I knew one day I would have to tell this story. It took me a year to finally sit down and do it. I've been told that doing this could help me move on, but that's not what this is for. I don't expect to move on. The girl in 402 will always be with me. I'm telling this story, simply, because I have to.
I lived there for two years. It was a tiny little unit, tucked away on the very right of the fourth floor. Bachelor is almost generous. It was the kind of dingy place that never looks bright no matter how many lights you have on, but I liked it. I'm good with a small space, I enjoy not having that much to take care of. I could do without the bug problems, the leaks, the electrical problems, and the rotten smells that just sort of happen, but it is what it is.
There was a level of comfort, as well, to living on the fourth floor. Nobody robs a random fourth floor apartment unit. Nobody can peek into your window. It's unlikely to get shot at… yeah, I lived in one of those kinds of cities. You didn't walk around at night if you could help it. You just didn't.
I got accustomed to noise there. The cars, the sirens, the dogs barking, the shouting, the occasional echoing pop of a gunshot. It all becomes a whirling auditory soup. I learned to tune it out fairly quickly. In fact, I learned to tune out a lot of things. I was in one of those periods of life that I think some people call "the grind" but really it's more like being beaten into submission. Working to live, living to work – not living at all, just continuing to exist. All of this to say, I wasn't very perceptive or sociable at this time. I was sleepwalking and daydreaming through life.
I'd say I could do my routine blindfolded except for the fact that I would stub my toe in the same spot on the coffee table 4 times a week at least. Funny how that works. I guess that was part of the routine too. But that's what I mean about not being perceptive. The building could've caught fire and most days I probably wouldn't have noticed until I actually went up in flames. I didn't retain any faces I saw or names I heard. It was all just a blur, each day blending into the next. Until one night.
I got home from work like usual in the evening as the sun began to descend past the buildings. I couldn't afford a car, but thankfully my work was close enough to walk to. The days were getting shorter now so my walks home became more brisk. The apartment still smelled of dust and paint as they had finally sent someone to replace a moldy bit of wall the day before. I could still feel the sensation of dust collecting on my tongue when I opened my mouth and it getting sucked into my nose with every inhale. The smell of paint was strong, but infinitely better than some of the other smells.
I opened the window to attempt to ventilate the place, I emptied the bucket of rust coloured water collecting in the bathroom (they couldn't be bothered to fix that as well), and I collapsed onto my bed. This was my ritual. After every work day, I would always take 10-15 minutes to just spread out on my bed like a cat and decompress from everything. But tonight, after about two minutes, I heard a noise. This noise stood out from all the outdoor soup because it sounded a lot closer, and it sounded like a voice. A soft, feminine voice; making some kind of subtle moan or whimper. I froze in place. It startled me. It sounded SO close. Like it might be in the room. I didn't move a muscle; I didn't want to make a noise. I wanted to hear it again so I could tell where it was coming from. For a second I thought it might be coming from under my bed.
After a few seconds, the sound repeated. A faint, girly whimper. A bit louder than the last one. This time I could tell where it was coming from. It was behind me. Specifically, the other side of the wall behind my bed. That gave me some relief. It was my neighbor. But then I was confused. I didn't remember EVER hearing my neighbor making noise before. If I could suddenly hear a noise that soft, that mild, why couldn't I hear anything before? Did I even have a neighbor before? Is this person new? I felt a rush of shame at just how detached I had become.
I reached back into my mind to try and recall any memories I had about my neighbor. I couldn't find a single one. I remembered some people being on my floor, but I couldn't remember ever seeing anyone enter or exit the door next to mine. I did, however, recall seeing people yesterday morning trying to move a couch up the stairs in the lobby. It was a fairly regular occurrence to see things like this. People rotated in and out of this place all the time. I suppose nobody else really wanted to stick around that long, and I can see why. But I guess that answers it. As peculiar as it is, I didn't have a neighbor before – for two years – and now I do. And now they're… whimpering? Why are they whimpering?
Slowly these sporadic whimpers become more defined sobs. A woman was crying. I didn't know what to do. I just decided to be as quiet as possible and put on some headphones to let them have their privacy and spare myself from feeling any more awkward. It felt wrong to hear this, and I immediately felt bad for this person. I made sure to play some extra loud music.
About an hour later, I removed my headphones and the noises had stopped in the interim. I very briefly debated going over and telling them about how thin the walls apparently are, but I made the much easier decision to wait. Wait until they do something loud and not so private so I can use that as the excuse. Like the TV or something. I was weighing my options. But I couldn't talk to them about THIS. I couldn't say "Hey, you were crying real loud over there."
The rest of the night was quiet but I didn't have the best sleep. This disturbance in the routine, and the thought of having to face this person at some point was giving me some anxiety. By the morning, however, the alarm kicked me back into the routine. I heard no noises from the neighbor, so life resumed.
I got back home from work that night, much later than usual because someone decided to no-show at work. Walking home in the dark made me paranoid and I hated days when this happened. When I got inside I was relieved, and the dust and paint were not nearly as oppressive to the senses this time. I did the window, the water bucket, and then collapsed on the bed like clockwork. What happened yesterday was still on my mind, so I made sure to be extra quiet when laying down. After a few seconds of silence, I was ready to try and remove the whole ordeal from my brain. Then I heard the voice.
I couldn't make out the first word I heard from the other side of the wall, but I listened for the rest. "It was a poetry book." I heard in a muffled but distinctly feminine voice. Quieter than yesterday, I thought. She must be further away from the wall.
"I can't remember exactly."
"It always feels like we're going somewhere."
"Maybe that's why we see them most at night."
"I mixed up our glasses."
There was a moderate gap of a few seconds between everything she said. Clearly, I was only hearing half of a conversation. Phone conversation most likely, or else the other person is just insanely quiet.
It was difficult to gauge her tone from how muffled the voice was, but there was a kind of melancholy in it. I wondered what was going on, and I kind of laughed at how random the phrases were. I thought about listening further but I stopped myself. It wasn't my business. It's not for me to hear. I once again thought about going over and letting her know about the noise, but it didn't feel like a good time. I put on my headphones once again to try and enjoy the minimal amount of respite I had left in the day, and that was the end of it for that night.
The third night I got home on time. I was a bit surprised not to hear anything from her at first. I guessed that maybe she went to bed early or went out for the night. It was Friday after all, usually people do things on Friday nights. I still made sure to be quiet when near her wall just in case she was sleeping. I made a mental note to look up how much soundproofing panels cost. I probably should have thought of that earlier.
I got up from my 15 minute "work sucks" bed sprawling and headed over to my computer to do that important research, but – as I often did – I forgot my coffee table exists and I stubbed my toe. The heavy table shifted inches across the wooden floor and pain shot through me like a shockwave. I don't remember which expletive left my mouth involuntarily that time, but it was definitely one of them. I was so annoyed. Every damn time. I could just move the table, why don't I ever just move the fucking table?
"Are you okay?" My heart leapt in my chest. I physically jumped back on one leg. I thought she wasn't home, and I forgot how close she could sound. It scared the shit out of me. She also spoke quite loudly, she probably assumed it would be harder to hear through the wall than it was.
"Oh. Yeah. I'm good. Sorry. I just stubbed my toe." I responded back in a shaky voice.
"Shit. That sucks." I could hear a chuckle in her voice, she was clearly amused. Her volume decreased to match mine.
I laughed in return, "It happens ALL the time… so sorry to disturb you."
"No no it's fine, I'm just reading… you sure you're good? That sounded violent." she responded, sounding half-concerned and half-joking.
"Yeah, no, I'm alright. It sounded worse than it was. It's a heavy table and… the walls here-" I began to explain before she cut me off.
"They're REALLY thin, huh?" she finished my thought and then continued, "I can hear you so well, that's insane. I'm surprised I didn't hear you before now."
"Yeah I guess I'm quiet… and, well, I'm at work most of the day and get home late. So." I didn't like how awkward I sounded. I think I forgot how to have normal conversations.
"Has it been noisy for you? I'm sorry if it was, I didn't know. I just moved in." she sounded very kind, and friendly. I was taken aback by it a little bit.
