ROOM 1108

The first thing Aria Quinn learned about Blackwood Residences was that rich people hated inconvenience. The second she learned was that they hated each other. Nobody said it out loud, of course. People living in a building where the cheapest apartment cost more than her yearly salary preferred words like privacy, exclusivity, and discretion. Still, after spending only twenty minutes in the lobby, Aria had already watched three residents complain about things most people would consider blessings. One man complained because his driver was two minutes late. Another woman complained because the concierge had greeted her with "Good morning" instead of "Welcome back." A third resident complained because somebody else's dog had looked at Aria was still trying to understand how that was possible when the building manager sighed and closed a folder. "Welcome to Blackwood." Aria laughed. "You sound exhausted." "I've worked here twelve years." "That bad?" "By Friday you'll understand." The manager stood and extended his hand. "Harold Bennett." "Aria Quinn." They shook. Harold looked to be around sixty. Thin. Neatly dressed. The kind of man who seemed permanently tired from seeing too much. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you around." Aria grabbed her backpack and followed him. She still couldn't believe she was here. Two weeks ago she had been staring at overdue bills while eating instant noodles for the fourth night in a row. Then she'd found an online job listing. Live-in caretaker. Blackwood Residences. Housing included. Salary included. Benefits included. The pay had looked suspiciously generous. Now she knew why. Nobody should have to listen to rich people complain professionally. They entered an elevator. Harold pressed a button. The doors slid shut. For the first few seconds neither of them spoke. Then Harold cleared his throat. "There is one rule." Aria immediately smiled. "There it is." "There what is?" "The creepy rule." Harold blinked. "The creepy rule?" "Every job like this has one." He stared. She grinned. "Old horror movies taught me that." To her surprise, Harold didn't laugh. His expression remained serious. He looked disappointed. "Actually," he said quietly. "This one does." The smile slipped from Aria's face. "Oh." The elevator continued climbing. Third floor. Fourth. Fifth. Harold kept his eyes on the numbers above the door. "Room 1108." Something about the way he said it made her straighten a bit. "What about it? "Stay away from it." Aria waited. Harold said nothing else. "No explanation?" "No." "Why?" "Because that's the rule. She frowned. "That's not really an answer." "It's the only one you're getting." The elevator reached the eighth floor. The doors opened. Harold stepped out. Aria followed slowly. The conversation had left an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Curiosity. People always wanted what they weren't supposed to have. And now there was a room she wasn't supposed to enter. Her brain would obsess over that for days. They walked down a wide hallway lined with expensive artwork and soft lighting. The entire building looked like something from a luxury magazine. Even the carpet probably cost more than her car. Actually, her car barely ran. The carpet definitely cost more. "This floor is yours," Harold said. "My apartment too?" "Apartment 804." Her shoulders dropped with relief. Thank God. She'd secretly worried the caretaker apartment would be a converted closet. Instead, Harold unlocked a door and stepped aside. "Welcome home." Aria walked inside. Then stopped. "Oh." The apartment wasn't huge, but it was beautiful. Clean white walls, large windows, modern furniture. A kitchen bigger than the one she'd grown up in. And a view overlooking half the city. For a moment she simply stood there. Trying to process all of it. "Still think the salary is suspicious?" Harold asked. "A little." He laughed. The first genuine laugh she'd heard from him. "You'll settle in quickly." "I think I already have." Harold handed her a small ring of keys. "Master access." Aria looked down. There were a lot of keys. More than she expected. "These open maintenance rooms, utility closets, storage areas, and emergency access points." She nodded. Then noticed one key was different. It was older. Brass. "What's this one?" For the first time, Harold hesitated for a second. But she noticed. "Old master key." "Still works?" "Some doors." Interesting. Harold immediately changed the subject. "Get settled. Your shift officially starts tomorrow." "Easy enough." He nodded. Then headed toward the door. Before leaving, he paused. His hand rested on the frame. "One more thing." Aria raised an eyebrow. Harold met her gaze. "Stay away from Room 1108." Then he left. Aria stood alone