Jessica Jones slammed the trunk of her beat-up car shut, wiping her brow as she surveyed her new home. It wasn't anything fancy—a modest two-story house on the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen. The neighborhood was quiet, which suited her just fine. After years of dealing with the chaos of the city, a little peace and quiet sounded like heaven.

"This is it, I guess," she muttered, taking a swig from her flask. "New start, new place. Same damn problems."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Malcolm:"Need help unpacking?"

She sighed and typed back a quick reply:"No. Got it covered."

Jessica wasn't much for unpacking. The boxes could wait. All she wanted was a stiff drink, maybe some takeout, and a chance to collapse onto the couch. She stepped inside, dropping her keys on the kitchen counter and tossing her jacket over the back of a chair. The house creaked with old age, the wooden floors groaning beneath her feet. But there was something… off about the place, something she couldn't put her finger on.

Her senses, always finely tuned to danger after years of dealing with threats far worse than the average criminal, were tingling slightly. Not in an alarming way—just a nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right.

"Great. Another haunted house?" she muttered sarcastically to herself. "Just what I need."

Jessica plopped down on the couch, kicked her boots off, and leaned back. For a few minutes, she let the silence of the house wrap around her, closing her eyes and enjoying the stillness. But then, something made her sit up—a faint scratching sound.

It was subtle at first, almost like a mouse scurrying through the walls. But then it became more distinct, almost like... someone was dragging their fingers along the glass. Jessica's eyes snapped open, her senses sharpening instantly. The sound was coming from the large window in the living room, the one that overlooked the small, unkempt backyard.

She stood, crossing the room with a scowl. "If this is some kid trying to mess with me, I'm going to make sure they regret it."

But when she reached the window, there was no one there. The yard was empty. Jessica stared at the glass, frowning, her reflection staring back at her in the fading light. The sound had stopped, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was there.

Then, before her very eyes, words began to form on the fogged-up glass.Hello.

Jessica blinked, rubbing her eyes as if to make sure she wasn't seeing things. But the word was still there, faint but unmistakable, as if someone had written it from the other side of the glass.

"Okay. Weird," she muttered, instinctively reaching for the whiskey bottle on the coffee table. She took a long swig, then leaned in closer to the window. "Who the hell is writing on my window?"

The glass fogged again, and another message appeared:I've been watching you.

Jessica's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't back away. She was used to being watched—her work as a private investigator meant she always had enemies lurking in the shadows. But this was different. Whoever—or whatever—was writing these messages wasn't in the room with her. The writing was coming frominsidethe glass.

She narrowed her eyes. "If you've been watching me, you know that's a bad idea. So unless you want to get hurt, stop playing games."

There was a pause, and then the next message appeared, forming slowly as if the writer was considering their words:No need for violence. I can't hurt you. Different dimensions, you see. You're fascinating.

Jessica's skin prickled with unease. Different dimensions? She wasn't sure if this was some alien tech gone wrong, a mutant with strange powers, or something else entirely. Either way, it was creepy as hell.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "What do you want?"

The words faded from the glass, replaced by a new message:I am Gorath. My kind calls yours "breathers." Strange creatures, always fussing about oxygen.

"Breathers?" Jessica muttered. "Great. I've got an interdimensional peeping Tom."

She crossed her arms, glaring at the window. "Look, Gorath, or whatever you are—stop watching me. I didn't sign up for some cosmic freak show."

The fog thickened again as the response appeared:Why so hostile? I don't understand. Your kind is so... fragile, but fascinating. I've never seen a breather respond to me before. You're... different.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

But her mind was racing. This wasn't like anything she'd dealt with before. Whoever—or whatever—Gorath was, he was communicating with her through the window, somehow existing in a parallel reality where he could observe but not interact directly. The idea of some alien creature watching her every move, trapped in a dimension she couldn't see, made her skin crawl.

"What do you want?" she asked again, more forcefully this time.

The next message came quickly, as though Gorath had been waiting for the question:I want to understand. I've been watching breathers for a long time, but none of them ever see me. None respond. Why are you different?

Jessica sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Because I've got the worst luck in the universe, apparently."

Another message appeared, more insistent this time:I could learn from you. You're not like the others in this house. I've watched them too. They never noticed me.

Jessica's jaw tightened. "Others? You mean the people who lived here before?"

Yes, the words replied.They were boring. Never noticed anything. But you... you see me. You hear me.

Jessica stared at the window, her mind racing. If this thing had been watching the previous tenants, it could have information on them—or worse, it could be responsible for driving them out. She needed to figure out what she was dealing with.

"And what happens when I stop talking to you?" she asked, her tone icy. "You go back to watching? Spying on me?"

The response was slow, almost hesitant:I'll keep watching. It's all I can do. But I mean no harm.

Jessica shook her head, stepping back from the window. "I don't care if you mean harm or not. I'm not your entertainment."

Without warning, she grabbed a blanket from the couch and tossed it over the window, blocking out the strange writing and the unnerving presence on the other side. The room fell silent, save for her own breathing.

For a long moment, she stood there, waiting to see if Gorath would try to communicate again. But there was only silence.

Jessica took a deep breath and sat down on the couch, trying to steady her nerves. She'd dealt with monsters, mutants, and super-powered psychos, but this? This was something else. The thought of an interdimensional being observing her every move from the other side of the glass made her skin crawl.

"I don't care what dimension you're from," she muttered, taking another swig from her bottle. "You're not welcome here."

As the night wore on, the house remained quiet, the strange entity apparently deciding to leave her alone—for now. But Jessica knew it wasn't over. Whatever Gorath was, he was still there, watching from beyond the veil of reality. And she had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time she'd have to deal with him.

But for now, she'd earned a break.