César, the quiet concierge of an upscale apartment building in Barcelona, moved like a shadow through the halls—always polite, always invisible. By day, he smiled at the residents, handled their complaints, and tended to their comforts. But at night, when the doors locked and the city slept, César revealed his true self: a man incapable of happiness, obsessed with extinguishing the light in others. His chosen target was Clara, the ever-cheerful woman in 5B. Her laughter echoed through the building like a song he couldn’t silence. It wasn’t love he felt—it was hatred disguised as intimacy. And so, under cover of night, he let himself into her apartment, hiding beneath her bed, breathing in the stillness, plotting ways to unravel her joy.
The game became ritual. He tampered with her skincare products, sent anonymous texts to rattle her nerves, and even drugged her so he could whisper hate-filled thoughts while she slept, knowing she would never hear them. Every smile she offered the world made him seethe. But Clara, unknowingly resilient, pushed forward, her spirit unbroken. César’s tactics grew bolder, more unhinged. He sabotaged her relationships, destroyed her belongings, yet her optimism persisted like a flame he could not douse. The walls of the building, once allies in his silent war, began to feel like a prison as his obsession consumed him.
When Clara’s boyfriend Marcos began staying over, César’s world cracked. No longer alone in the apartment at night, he was forced to adapt—hiding deeper, taking greater risks. He watched, waited, and grew jealous of the affection Marcos received. Driven by spite and a twisted sense of purpose, César escalated his torment. One night, while Marcos slept beside Clara, César crept from his hiding place and ensured his presence would never be forgotten. It wasn’t violence that left a scar—it was something worse. Something Clara wouldn’t discover until months later, something that would alter her life forever. And by then, César would be long gone, another face in a new building, waiting to feed on someone else's joy.
In the end, César got what he wanted. Clara’s light dimmed—not from fear, but from confusion, betrayal, and the invisible invasion of her life. In a letter he never sent, César wrote: “Happiness is a lie. And I am its cure.” Sleep Tight doesn't scream—it whispers. It reminds us that the most terrifying monsters wear uniforms, carry keys, and smile as they pass us in the hallway. Clara survived, but not unscathed. She would learn to lock her windows, check under her bed, and question every stranger’s kindness. And César? He would find another building, another Clara. Because for some, peace is impossible until all the world is as miserable as they are.
