The thing lurking just out of sight.

She turned her head slowly, her wide eyes scanning the passengers around her.

The motionless passengers.

The empty stares.

The silence.

James could see it breaking inside her, the growing realization.

She reached for the call button.

Her hand stopped midair.

The train doors slid open.

And they stepped in.

Not people.

Not even reflections of people.

They looked like shadows stuffed into human skin, like something wearing the shape of a person without understanding what it was supposed to be.

Their faces were smoothed over, featureless except for deep, sunken sockets where eyes should have been. Their bodies didn't move so much as they adjusted, snapping into different positionslike broken marionettes.

The woman let out a shaky breath.

One of the things turned its head toward her.

It wasn't supposed to be able to see.

But it did.

And then -

It grinned.

A mouth formed where there had been none, stretching too wide, too deep, and filled with too many teeth.

The woman shot out of her seat, slamming her hand against the emergency stop button.

Nothing happened.

James tried to move, but his body was still part of the train, still tethered to its cycle.

The lights flickered again, and in that single instant of darkness, they closed the distance.

The shadows lunged.

The woman screamed.

James saw her reflection in the window -

Her mouth was open too wide.

Her arms bent the wrong way.

And then -

The lights came back on.

She was gone.

Her seat was empty.

And the passengers never moved.

James' breath came in shuddering gasps. His fingers twitched - the first movement he had been able to make.

Something was changing.

He looked toward the seat near the door.

The forgotten passenger was gone.

James' blood ran cold.

Because he knew.

Knew what had just happened.

Knew what it meant.

He turned his head slowly, unwillingly, like something pulling him toward the truth.

His reflection stared back at him from the window.

But it wasn't him.

It was smiling.

And then -

It winked.

The train rumbled forward.

And James knew.

He was the forgotten passenger now.