"Oh, don't be sorry and… nothing much. I think I probably heard you talking on the phone a bit the other night. I didn't listen in or anything, I put on my headphones." I explained. I hoped she believed me about the headphones. It was the truth but, it's hard to trust that sort of thing. I didn't mention the crying, I didn't want her to feel awkward or anything.
"Oh. Sorry about that…" she said. I detected a hint of confusion in her voice but I ignored it.
"It's okay. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I just didn't know when it would be a good time and… It's new to me too. I didn't have a neighbor before, I don't think." As I spoke, I found it harder to rationalize why I hadn't told her before now… I really should have.
"Really? How long have you been here?" she asked.
"Two years."
"No one lived here before me for two years? Are you sure?" She was very perplexed.
"Well… honestly, no, I'm not sure. I just never heard anyone before, and I never saw anyone before." I probably sounded like a total recluse, but I was more interested in why she was so confused.
"Oh. That's strange… I'm pretty sure there were people living here right before me, at least that's what the guy said." Her tone had shifted, and what she said sent a bit of a shiver down my spine. It didn't make any sense. How could I not hear them, not once, when I can practically hear this woman breathing?
After a brief silence, she spoke again and returned to a more casual tone "Well… maybe they weren't around much. Maybe it was a second home or something. Anyways, sorry again about the noise. I'll get some soundproofing stuff for my end right away." I admired her positivity, and I didn't feel any judgment from her for how strange I probably came across. It was really nice. And she had a point about it being a second home. That could be the case. I don't know why they would have a second home in this shitty building but… what else could the explanation be?
"I'm Jane by the way. Nice to kind-of meet you." she added in a chipper manner. While it was refreshing to have such a pleasant interaction, a small part of me worried about her. She was so carefree and optimistic – almost naïve. She must be new to the city. I wondered how long it would take before this place whittled away at her trust in humanity. The trust that she seemed to give to me so freely. The thought of her spirits being slowly crushed like mine made me sad.
"I'm Leigh. Nice to meet you too." A small impulse told me not to give my name, but I decided to reciprocate her trust. "And yeah, I'll soundproof my end too."
"Have a good rest of your night. And be careful." she said. I found that slightly ominous but then I remembered the toe thing.
"I will." I chuckled. "Enjoy your book."
That was my first conversation with the girl in 402. Over that weekend, we spent a lot of time getting acclimated to each others' presence as we each waited to get our soundproofing. I expected it to be a lot more awkward than it was. I attribute all of that to her. She had a way of making everything seem fine, and almost playful. She would knock on the wall two times and say things like "about to vacuum, sorry" And "my bad" when she would make noise. I would follow her lead and do the same two knocks. It was kind of nice.
Out of the blue on Sunday, she knocked twice and said "You know… it's weird. I don't hear my neighbors on the other side at all. Only you." We pondered over that a bit. She didn't seem to sweat it much, but it WAS odd that it was only on one side. These odd things were beginning to stack up. Why just this wall? Why only now? I began to wonder if more odd things have been happening all along and I'm only starting to notice them now.
Monday night I got home to find my package had arrived. The soundproofing was here. It was a little bittersweet seeing it on my doorstep. I knocked twice and told her I got it. She confirmed that she got hers too. She actually went out and physically bought it. I guess that speaks to the kind of people we are.
We both said we'd put it up right away. Both of us not wanting to continue to inconvenience each other any longer… but then that didn't end up happening. Instead we just kept talking. I didn't mean to, and I don't think she did either, but we just kept finding more to say. The friendly small talk about the building and whatnot gave way to more meaningful conversation. We talked about how we got to where we were. We talked about where we wanted to go from here. I wound up sitting on the floor with my back to her wall and I could her hear words right behind my head as if we were back-to-back. Luckily the paint on that bit of wall was dry by now.
To her, this place was a fresh start. She didn't go into detail, and I didn't want to pry, but it was clear that this was some kind of escape from something. Maybe that's why she was so upbeat, because she was able to escape a bad situation. Or maybe, she was just always this upbeat.
She told me that she was going to enroll in the college here, and that she was going to start an online shop, and work as a waitress on the side. Eventually she wanted to open a restaurant. She even told me where, and what the name and theme would be. She told me all these plans, all these wonderful things she wanted to do, all laid out step by step. I don't know what was preventing her from doing them before, but it made me smile hearing how excited she was about them. Something about the conviction in her voice made me truly believe she could do it all. Then she asked me about my plans. I froze up a bit. I didn't have plans. I wish I did, I was envious of people who did, but I could never seem to figure it out. At some point I think I shut that part of me off entirely.
"This was as far as I got" is what I told her. We sat in silence for a bit after that.
"There's still time." she said softly, breaking the silence. I could feel in her voice a new level of comfort and safety. All guards were down on both sides. She knew what I needed to hear, and I knew somehow that those words meant more coming from her than they would anyone else. We simply got each other. In that moment, there was no wall.
Eventually we said goodnight, and agreed to put the panels up tomorrow. Those soft, comforting words rattled around in my brain all night long. They never really left.
I woke up early the next day, and I began putting them up before work. It was a bit sad at first, but it's not like she was gone or anything. She was still right next door. We could just be friends normally now. I went to work excited about the idea.
On my way home, I decided that I would properly introduce myself face to face. Just to say hi. I felt confident enough in doing so by this point of knowing her. I got up to the door of 402, and after a brief hesitation, I did the two knocks.
About two minutes passed and there was no answer. I tried again. Still nothing. I was disappointed but not dejected. She must not be around. I'll try again tomorrow, I thought.
When I got inside, I was immediately struck by how much quieter it was. All that constant city noise was getting absorbed by the panels. I didn't even think about that. I wasn't used to this kind of quiet. Now every small sound was large. I felt vulnerable. Like all the noise was a big comfy blanket I could hide under and now I'm exposed like a nerve. It would take some getting used to.
An hour passed in this utter dreary silence. I tried to brave it without distraction to try and acclimate as quickly as possible, but it was just too freaky, so I had to put on some music.
Not five seconds into the song, I heard "No way!" coming from the wall. It was her.
"Jane? You can still hear me??" I almost shouted in disbelief.
"Did you put your things up?" she responded; her voice was exactly as clear as before.
"Yeah! Did you?"
"I covered the whole wall!" she shouted.
"What the hell?" I was feeling mixed emotions. On one hand, it was nice to talk to her again. On the other hand… what the hell? We were both utterly stumped by this. Neither of us could come up with an explanation or a solution. She offered to try and ask the super to come do something. I told her she could TRY.
Eventually we settled back down and accepted the situation.
"Well… shit, I guess you're here to stay." she said.
"I guess I am." I couldn't tell if she was happy about this or annoyed. I couldn't quite tell if I was either.
"Alright… I hope you like ABBA then."
I hated ABBA. This was a nightmare.
We resumed our routine from the days before. It remained mildly inconvenient, while also being oddly comforting. That night we talked more, sat in the same spots on the floor as the night before. I don't know why we chose to sit on the floor when both of our beds were right there, but it felt right. The discoloration of the new patch of paint on the wall marked the talking spot perfectly, and it felt a bit nostalgic. It's not often you sit on the floor as an adult.
With all the excess noise being drowned out, it felt like she was even closer. I could literally hear her breathing. We talked a little bit about our upbringings, and we aren't terribly different. Her dad sucked, my dad died. We all got fucked up somehow. The good news is she informed me that I don't snore loudly at night, which is a huge relief.
I laid up in bed, after she had said goodnight. I still hadn't acclimated to the silence, and now I had to bear it if I wanted to sleep. It wasn't working. I was just awake with my thoughts, which is a place I usually hate being, but not so much tonight.
I thought about Jane, and I thought about the weirdness of this situation. As odd as it all was, it was at least interesting. By far the most interesting thing to happen to me since I moved here. I began having those middle of the night urges to google the principles of sound waves and how they travel. Or how often apartments are vacant for long periods of time. But I resisted, determined that if I laid here unmoving in the dark long enough, sleep would happen.
