Why are you here?

 I had a period in my life when things weren't going well and nothing was going well. I had a fight with my parents, and after another fight, I decided to move out. I just met some old friends, we talked, and I casually asked if anyone was renting an apartment, to which one friend said that her grandfather had recently died and the apartment was empty. We agreed that she would call me after she talked to her parents. Later, she got in touch, and eventually I moved into the apartment and started living. There was a lot of work, so I usually only came home for the night.

But somehow I still had a day off. I spent the whole day cleaning and doing other household chores. I went to bed around ten o'clock in the evening. I was lying watching cartoons on the channel "2x2" and heard the door to the apartment slam and the lock clicked. But I locked the door, and I checked it several times! Then there were men's footsteps, heavy like that, and a rustling sound, as if someone was carrying a package in their hand. The footsteps headed towards my room. I was lying on the couch with my head facing the door and couldn't see who was there—my whole body suddenly went numb. The "guest" stopped at the entrance to the room and said in a raspy voice, "What are you doing here?" and immediately, without waiting for an answer, went towards the kitchen. It wasn't until about five minutes later that I plucked up the courage and decided to see what it was, but the apartment was empty.

In the morning, I called the hostess and told her everything. She said that her late grandfather had visited his apartment several times after his death, but they had consecrated the apartment and thought it would not happen again. Naturally, I moved out quickly, and then I found out from a friend that not only did this grandfather die on the couch I was sleeping on, but his wife also died on the same couch a year before his death...