(First part: https://redd.it/1736lm8 Next: https://redd.it/175q7mi )
I haven’t made any progress in getting answers. Aside from leaving for work or groceries, I can’t get away from this place. I tried to trick whatever was controlling me. I pretended as if I wanted to check out the new natural food shop that opened near the airport. I’d already bought tickets for the first flight back to my parent’s country. I jerked the wheel at the last second, but my hands turned it the other way. Instead of getting to the airport, I wrecked my car against a steel roadside barrier. It was a miracle I didn’t die.
Amanda picked me up from the hospital to give me a ride back to my apartment when I was released. I wanted nothing more but to beg the doctors to let me stay for one more day. The words simply wouldn’t come. I sat in her car listening to happily her talk the entire way.
Everything she said sounded forced. I felt trapped in some sort of play, all of us just acting out our parts. I wondered if she was doing all of this against her will as well. Before the accident, she introduced me to a friend of hers who lived one floor above ours. Jasmine was the opposite of Amanda in almost every way. She was shy, with dark hair and eyes. Lately, Amanda started inviting her over more often. It was clear they both wanted me to start dating one of them. I was thankful that it was only a suggestion, and I could refuse the request. I still had an ounce of choice in my actions.
I took some time off work which was brutal. I hated staying in the apartment. A set of unseen eyes followed my every movement. My only moments of peace were at work, mostly at the bookstore I took some part-time shifts.
Days started to mix. I found I couldn’t tell anyone what I was going through. Nightmares of being in the dark impossible basement haunted my nights. I had terrible flashes of memory being in a dark room with twisted bodies. I tore at them, enjoying the task. Every morning I woke up sick to my stomach. Some mornings I spotted dried bleed under my nails making me convinced I wasn’t having dreams.
The only way I was able to keep track of days was because of my bookstore shifts. A regular started to come in on Tuesdays and Sundays. The store was always slow. The area had gotten run down. Most of the time you see more homeless people around than others shopping. When I heard him coming into the store for the first time, I expected to see someone just trying to get out of the rain for a few hours.
Instead, I spotted a person that made me forget my troubles for a moment. A green wallet poked out of his back pocket with cute frogs printed on the front. He wasted no time going to a shelf to pick up a book to carefully look over the pages. He held the paperback as if it was a delicate thing and not the run-of-the-mill old, yellowed mystery. His light hair sort of matched the color of some of the older pages that faded over time. I expected him to have bright eyes but his was so dark they almost looked black. I didn’t understand why I stared at him for so long. There was something about him that made him seem different from any other customer who had ever come into the store.
If he noticed my stares, he didn’t say anything. He just went about the store carefully picking out books. Not a single one had something in common with the other. He was looking for some quality in them I didn’t understand. His footsteps didn’t make a sound on the normally creaking hardwood floor. When he had a stack, he came over to pay. We didn’t speak once the entire time he browsed.
I told him the total and he pulled out the frog wallet to give the exact change. Who even carries cash anymore? I bagged up his books and for some reason called out to him before he left the store.
“You should really hide your wallet better. There aren’t the best kind of people around here.” I told him.
I hated how tired I sounded. He stopped to feel where he placed his wallet. Because it was so long it poked out from his back pocket. He lifted his baggy sweater to hide the frog print from sight.
“Thank you.” His voice was so soft I barely heard it from the door.
I couldn’t explain why that simple interaction meant so much to me. I wondered if it was because it was just so damn normal. I couldn’t talk to Amanda or Jasmine without thinking they were hiding something from me. I wanted to scream at my co-workers about what was going on at my apartment, but the words came out wrong. It had been so long since I’d gotten to just say what I wanted to. I honestly thought I had a chance to get through whatever was happening if I could keep just one normal piece of my life.
“I think you’re working too much. Maybe you should take some time off.”
Those words from Norman cut through me. How long had I been staying in this building when he dropped that bomb with a smile? Two months? Three?
“I should at least keep my part-time job. I still need to pay rent.” I said in a shaking voice.
He gave it some thought. The same bright smile I hated came to his face when he nodded. We both knew paying rent was a lie. Not a single payment had come out of my account since I moved in. We still pretended as if everything was normal.
I started to sleep more after I gave up one of my jobs. I had nothing else to do with my time besides pacing my apartment and sleeping. Sometimes I was blessed with no dreams. But when I did have nightmares, they were far more vivid than before. The one that frightened me the most was one I would never forget.
I felt my bare feet against the cold marble floor as I went to the elevator. The long free fall towards the dark basement caught in my stomach. My legs brought me into that darkness that felt as if it went on forever. I heard noises that almost sounded human. As I walked further along, the floor became wet. The overwhelming sharp iron smell suffocated the air.
A hint of candlelight showed at the end of the pitch-black room. I wanted to turn back, but my legs kept going. I honestly would rather die than see what waited there.
I stopped at the edge of a wooden stage. Deep red layers of curtains blocked the view of the back wall. Two people stood waiting for everyone to arrive. The figures beside me barely in the light weren’t human. At least, they weren’t anymore. Each body twisted into ghoulish shapes that made my skin crawl.
The first figure on the stage spoke in a garbled tone. Their form is nothing but hazy static. I knew the second person on the stage though. Every part of my body screamed at her to run. Amanda stood so close to me. If I had control over myself, I knew I could have saved her. A wide crazed smile stayed on her face as the other figure handed her a long-curved dagger. She raised the blade towards herself, the expression of pure joy never leaving.