Briefly piercing the silence, I heard a mattress creak a few times and blankets shift. It sounded like she rolled over. Then back to nothing.
I checked the clock. 2 AM. Maybe sleep was hopeless. I stared into the dark of my apartment so long I started seeing abstract shapes and folds fade in and out of the shadows and the walls seemed to wobble, as they are want to do. I was so tired.
I began to fade but then another mattress creak brought me back to lucidity. This one was different. It was a deeper creak, and singular, like one fluid motion. She sat up.
Without question, that was the sound… but that was the only sound. No creaks, no fidgeting, no swiping sounds of blankets moving while she slowly awoke. It was strange and abrupt. It could be that she had a nightmare, but there was no heavy breathing or gasping or any of that.
I waited to hear another sound, but it didn't come. A half hour passed. I didn't hear her get out of bed, I didn't hear her lay back down. Was she just… sitting? My mind began to paint of picture of a woman sitting still in bed in the pitch black darkness and it unnerved me.
Maybe she did lay back down, just slowly and softly enough that I didn't hear it, I thought. Maybe she had her book or something – she said she was reading the other day. Maybe she never sat up at all, and I mistook that sound for something else.
I didn't hear anything else that night, and about an hour later I managed to get some sleep.
I wondered if I could bring this up to her. Would it be weird? Eventually I decided against it. I don't want her thinking about me listening to her sleep. The situation is already a bit uncomfortable as it is when it comes to privacy. Plus, it was probably nothing.
The next night I got home and double knocked on the wall. She double knocked back. This was our new normal.
"Hey, never date a tennis player. You know why?" she said.
"Why's that?" I responded through my grin as I dealt with the water bucket once again.
"Love means nothing to them." She made sure to sound extra dramatic.
"That's – wow. That's tremendous." I responded, bemused.
"I'm gonna hit you with one of those every day, I decided." she said emphatically.
"Oh god." I pretended to sound annoyed.
"That's right. This is why I don't have a boyfriend. They all run away. But you can't run away."
"I can move away."
"No you can't, you're broke as shit just like me. If you could have, you would have by now." She had a point. "So deal with it. Here: what do you call a beehive with no exit?"
"No. No more. This is harassment. I weep for your future husband… when you bring a man over, I'm going to shout at him to run as fast as he can. I will just scream bloody murder until he leaves."
"Un-BEE-LEAVE-able."
"Goddamn it. I like that one." I replied, I couldn't lie.
"Also I'm never bringing a man over here, are you kidding? You hear enough as it is." Again, she had a point.
We went about our business, and later that night we talked a bit more. These floor chats before bed we'd started having had become a highlight of my day and I began looking forward to them while I was at work.
A part of my brain was trying to recontextualize this into a romantic thing, but it really wasn't that, and I didn't want it to be. At least not right now. It was just… nice. It was nice having someone to talk to, who was easy to talk to, who made me laugh, and who I felt comfortable with. It was nice to feel genuinely connected to somebody after feeling disconnected for so long. It was nice to have a friend.
"Can I ask you something?" I inquired.
"Yeah." she answered without hesitation. "Why did you trust me, so early on?" I had this question for a while but I felt comfortable enough now to ask.
Jane paused for a moment before responding, "What makes you think I trusted you?"
I was a bit taken aback by her question. "Oh. Well, you were just so friendly and… open. I was just wondering… this is a seedy place and you don't know me…"
She cut me off "I was friendly, yeah, but that's… that's how you have to be. That's like ‘customer service voice'. I don't want to anger the strange man living next to me, you know?"
That made a lot of sense, I didn't think of it that way.
She continued, "But I trust you now."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I think you're a good guy. I think you probably won't kill me… what about me, do you trust me?"
"I mean… I'm still not 100% convinced you exist to be honest. I've still never seen you. You didn't answer your door when I tried to say hi, so… you might just be a figment of my imagination. Who's to say?" I joked, but a part of me thought that would actually explain things.
"Wait, when was this?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"Oh, after we put up the sound proofing. I was gonna say hi when I got home from work, but you didn't answer."
"Really? Damn. I didn't hear you." she responded, sounding legitimately disappointed.
"Well that's a first." I joked.
Jane chuckled, "I know, right?"
I sighed, "Alright I gotta try to get some sleep tonight. Last night was fucking awful."
"Yeah? I slept like a baby last night, these soundproofing things rule."
…she slept like a baby? The image in my head of her sitting up in her bed replayed and gave me chills once again. Clearly, I must be mistaken. I shook off the thought.
"Well I still need to get used to it… good night, Jane."
"Hear you later, Leigh." That corny son of a bitch. She was serious about doing those jokes every day, wasn't she?
I heard her get up and make her way to bed. A few minutes later and her side fell quiet. I crawled into my bed and I once again stared into the dark. Sleep still wasn't coming easy. I dreaded this, but this time it only took about an hour to fall asleep, of which I was grateful. The silence still unsettled me.
Suddenly I awoke, still in the darkness – even deeper now. I don't know what woke me up, but when I checked the clock, it was 2 am. I wasn't happy. I tried to fall back to sleep, and it was slowly working until… I heard it again. That same deep bed creak. That unmistakable sound of someone sitting up. Now I was fully awake.
Minutes past and I heard nothing else. Same as before. Like she was just… sitting there. This time however, I just had to know. I was confused, concerned, and pretty creeped out. So I just leaned close to the wall and whispered, "Jane?"
Nothing happened at first. But then I heard the bed very slowly begin to creak again. Agonizingly slow and subtle. It sounded like she was… turning. Or at least adjusting her position in some way. I heard what sounded like her hands touching the wall, splayed out far apart on either side of me and then… I heard her breathing.
I could only hear her breathe before when we were sitting back-to-back against the wall, so she must have been pressed right up against it. Her breathing sounded different this time, though. It sounded hollow, like she had a cold. I was petrified. The hair on the back of my neck was standing on end. What was she doing? Was she even awake? What must she look like right now?
I just stared at the wall. Imagining her on the other side, pressed up against it like some feral thing. Was this really happening? Am I just too tired and loopy to be able to tell? Maybe the creaking was her laying back down and she's just breathing heavier than normal because she's asleep. I wanted to rationalize this so badly.
I waited for something else to happen, some other sound… I waited hours… but nothing did, and I was too scared to say anything else. Was she still there? Was she pressed against the wall all night long? I tried to get a little bit of sleep. I managed maybe 45 minutes but it was not pleasant.
I couldn't focus on work the next day. I was tired, and I was so creeped out by what happened. I couldn't think of an explanation. But I knew there had to be one. There had to be something. I couldn't get the image out of my head, and every time that image replayed, she looked a little bit less human. I pictured her smiling a grotesque toothy grin. I imagined her drooling, her eyes open as wide as saucers, her fingers long and bony caressing the wall. None of this was rooted in reality, I knew that, but I couldn't help but think of it.
I got back home and this time I hesitated before doing my customary knocks on the wall, but I did, and she returned them – same as always. "I was just thinking… mankind has made a lot of great inventions."
"Jane…"
"But the dry-erase board has to be the most remarkable."
I laughed. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to laugh at her jokes today, but I did. She's still Jane. At least she seems to be. I was way overthinking.
"That one's pretty good, I can't lie."
"You like it?" she asked, sounding proud of herself.
"I do… hey I have to ask you something though." I said, trying to remain at least somewhat casual.
"Shoot."
"Do you… sleepwalk?"
The other side went silent for a minute. "Um. No… never in my life." she responded, instantly sounding unnerved.
I fell silent too… I didn't know how to explain. But she continued.
"That's a scary ass question to ask out of nowhere. Did you hear something?"
"I heard… I don't know exactly what I heard."
"Stop. Don't talk like that. Is this revenge for the corny jokes? I'll stop the corny jokes. Don't do this to me." She pleaded in a half-joking manner.
"No, I promise I'm not messing with you – and it's probably nothing. It's just… you didn't get up at all last night? Or the night before?"