in her new apartment. Staring at the keys. Especially the old brass one. By seven o'clock that evening, she'd unpacked half her belongings. Soon after, she was terribly bored. The apartment was too quiet. No traffic. No loud neighbors. No television through paper-thin walls, only expensive silence. The kind rich people apparently paid for. Aria sat on her couch and checked her phone. Three messages had dropped in. One from her landlord asking for money she no longer owed. One from an old classmate trying to sell skincare products. One from her best friend, Mia… MIA: Tell me everything. ARIA: Building is fancy. MIA: Useful. ARIA: Residents are insane. MIA: More useful. ARIA: Manager gave me a creepy warning. MIA: There it is. ARIA: How did you know? MIA: Every mystery starts with a creepy warning. Aria laughed. Then typed: ARIA: He told me to stay away from Room 1108. Three dots appeared instantly. MIA: Go into Room 1108. ARIA: Absolutely not. MIA: You're going into Room 1108. ARIA: I'm not. MIA: You're curious already. ARIA: … MIA: Exactly. Aria threw her phone onto the couch. Because Mia was right, she was curious. At 10:14 p.m., she heard the noise. A thud. It was soft. Somewhere above her. Aria looked up. Another thud followed, Then silence came next. She frowned. The building manager had mentioned a mostly empty upper floor undergoing renovations. Maybe workers had forgotten something. Or probably security moving furniture. Maybe… Another sound interrupted her thoughts. A scrape. Like a chair moving across hardwood. Slowly.Deliberately. Aria sat upright. The noise came from directly above. She checked the building map Harold had given her earlier. Apartment 804. Directly above? Room 1108. Her stomach frowned. That was impossible. Harold said it was empty. Didn't he? A few seconds passed when she heard another sound. This time it was unmistakable. She could hear footsteps. Someone was walking around upstairs. Aria stared at the ceiling trying to listen. It suddenly became silent. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe… A loud bang echoed overhead. Aria jumped to her feet. "Okay," she muttered. "Somebody's definitely up there." Ten minutes later she found herself standing in an elevator. Heading toward the eleventh floor which was an absolutely terrible idea, yet here she was. Curiosity had always been her worst habit. The elevator doors opened. The hallway beyond looked different from the others. It was darker. Half the lights were turned off, The air felt colder. Aria stepped out slowly, unconsciously investigating the hallway that stretched ahead. Room 1101. Room 1102. Room 1103. She continued past the rooms, her footsteps echoed softly. Everything felt strangely still. One door stood out at the very end of the hallway, it was made of dark wood, Silver numbers. Aria approached slowly. She stopped in front of the door. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe… A shadow moved beneath the door, Aria froze. She had definitely seen that, Someone was inside. Her mouth went dry. The smart thing would be pretending she'd never come up here. Instead, she reached into her pocket, pulled out the key ring and stared at the old brass key for one long moment and slid it into the lock. "Click", echoed through the hallway. Aria gasped in astonishment. The key worked. Slowly, she pushed the door open. The apartment beyond was dark. Only a small lamp glowed somewhere deeper inside. She stepped forward. The door creaked softly behind her. "Hello?" But she got no response. The room smelled faintly of coffee and old books. That was strange for a supposed empty apartment. Aria moved farther inside. Her eyes adjusted gradually. There was a couch, bookshelf and a dining table. Everything looked like someone lived in it. Someone clearly occupied the apartment, which raised an even bigger question. Why had everyone lied? Then she saw him. A man sitting in an armchair near the lamp reading. He was completely calm. As if he'd expected her arrival all evening. He looked to be around thirty. Dark hair. Sharp features. A black sweater. One hand resting casually on an open book, He didn't seem surprised. He didn't jump or ask who she was. He simply turned a page. Finished reading a line and closed the book slowly. Aria couldn't move. The man finally lifted his eyes. And looked directly at her. "You took longer than I expected." The words hit her like a splash of cold water. She stared in surprise, unable to speak. The stranger set the book aside. Then something even stranger happened. He smiled at her like they were old friends meeting again. As if he'd been waiting for her. "Hello, Aria." The smile vanished from her face. She had never seen this man before in her life. Yet somehow, he already knew her name.