I woke up screaming before I saw the blade come down. My body was covered in sweat. I sprinted to the bathroom to purge whatever was in my stomach. My entire body refused to stop shaking. I wished that was just a nightmare. Glancing down at my dirty bare feet I knew it wasn’t.
My only thought was to make sure Amanda was alright. I ran next door, my fist hitting hard on the wood. To my shock. The door opened. Carefully, I took a few steps inside to find, nothing. No personal items. No food in the fridge. No sigh she had ever lived here.
I never even knew her last name. I tried to call the police to report someone missing. The same sickness came to me before I dialed the last number. Without anything else I could do, I took a shower, got dressed and waited silently in my room for Tuesday to come around. I needed a normal interaction with a person not connected with this building.
This terrible place wouldn’t let me wait in peace. A knock came to my door. I refused to answer it until I heard a female voice on the other side.
“I heard you weren’t feeling well. I um, have some food.”
Against my better judgment, I let Jasmine inside hoping she may tell me what happened to Amanda. She went right to work warming up some soup on the stove.
“You look awful.” She half-joked.
“What day is it?” I replied in a cracked voice.
“Monday. You really should take better care of yourself.”
“Have you heard from Amanda?” I pressed, too tired to run around the subject.
“I don’t know an Amanda. Hey, how about I stay with you for a day or so? Just to help you get back on your feet.” She offered, her soft voice staying chipper.
“Please, I just want some answers.” I begged.
I was at the end of my rope. I would get on my hands and knees if she would just tell me why I couldn’t leave this damn place, or what the hell was happening in the basement. She stopped cooking and turned off the stove. Within seconds she had my hand and started to brush back my hair.
“You poor thing. You know, if you just accept this it’s not that bad. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want. Just embrace what your body is asking for.”
I jerked out of her grasp, a chill going through my body. The kind and soft Jasmine I was introduced to shifted her personality on a dime.
“You should go.” I said keeping my voice even.
“Your girlfriend isn’t here anymore. Why bother holding onto your feelings for her? Like, move on already. Just bury her!”
I saw red before she even stopped speaking. I did something I never thought I could. I slapped her. Hard. She stumbled, almost falling to the ground. The fact I felt some kind of positive reaction from the assault made me want to run away from myself. Instead of crying or getting upset, she laughed.
“Did you like that? You should keep going. I don’t mind.”
Using more force than I wanted to, I grabbed her by the wrist to drag her out of my apartment. I know I hurt her again. She didn’t struggle, just laughed at the entire time. I slammed the door on her face, my breathing refusing to settle down.
“Call me! I’ll come by any time!”
I gritted my teeth holding back a reply. I hated this. Everything. I hated what I was becoming. I hated this apartment, and I hated being without answers. At least I learned it all happened on a Monday. Just one more day and I could get to the bookstore for a hint of a normal life.
It was raining on that Tuesday. I brought an extra umbrella just in case. The regular who treated the books so carefully came in right on time. His hair and shoulders were wet showing he’d been caught in the rain. Aside from saying hello or complimenting his wallet, I hadn’t said much to him. And that was all I needed. I considered how weirded out he might feel if he knew just how much I looked forward to saying one or two words to him.
I watched his routine of picking out used books in such a gentle way. I still had no idea what he was looking for when it came to them. He picked out such a different arrange of topics I thought he might be getting these for something other than reading them. Oddly enough, I’ve never had the urge to ask him anything about himself.
He paid with the exact change again. Before he walked away, I came out from behind the counter with the spare umbrella.
“I have two if you need one.” I offered.
He looked surprised at the offer. He quietly thanked me. Our fingers touched and the strangest thing happened. The brief contact hurt. I pulled back, my hand feeling as if it was on fire. My face then turned a deep shade of red over the odd reaction.
“I… just got a cramp.” I lied.
He wasn’t buying it. He pulled out the receipt to write something on the back.
“If you need help with anything, call me.”
It was the most I’ve heard him speak. He had some sort of accent I couldn’t place. Carefully I took the paper he offered to look over what he wrote down.
Seren Wryn, followed by a long phone number.
I wanted to refuse his offer. I needed something normal in my life. Calling a regular customer for help wasn’t normal.
“Anything. I promise I’ll answer.” He said in a stronger voice.
I nodded, feeling a strange fluttering in my stomach. Someone was on my side. Someone outside of that awful apartment building. And that was the reason why I couldn’t call him.
“Thank you.” I meant those words.
Just knowing someone offered to help was enough. He left fully expecting a call from me at some point. Deep down I hoped we would only see each other in the bookstore.
I think Norman must have sensed my good mood that day. I saw him again in the lobby. He stopped me, his expression breaking for half a second.
“You still look awful. How about leaving that part-time job of yours? The stress can’t be doing you any good. I have some other projects you would do great with! I’ll tell you tomorrow what they are.”
His poor acting no longer could cover up how sinister this man was. He knew I liked something about the bookstore, and he finally took it away. I was given a taste of freedom, then stripped of it. I hated him at that moment.
“Enough to kill me?” He asked, eyes narrowed and deep voice mocking.
I wanted to. There wasn’t anyone else in the lobby. My hands twitched wanting to go for his throat. For once, what he wanted me to do and what I wanted aligned. I held back knowing I would be playing right into his hand.
“Go up to your room and wait for tonight. We have such fun plans!”
My feet listened to him. My body moved stiffly to the elevator. Only when I entered my apartment the spell I was under broke. I screamed, all the fear and frustration coming out. I wanted to call for help. I wanted to tell someone what was going on. Any time I tried, everything revolted against me. I now had nothing. Not even myself. My only choice appeared to be to just wait for whatever Norman wanted to do with me.