"No, I did not get up at all. Please tell me what you heard." she said firmly.
I told Jane everything that happened. I tried to be delicate, but also honest. I trusted that she didn't know what was going on. That became evident to me by how freaked out she seemed. I know it sounded crazy, I just hope she didn't think I was messing with her. It was difficult to tell from her tone.
Initially she wanted to debunk it all, saying that I must have heard something else – which I admitted could very well be true. Nevertheless, she told me she was going to stay with her sister for the night. Probably a good idea. She gave me her phone number and told me to call if anything happened. That put my mind at ease about whether or not she trusted me.
I told her to be safe, and she tried once again to reassure me that it was probably nothing, but I felt a sense of immense dread as soon as she left. Suddenly I really didn't want to be alone here.
That night was the quietest of my life, and not in a good way. I thought about drowning it out by putting on some music or a movie, but nothing felt right.
I wasn't sure if I'd be able to sleep that night, but eventually I managed. I ended up having a dream about a woman wearing a veil. through the veil I could vaguely make out three large black holes where her eyes and mouth should be. I couldn't recall anything that happened in the dream… only the image of that woman. I wondered if that was my subconscious way of trying to visualize Jane. I still didn't know what she actually looked like so maybe my brain had trouble coming up with distinct features for her. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
It was still dark when I awoke from the dream. I felt a deep unease as I checked the time. 2 am, again. This time I wasn't eager to fall back to sleep. I didn't want to see the veiled woman again, so I stayed up a little while longer, attempting to ease my mind. I thought of every possible way to reassure myself. Eventually I began to fall into a façade of comfort, until…
Creak.
I went ice cold. No. This can't be. I didn't just hear that.
It was that same "sitting up" creak. But I heard Jane leave. Could she have come back late while I was sleeping? Maybe. But what if it isn't her?
What if it was never her?
My mind raced. So many improbable scenarios played out in my mind. None of them were good. Was someone else in there with her the whole time and she didn't know? Someone hiding away, only coming out when she's sleeping? Was that creak her sitting up, or someone else sitting down? Do they watch her sleep?
All I knew for sure was that someone was on the other side of this wall. Because I could hear them breathing again.
I wanted to do something. I wanted to know for sure. But I was powerless. Calling out to it last time was the most horrific mistake of my life, I didn't want to try that again. I wanted to call Jane but I was afraid of making a sound. Instead I just waited, and listened.
I was in a petrified daze. Hyperalert but also completely exhausted. My body wanted to shut down but my brain wouldn't let me. It may have been minutes, or it may have been hours, I couldn't tell. The image of the veiled woman kept reappearing in the back of my subconscious.
Eventually I decided to call Jane. If I heard a phone ring on the other side, then I would know. I typed the number in and hit call…
"The number you are trying to reach is not in service." What? How could that be?
Suddenly, cutting through the silence was a sound I had become very familiar with, and yet was the one sound I was the least prepared for.
Knock knock.
A wave of shock shot through me. It was our knock. I didn't dare respond. If that isn't her… that means whoever it is has been listening to us. Now they're reaching out to me. They know I can hear them… but what if it's just her? She came back and was trying to see if I'm still awake. The thoughts whirled around like a hurricane. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear the silence. I couldn't bear the uncertainty. It was all too much.
I got up, I grabbed my keys, and I left. As I walked out into the hallway, I saw her door. It looked the same as it always has; but to me, right now, it was a portal to hell. Someone… or something… was on the other side of that door. It might be pressed up against it. It might be looking out the peephole at me. I darted away. I simply couldn't be here anymore.
I got outside and suddenly I could breathe again. The noise of the bustling city greeted me like an old friend. I never thought I would find such comfort in it. I sat down on a bench in front of my building. I wasn't going to go back. Not while the sun was down.
I knew where my window was, so I knew where 402's window was. I didn't want to look at it but I had to… it was completely black. I couldn't see anything inside. That was good, I thought. But that didn't stop me from feeling like I was being watched. I felt eyes up there looming over me. I couldn't rationalize it, but something inside was telling me that whatever was in 402 wasn't a person. I fought against that thought for a long time, but I was starting to accept it.
I tried my best to ignore it all. It wasn't easy. Eventually I laid down on the hard wooden slats and was able to some much-needed shut eye. I slept better than the last few nights.
I called in sick to work the next morning. I wanted to be here when Jane got home… or to see if she was already home and last night was a massive overreaction.
I felt safer seeing the sunlight beaming through my windows when I got back inside. I tried to occupy myself by catching up on some household chores, as the back of my mind waited anxiously for the next sound.
I heard nothing all day. The longer it went on, the more sure I became that Jane wasn't home. As the sun set, it was apparent that she decided to stay with her sister for another night. Meaning that yesterday night… definitely wasn't her. Also meaning that I was here alone for another night.
I tried calling again… I don't know why I expected the outcome to be different. Still wasn't in service. I made extra sure I got the number right. It was exactly the number she said. Why would she give me the wrong number? Was it a new phone and she got it wrong by accident? Or did what I said to her really freak her out and… maybe she thinks I'm not to be trusted. She placated me with a false number and then got the hell away from me. That outcome would've hurt the most. But a third idea crept into my mind too… the idea that maybe SHE couldn't be trusted. I vehemently resisted that idea.
Night fell and the dread came with it. Part of me wanted to go outside to the bench again, but another part of me had to hear it one more time first. One more time to confirm that it was still in there, and then I could call the cops, because this needed to end. I don't know why the noises always seemed to start at 2:00, but that's what I was waiting for. As 1:59 turned over, my senses sharpened. I waited, and I waited, expecting that sit-up sound. Only it didn't come.
I had hoped that not hearing it would put my mind at ease… but that was not the case. It only put me more on edge. I felt like I was being watched. I felt like the thing on the other side knew I was listening.
I couldn't hear anything… but I could feel the presence. It was there. I knew it. I just needed confirmation. The longer the silence went on, the more doubt began to creep in. The doubt infuriated me. All of this was doubt. Every second of this nightmare was doubt, and possibility, and "maybe." I knew nothing. Nothing made sense. I was afraid, and I was frustrated. So… I made a decision.
I stood facing the wall, carefully picking up my phone in one hand and my keys in the other. Ready to run and dial 911 at a moment's notice. I gathered up all the courage I had, and prepared to speak. I had to call out to it. I had to know that I wasn't crazy. I opened my mouth, but before the words could escape…
"Leigh." A soft voice whispered through the wall, and it was… Jane. She sounded further away and her voice had a slight echo to it but… it was unmistakably her voice.
"Jane?" The word fell out. My voice cracked.
"Help me." She sounded afraid. Hushed. Like she didn't want to wake something.
"Jane, what's going on?" I had a million questions, I was frantic, but I quieted my voice to match hers. Suddenly I was afraid to wake it up too.
"Please help me, Leigh."
"How are you there? When did you get back?" I whispered, not covering my desperation.
"I see it." She continued. A shiver went down my spine.
"I'm going to call the cops right now. They'll be right there." It was the only solution I had.
"I don't want to die."
She fell silent after that, but I heard the breathing against the wall again. The hair on my arms stood on end. I was too scared to think straight, but I knew this wasn't right… it was her voice but… it couldn't have been her.
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
I had enough. I ran out into the hallway and dialed 911. I told them there was an intruder. I kept it vague because vague is all I had. As I spoke, I kept my eyes on her door. I wouldn't let it out of my sight. If it left, I would see it. If it stayed, they would catch it… I hoped. They advised me to stay in my apartment and lock the door. I didn't listen.
It took around 40 minutes for them to arrive. Two officers arrived on my floor and the building manager was with them with keys to let them into her unit. I think his name was Larry. Like I said, I forgot a lot of names and faces. He shot me a brief glare when he saw me standing there. I probably woke him up with all this.
I wanted to get a glimpse into the room but I was ushered away, back into my unit. My stomach was in knots with stress, I just wanted this to be over. I didn't know what to expect. Would there be shouting? Would I hear a fight? Would there be gunshots? A part of me had a feeling… a dreadful feeling… that they would get in there and they wouldn't find anything.
