Horror Story

It's been three months since I moved into this old apartment. Every night at precisely 11:53 PM, a faint, muffled crying sound comes from the closet. When I open it, there's nothing inside but a damp, musty smell. I close the door, and the crying starts again. The landlord said the previous tenant heard it too, but he claimed it wasn't crying. "Then what was it?" I asked. The landlord was silent for a long time. "He said... it was someone in the closet imitating his crying." I learned to do the same. If I cried along, louder than it did, it would stop. The more I sounded like myself, the quieter it became. A few times, I deliberately didn't cry, and it would cry until dawn, until fluid seeped from my ears. So, I had to keep crying. Eventually, I couldn't tell if the sound was coming from the closet or my own throat. Last night, the crying stopped. Instead, there were three knocks from inside the closet. The door creaked open a sliver from the inside, revealing only pitch blackness. A voice emerged from that darkness, my voice, but with a hint of laughter: "You cry so well. Now it's my turn."