Minutes passed. I waited and waited, but I couldn't hear anything from the wall. Not a peep. "Why aren't they going inside?" I thought out loud. Suddenly there was a knock at my door. I opened the door and sure enough it was the officers, flanked by Larry.
They told me what I was afraid of, "We searched the apartment, and we couldn't find any signs of someone living in there."
"You WENT inside?" I questioned. I knew they didn't go inside.
"We searched the entire unit, up and down. There was no one in there. But if you hear anything again-" After that point I tuned out. I exchanged the default pleasantries and they went on their way. I couldn't find a shit to give in any of their words, and I was too frustrated and exhausted to search for it.
I tried to get answers. Instead, I ended up with yet another question atop the pile. Why wouldn't they go inside? What did Larry tell them? I knew I wasn't getting any sleep that night. All I could do was sit on the bed and overthink. This was all bigger than I thought it was. Jane could have been in on it. Larry could have been in on it. The police could have been in on it for all I knew… I really didn't want to believe that Jane was in on it…
The way Larry glared at me… maybe it wasn't "screw you for waking me up in the middle of the night." Maybe I stirred something up that I wasn't supposed to. Maybe the problem wasn't with Jane. Maybe there wasn't an intruder, a creature, or even a ghost. Maybe it was the room itself.
As I sat and drove myself crazy with these theories, a new sound shot into my ear and sent my heart up into my throat. Some kind of rapid clacking sound. Almost sounded like someone button mashing a controller, but not as plastic-y. I jumped off the bed, and the sound stopped. The room wasn't done with me yet.
I had never heard this sound before. I couldn't place it at first, but once the initial shock wore off I knew exactly what it sounded like. It sounded like teeth chattering. I didn't want to believe that's what it was. There are lots of things that sound similar to teeth chattering. If it was any other circumstance, I could easily debunk it as the place settling. Little rhythmic cracking of hard materials rubbing together, bending. But this isn't any other circumstance.
I was frozen in fear once again. The images my mind involuntarily conjured up were instantly traumatizing. A wide, chattering, horse-like, bloody mouth upon a gaunt, sunken face. A naked man with hungry mouths strewn all over his body. A zipper made of teeth going all the way down a human head so it can open like a Venus fly trap. Those chattering mouth toys you get from a joke store haphazardly sewn into human flesh.
I pleaded for my imagination to stop, but it simply wouldn't. The mouth abominations. The veiled woman. The ghoulish watcher pressed against the wall. All my imagination, but imagination is powerful when reality is vague. One of them could be real, if this thing even has a form. Maybe it was just a shadow in the dark.
The sounds began again, now I heard scratching at the wall. Not hard. Not ferocious. Little light scrapes, nearly inaudible. Like it was just kind of… picking at it, or scribbling against it. It sounded like having a rat in the walls. I used to be afraid of rats, I thought. Now I would love nothing more than for this to only be a rat.
The sound began to change. Those little scrapes and scribbles along the wall morphed somehow. I couldn't tell if it was just my tired mind changing them the way that my tired eyes could make the stucco ceilings move and warble, but the sound changed nevertheless. The scribbles began to sound breath-y. They started sounding more like whispers than scribbles. The content of the whispers was indiscernible. My mind went to someone in a small padded room, sitting in a corner with their legs curled up to their chest, shaking and whispering incoherent gibberish to themselves.
There was an almost hypnotic effect to the whispers. I resisted the urge to move closer to try and make out any words hidden in the almost silent muttering. I wouldn't have the opportunity to try, however, because suddenly a blood-curdling scream exploded through the wall. I almost leapt out of my skin. It wasn't just any scream; it was Jane's voice again. I had never heard a scream so horrific in my life, but it was enough to break me from the trance I was falling into. I grabbed my keys and ran outside as fast as I could.
I spent another night on the bench outside. At least whatever was left of the night by this point. Even outside and far away from the room, sleep wouldn't come. The images I conjured were too horrific, and the sounds replayed over and over. The deep, frustrating, impossible uncertainty of the situation loomed over me heavily – as did the eyes that I still felt watching me from the window. I was terrified, and I felt truly alone.
Morning came and I felt the relative safety of the sun. It took a while for me to gain the courage to re-enter my apartment, but I did. Then I went to work like always. Despite all this, despite being scared out of my mind, sleep deprived, and feeling like I'm going insane; Life doesn't care. The world keeps turning. I still gotta eat. If this monotonous routine wasn't already so deeply ingrained into me, I might have had a full psychotic break by now, but my body was on autopilot. Plus, I didn't like being home anymore. Even in the day time. Last night was too much.
I didn't go home right away after work. I delayed as much as I could. I thought about staying somewhere else, but if Jane was back – and if she really was the friend I thought she was – I had to be there to warn her about the thing that uses her voice. There was also one more thing that compelled me to come back. A breadcrumb I had to follow.
I got into my building, but instead of heading up to the fourth floor I went straight into the front office… I hated this little room. Unkempt. Smelly. With a thick hum of fluorescent light tubes. Luckily, he was still there. Head down in some papers. I knew he had to have some kind of answers for me. He had to know something.
"Larry, you got a minute?" I asked, trying my best to put some extra bass into my voice.
"It's Mike."
"Fuck."
"Don't worry about it." He replied with a slight chuckle, then looked up to meet my gaze. When he saw me, his expression slightly changed.
"Ah. Um, Have a seat." He seemed to be expecting this visit. He knew something. I could see it in him.
I took the only seat without papers and envelopes all over it.
"What can I do for you?" He asked.
I had so many questions, but I wanted to choose the simplest and most broad one to start, just to see where he takes it. Only four words popped into my head right away.
"What's wrong with 402?"
Mike gave me a half hearted grin. He knew this was coming. "Look, kid, maybe it would do you good to just get out of there for a while, okay? Stay with a relative or something."
"What are you talking about?" I responded, bewildered.
"You know, city life, it's not for everyone. It drives us all a little crazy sometimes. I know I love to go camping every now and again with the old lady. Once or twice a summer, get away from all this. It just gets your mind right."
I saw through his words, and I knew that he could read on my face that I wasn't accepting them. "Tell me what's wrong with 402." Mike sat back in his chair and let out a deep sigh.
"I don't know." He said that like it was an answer. But he continued before I could press him. "I wish I knew. It's just one of those things."
"It's just one of those things?" I repeated, immediately put off by his tone.
"Okay… I don't really like to talk about it. I try not to. I find that's best…" he paused, took a few seconds to find the words, then continued. "People don't do well in 402. Meaning they get scared and they leave or… you know, whatever. I don't know what it is, and I'm not a superstitious type. There's just something wrong with it. That's all I can say." He explained. His body language changed, I saw him begin to fidget with his hands.
"Did anything happen in that room?" I questioned.
He took another big sigh. "A lot of calls to the police, like yesterday, thinking there's an intruder. A man in the closet. A man under the bed. Things like that. Spookhouse things. That's how it started. It all sounded like nonsense. Of course, police find nothing every time. We get the place tested for a gas leak or what have you. Nada. So we carry on. What more can I do, right?"
A shockwave shot through me as he said all this. I was stunned. This was the first kind of confirmation I had gotten about any of this. It's all real. All of it. It's not just me.
He continued, "Then things start getting worse. People started doing things to themselves. You know what I mean? They started… carving themselves up. Paramedics would be in and out. It was getting really bad. Sarah, my wife, she cleans the rooms up for new tenants. They were in and out of 402 all the time, so she was in there a lot. One day she tells me she can't go in there anymore. I ask why, she says because something is watching her. She says it ‘knows her'. She says something terrible is going to happen in there. I don't know what to make of that. But she never went into 402 again. She doesn't even like going near the door because she thinks there's someone at the peephole. Then… there was the disappearance… that girl went missing. You heard about that, right?"
I was ashamed to admit that I didn't. Maybe it came up… maybe at one point I was told… but it was long since forgotten.
"They presumed her dead. Never found her. I knew… I knew it had something to do with the room, so I closed it for good. Nobody in or out unless absolutely necessary."
I didn't know what to say. I was horrified. What must all of these people have seen? I shuddered to think. But also… I still had questions. This sounded right, but there were glaring inconsistencies. I had to keep prodding.
"How did you get the police to go along with that?" I asked first, attempting to remain composed.
"I didn't… they do their business, they're in and out quick. They never find anything, and they don't really ask. It's the city."
"No but… they didn't go inside the room last night. Why didn't they go in?"
Mike shot me a confused look. "They DID go in. They went in, they searched, they found nothing like they always do. New guys, its been a few years, but none of them do."
I was getting frustrated again. Things weren't lining up.
"Why are you lying? Why lie about this? I know they didn't go in. I would have heard them if they went in, I hear EVERYTHING that happens in there. And you clearly didn't close the room because you rented it out. It's occupied, right now. And Jane said you told her about previous tenants when she moved in, so there were people even before her."
Mike's expression completely dropped. "You think someone lives there right now?"
"Yes. Someone lives there. Don't lie to me." I asserted.
"No one has lived there for eight years. I promise you." He said coldly.
I was boiling over. I lost my composure entirely. "Someone lives there! Jane lives there! We both know damn well she does. I've spoken to her almost every day since she moved in. I've heard her cook, I've heard her clean, I've heard her shitty music. She's my friend, and she's in danger living in this fucking room and you just let her go on in for what? Your bottom line? You really needed that extra rent money? What, for your camping trips?"
Mike raised his voice to match mine, "Listen buddy, I don't know what to tell you. Nobody lives in that fucking room. I won't allow it. You wanna go see for yourself? Here-" Mike rummaged around his desk and threw a set of keys at me. "You have at it. Go have a look. It's an empty fucking room. And after you see that it's an empty room, do the smart thing – don't stick around. Don't go inside. Lock it back up, then pack your shit and get out because your room isn't safe anymore."
I was stunned. I was angry. I was confused, and slightly ashamed. I had no more to say, so I turned to leave, but then he spoke up one more time.
"Oh and by the way, you really are shit with names because ‘Jane'? That's the name of the girl who went missing. Jane Lewis."
My whole body went numb as I walked out. This couldn't be the truth. I couldn't have been talking to a dead person this whole time. I had guessed that this thing was using her voice somehow, but that was only at night. It can't have all been fake. Jane was my friend. I couldn't believe it. I refused to believe it. That walk up to my floor was the longest of my life.
I approached 402 with the key in my hand. I stopped in front of the door. I stood for what felt like hours. I just… couldn't bring myself to do it. Not right now. The thought of opening that door even for a moment, especially at night, was far too horrifying. I had to sit down and collect myself. I went inside my apartment and immediately sat on my bed. I wanted to cry. This was all too much. But all I could do was sit and shiver in silence until-
Knock knock.
I didn't have time to be startled, as a familiar voice immediately accompanied the knocks.
"Hey. I'm back. I stayed an extra night. I bet you loved the peace and quiet. Anything happen? You didn't call so I'm hoping we're all good, you gave me quite a scare."
Jane… in her normal, casual, optimistic Jane voice. I wanted to be able to trust her so badly. I needed a friend right now. And she made it so easy to trust her.
So easy…
How do I talk to her… it… what could I say? I couldn't find the words.
"You there?" She asked calmly.
"Your number… it said it was out of service." I muttered, weakly.
"Really? What the hell? Are you sure you typed it in right?"
"Yeah I'm sure." I couldn't put any energy behind my voice.
"Are you okay? What happened?" She responded, sounding genuinely concerned.
"You know, don't you?"
"Know what?"
"You're part of it. You're this thing."
"What are you talking about? Leigh, you're not making sense."
"Is your name really Jane?"
"Well, yeah. Obviously. Why wouldn't it be?"
"Jane Lewis?"
The wall fell silent for a moment.
"What the hell. Are you looking me up or something? That's messed up." Jane said, sounding shaken.
"Maybe I should look you up. Maybe I should. Since you're dead."
"What the f-. Leigh you're scaring the shit out of me, okay. I think you need some help."
I lost my composure again, "You're dead! You died! Jane Lewis died so who the fuck are you and why are you doing this to me!?"
"I'm not dead! Why are you saying I'm dead!?" she shouted.
She sounded so convincing… maybe she genuinely didn't know she was dead. Or maybe this was another trick.
"Your apartment is vacant. Nobody has lived there for eight years. It's empty. You aren't real."
I heard her laugh. That kind of exasperated laugh when you hear something so ridiculous your brain has trouble processing it. It was a very human-like response.
"Leigh. That's not true. I don't know who's telling you this shit, but it's not true. I can assure you. I am real. I signed a lease. I have a fucking parking spot. I just went to see my sister and my nephew. We played Mario Kart and ate pizza. Pretty sure I wasn't a ghost to them… listen to yourself. You're in your own head. I am real. I am your friend. At least I'm trying to be." Her voice began to crack at the end. I could almost hear the tears welling up.
I couldn't hold it in any longer. I began to cry. She was trying to pull me back to a reality I had drifted so far from. God, I wanted everything she said to be true. Across the wall I could hear a few quiet sobs. It was so… real. It had to be real.
"You're really scaring me. If this is a game, please just stop. It's sick. I'll leave. I'll pack my shit and I'll leave, just please stop." My heart broke. I never wanted this. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry Jane. I don't know what's happening with me. Nothing makes sense. The building manager told me all this shit and I don't know what's real anymore. I – I need help."
I almost let it all go. I almost convinced myself that I had totally lost it and it was all in my head. It would have been so easy. All the pieces would fit together if none of it was real… but I had one more idea.
I have a phone. Like I said to her, maybe I should look her up. If she went missing there would be reports. All I have to do is type in her name.
Jane Lewis… plus the name of the city… enter.
My heart sank further than I thought it could. There she was. The article came up immediately, and I saw her face for the first time… but I didn't think she was lying, not on purpose anyway. Those tears couldn't be fake. I refuse to believe it. She… really doesn't know. She's still stuck in that room… thinking she's alive.
I looked at her picture for a while… so different from the ones my mind conjured up when we spoke. But her face fit her voice and personality like a glove. It radiated positive energy. The image of her in my mind was replaced with this new one instantaneously. Something about being able to attach the voice to the face made me trust her ten times more. I knew this was really her, in some form. I wasn't being tricked. I was certain.
I didn't know if I should tell her that she was dead. A part of me thought there wouldn't be a point. There's no way she would believe me. But… I felt like I had to. No more secrets. I needed this all out in the open. Whatever happens.
"Jane…" I said hesitantly. "I looked you up. I'm looking at the article right now."
"Leigh please…" she begged. I continued and began reading the article aloud.
"Jane Adrienne Lewis, 26. Last seen October 12th, 2015. Reported missing October 14th, 2015. Declared dead October 14th, 2022. Multiple searches turned up no leads. The initial suspect, ex-boyfriend Devon Aaronson, whom had at the time been serving a restraining order from Jane, was exonerated. Her sister Carrie and mother Lynn continue to urge the public to come forward with any information they may have." I recited coldly, trying not to break. "Jane was loved by her family, friends, and community – and is described as a kind soul, funny, passionate, and selfless. Her entrepreneurial spirit led her to start up multiple small businesses, dating all the way back to eight years old when she would make and sell beaded bracelets and homemade baked goods to her classmates. Her mother, Lynn, quotes-" I stopped myself. This was a lot to throw at her, and I think she got the point.
She was silent for a minute, and then she spoke "October 12th, 2015."
"Yes. Eight years ago, last month. That was the last time you were seen."
"Eight years ago…"
"Yeah."
"October 12th, 2015 is today." She said. "You're telling me I go missing today."
Everything turned upside down once again… I stammered; words struggled to form. She was living out her final days all over again somehow…
"Nobody remembers the stupid bracelets… only my mom remembers that shit." She continued.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not true. You're sick. You've been stalking me. Gathering all this information, what the fuck do you want??" She screamed.
"There's a video… can I play it for you?"
She went silent. I took that as a yes. I turned the volume up, held the phone to the wall, and hit play on the embedded video. An older woman and a younger woman stood together in front of microphones on the front lawn of a small house. I could only assume her mom and her sister. She wouldn't accept it from me, maybe she would accept it from them.
Her mom didn't get through two sentences before I heard the most horrific sound I had ever heard coming from the other side of the wall. It sounded like all the air was sucked out of her while at the same time she screamed and wailed. It was like the scream I heard the day before. All she could say was "No." over and over again. I heard her rocking back and forth on the bed.
It hit. She believed.
"I'm sorry!" I cried. But all I could do was wait and listen to her violent sobbing. Her awful cries. I couldn't imagine what she must be going through.
After a few minutes the crying stopped and she spoke through her sniffles, "Read me more. There has to be more."
I obliged and continued skimming the article. The words "an early prominent lead" jumped out at me and I read the paragraph out loud. "Jane's older sister told police about conversations the two had the day prior to her disappearance. Jane talked about making friends with a neighbor named Lee…" I paused. The last thing I expected was my name to appear in this, albeit spelled wrong. My heart began to pound, and I continued.
"…whom she claimed she could hear through the unit's wall. However, when police searched, they found nobody by that name living in the building and weren't able to find any evidence of this mysterious Lee."
"What the fuck?" Jane said, echoing my sentiments.
"You're… you're alive. I'm really talking to YOU, eight years ago." I surmised. It was the only way that could make sense.
"I've been trying to tell you I'm fucking alive!"
"Wait… maybe that means I can help you. You're supposed to die today… but maybe I can save you."
"Okay, how?"
I thought about it for a second and the most obvious answer popped into my mind. "Get out. Get out of the room. Now. It's in the room. You have to leave."
"What do you mean it's in the room?"
"It's 402. Something bad is in 402. I hear it at night. You have to go, right now. Stay with your sister."
"Okay… okay I'm going." She said frantically. I heard the bed shift as she began making her way off, then I heard something else.
"WAIT." I shouted. "Don't move."
"What? Why?"
"Don't step off the bed. Stay on the bed."
"Why!?"
"…it's breathing. I can hear it. It's under your bed." I softened my voice to a whisper. Even though I didn't think it would do any good.
"…I can't hear anything."
"It's there. It's waiting. Don't set your foot off."
"What do I do?"
"I don't know. I don't know. Just wait."
"I don't want to die."
"You won't! We'll figure this out." I paced around the apartment, frantically trying to put the pieces together to try and find some answer. Some way I could save her. Then something struck me… "I don't want to die." she said that to me last night. When she wasn't here. It was the same words, said in the same way. Like her scream was the same scream. It wasn't this thing mimicking her, it was HER.
"I heard you when you weren't here. How did I hear you when you weren't here? How did I hear you say something before you said it?" I asked, in desperate confusion.
"I don't know… I don't know…" She repeated.
"You said those exact words before… the exact same way… it was you… I thought maybe it was using your voice, but it was you, now. I… I don't understand. I don't know, Jane. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. This doesn't make any sense."
"Time…" she said, in a softer voice.
"What?"
"I read this book a little while ago… it was a poetry book." It sounded like she was just talking to calm herself down. Saying anything, thinking about anything, just going back to a happy place. Anything to cope. It seemed like something she had to learn how to do. I let her continue while I searched my own mind for answers.
"One of the poems was about time. About how life is a cup and time is water being slowly poured into the cup. I can't remember exactly how it went, but the stream of water is your present, and it all collects and fills up to become your past." She said. I heard her lay back on her bed. I pictured her staring at the ceiling. Fingers interlocked. Scared out of her mind but trying her best to talk her way out of it.
"I never heard that one." I replied.
"It always feels like we're going somewhere because we're in the middle of the pour. But when you look at the past, it's all in the same place. You can take a sip from any of it. I always liked that analogy for some reason. Maybe when we see ghosts it's just time spilling. Out of their glass, out into the world for all to see. Maybe that's why we see them most at night. It's easy to spill things when it's dark…" Her voice slowly grew calmer. I listened, fearing deep down that this might be the last time I hear it.
She kept going, "I don't think I spilled. Maybe a little bit, in the dark; maybe that's what you were hearing. But I think I poured my time out. To you. I mixed up our glasses. Because I needed to."
Maybe she was right. There's no way of knowing, but it is a nice thought. We mixed our time. I pictured a plain milkshake in a blender, but with a little chocolate swirl cascading into the center.
"Or maybe I just threw my whole glass at the fucking wall." She said, chuckling faintly. I smiled. That would do it.
"The thing in that room… maybe it spilled too. Spilled over here from some place else." I surmised.
The wall went silent. It was silent for a long time. Too long.
Then the creak. The creak I had become so familiar with. She sat up…
"Jane!" I shouted.
"I see it." Her breath was shaky. Her words were weak. "It's with me now."
"Get out of there! Run! Just run!" I shouted.
"I can't… I can't move… please help me, Leigh. Please." She begged.
I couldn't take any more. I couldn't think any more. I took the keys Mike gave me, I grabbed a big kitchen knife, and I stormed out of the apartment as fast as I could. I didn't know what I would do or what I could do. I just had to get to her.
Without hesitation, I plunged the key into the lock of 402 and burst through the door, letting it slowly close behind me. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I took in what I saw in the brief moments when the room was illuminated by the hallway light, and it was everything Mike said it was. Empty. Completely empty. Unkempt and unclean. The dust was thick. There was absolutely no mistaking the fact that this place was abandoned. Now though, with the door closed, all of those details were replaced by a thick blanket of darkness. So dark. Darker than my apartment ever was. I tried the lights and they didn't come on.
"Jane!" I shouted again as I walked further into the blackness, but there was no response. She wasn't here… but she was. She was on her bed, helpless, staring at something that was about to kill her. That was happening 8 years ago but it was happening right now. I just couldn't see it. There wasn't even a bed here anymore. I stood right where it should be and there was nothing.
"Please answer me Jane!" I should be able to hear her, I thought. I tried to even just feel her presence somehow, but I couldn't feel anything except dread. Was I too late? I called out to her again and again. Nothing. I turned my attention to her tormenter.
"Leave her alone! What are you!? Show yourself!" What the fuck was I saying? The adrenaline was too high, I didn't even fully realise the scope of the shit I was in, but it was beginning to dawn on me. This thing… it killed Jane. It torments people. It "carves them up." And I just walked right into its mouth.
I liked Jane's theory about time, but maybe it was this thing that did it. It mixed up our time, it put us together, to lure me over here. 8 years without a victim and it was starving. It knew we would connect; it knew I would come to save her. It got me right where it wanted me.
In my adrenaline-fueled haze, I walked far away from the door without even realizing it. I was on the other side of the room. I could make a run for it, but I froze. The soundproofing panels were gone, but the place was just as silent. The intense dark made my vision fuzzy and grainy. Dark spots and subtle shapes manifested and dissipated, tricking my eyes. I tried to scan the room. All I could really make out was some of the basic geometry. The only light was an inch tall line coming from under the front door.
It could be hiding in any one of these pitch black corners. Standing there, watching me hyperventilate. There was a sliding closet door next to the front door. Very slightly open. Mike said something about people seeing it in the closet. I could imagine its eye peeking out. Maybe that's where it hid in the daytime, watching Jane, and listening to us.
Something moved above me. I looked to the ceiling but saw only black. It could be up there too. Sprawled out on the ceiling like some kind of spider, looking down at me, waiting to pounce. I wouldn't know.
More movement in the far corners of my periphery. I turned to face it out of instinct, and was again met with the void. I wanted to think it was all a trick of my eyes, but I knew better.
I told my body to run. It was time to run. My body didn't want to move, but I had no choice. I couldn't stay here. As much as it killed me, I was quickly realizing there was no saving Jane. There never was. I was still as powerless as I had been this entire time. So I had to go. Now.
Then I heard it.
Creak.
The floorboard, right in front of the door I was so anxious to get to. I turned and looked towards the door and… I saw it… the line of light under the door was now broken by two dark pillars… it was standing right there.
It was too dark to make out any other features, or maybe it didn't have any. All I could make out was a shadow amongst the shadows. The vaguest confirmation of a form.
My legs fell out from under me and I came down hard. I kicked my feet and crawled back against the furthest corner. I didn't take my eyes off of it. I didn't dare to even blink.
It didn't move. After moment the floorboards began to creak subtly again… and again. But it still wasn't moving. It sounded like it was only slightly shifting its weight from one foot to the other and back again. It was… swaying.
I really was trapped now. It wasn't going to let me get to the door. I put my hands on the wall behind me to help me push myself back up. One of my hands touched something wet.
The wall was damp, and squishy. Instinctually I looked to see what I was touching, and my eyes were able to adjust enough to make out that it was mold. A ton of mold, coating several feet of the wall. I recoiled in disgust, but it quickly all started to add up.
This mold was exactly where the mold in my apartment was. It was the same mold, on both sides… the guys who replaced my drywall, they never looked on the other side… but now that I thought about it, the day after they opened my wall was the day this all started. Opening the wall opened the threshold, that's how it must have found me.
These revelations ripped through my mind within a few seconds, but the ultimate realization was that I took my eyes off of it. I quickly turned back.
The line of light was unbroken again. It moved. It could be anywhere now. It was toying with me like it toyed with all the others.
I began to feel my feet go numb. Just like how Jane's did. I couldn't make a run for it anymore. This was it, it was coming for me.
In my desperation, I took my knife and jammed it into the moldy wall. It slid in, so I stabbed it again and again and again, then I dropped the knife and forced my hands inside. Pulling and ripping and tearing at the decay. Some parts tore away easy, others were still rough and hard.
Amidst the crumbling and the squishing sounds of the wall being pulled apart and the sounds of my own struggling, the creaks began again. Coming closer now.
The tips of my fingers screamed in pain, my fingernails bent and broke as drywall lodged itself behind them, but I continued tearing at it with everything I had. It felt like I had an extra pair of hands. The creaks got closer; the numbness crept up my legs. The breathing I heard time and time again I could now feel on the back of my neck. Then… that awful sound of teeth chattering inches away from my ear.
Eventually, the hole was big enough for me to crawl into, and I hoisted myself inside with every bit of strength I had left. My body barely fit between the drywall and the solid concrete, I squeezed in as best as I could. I knew this wasn't an escape. This was just the only thing I could do. Maybe this would be far enough outside of its physical domain. Sound could travel past the wall but maybe it couldn't. It was a stretch, but it's all I had.
It was pitch black in here. I couldn't even see myself. I was at the whim of the warbling fuzz of my own retinas… It stopped moving but it continued to breathe, right next to my ear. Maybe I was right and it couldn't get inside.
Time passed… the breathing faded. My heart rate began to slow and the intense pain in my hands crept to the surface. I didn't know how long it had been but it felt like ages. At this point I was waiting for the sun to come up, but instead it stayed pitch black.
I finally decided to take a peek outside of the hole just to see a glimpse of that line of light again. I reached my hand toward the edge of the hole to pull myself towards it but… I couldn't find it. I ran my hand along the whole surface… I couldn't find the hole. It was gone. It was like it was never there. The wall was perfectly smooth and solid.
I began to hyperventilate again. Then I began to scream. I screamed for help until my throat went coarse. I hit the wall as hard as I could over and over and it wouldn't budge. I couldn't see the blood but I felt it trickle down my knuckles. I managed to dislodge a wooden stud but that offered no help.
I fought until I had no more fight left in me. Then I sat back, staring into the blackness once again – defeated. Only there was something different this time. I could only describe it as something darker than pitch black. A little fuzzy orb of it, floating past the wooden stud that I broke off. I pulled myself closer and my eyes very slowly began to adjust.
It wasn't an orb, I began to discover. It was three orbs, arranged in an inverted triangle. I pulled myself closer again… no, not orbs, they were holes. I couldn't fully make it out until I was a mere foot away from it, then I gasped in horror. A face. Sunken black holes for the eyes and mouth. Withered and shrouded in a veil of cobwebs. I could barely make out the rest of the body. Slumped over and sitting like I was, decayed to bones.
There she was. The veiled woman… but not just the veiled woman… it was Jane… she was here all this time. It probably tricked her into the wall the same way it tricked me. Tears welled up immediately and turned to frantic sobs.
"No, Jane… please, no. I thought I could save you. Please don't be gone." I knew she was dead, but actually seeing her like this broke me beyond repair. It sunk in now. That last glimmer of hope I had was gone. My friend is dead, and she died afraid.
"You can't be gone. Tell me one of your jokes. You're supposed to tell me them every day. You can't miss a day. You have to. Please."
I was hysterical. Thinking about her scared and alone and trapped for god knows how long. Never being found. It shattered me over and over. I couldn't save her… I couldn't reassure her… I couldn't make things better… I couldn't say goodbye… I couldn't even bring her or her family closure because I was going die in this place too, and neither of us would ever be found.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Give me more time. Spill me more time. Just a little more." I begged. But nothing happened.
The next few hours were agony. Staring at the empty, decomposed husk of the girl I failed. Replaying every single decision I made. Thinking about how I could have done it differently. I was always too late. Always one step behind. Too scared. Too uncertain. I always knew I was like this, I always have been, but I didn't think it mattered. I figured the only life I could ruin was my own.
I began doing our knocks on the wall. Over and over. Hoping maybe she would hear it, somewhere, sometime. Maybe it would reach her at a time when she needed to know someone was still with her. That's probably not how it worked but it's all I had left.
I was hungry. Dehydrated. My lips were sticking together. My vision got even spottier. Occasionally I would sleep, as much as I could. I tried to move my arms and my body every now and then to stop them from becoming completely stiff, but they hurt like hell. Two days passed. I continued knocking.
I was in a haze when I saw an axe crash through the wall. Bringing with it a beam of blinding light. It crashed through several more times. The light scorched my eyes. I heard a voice, and yelling, but I couldn't discern it. Before long I was being pulled out of the wall. The pain in my muscles was unbearable.
My eyes wouldn't focus, and my brain wouldn't unscramble, but I could think just enough to repeat "Jane is in there" as I was dragged away, before I completely lost consciousness.
I awoke in a hospital room. Once again blinded by all the light, but my eyes eventually focused on Mike. He told me he regretted giving me the key to 402 and came to check on me, when he saw the key still in the lock. That's when he heard me knocking, and he got me out. I told him I was grateful, and that I was sorry.
The police and the paramedics came and collected Jane's body. Mike told me what story to use to explain what happened. Say I heard some rats and took it upon myself to set traps in the wall when I got stuck and found Jane. It worked well enough for them.
I got fired for missing work, which made me laugh, and it goes without saying that I had to find a new place to live. I went back to my apartment after I got discharged, gathered everything I could in about 20 minutes, and left. Right before I shut the door, I knocked twice on the wall one more time. Just because.
Jane's sister reached out to say thank you on behalf of her and her family. I wish I could tell them more, but there was no way. All I could do was wish them the best. I believe they're trying to sue Mike for criminal negligence.
I struggled to find a new place and a new job. I got fired a few times for being too inattentive or slow. I wasn't sleeping or eating. I had panic attacks and night terrors. I couldn't bear the dark, or the quiet… The things I saw I couldn't escape; but beyond the fear and the trauma, it was the guilt that was the worst. I saw her face everywhere. Her dead face haunted me while I slept, and her living face haunted me while I was awake. Neither face would ever forgive me.
I didn't have enough money to drink away the sorrow. I was forced to face it all, every day. Dating was off the table; I wouldn't subject someone else to myself in the state I was in. I thought long and hard about giving up in those next few months. I got closer and closer to making that decision. I started stockpiling prescription pills and drafting final letters. I only felt more and more ready as the days passed. But, on the day I chose, and the time I chose…
I heard two knocks on my wall.
Written by RainMakerWindWaker
Content is available under CC BY-SA