CHAPTER SIX — DON'T LISTEN
1119 Words
For several long seconds, Mira couldn’t move. Her body felt locked in place, like fear had wrapped around her spine and squeezed hard enough to freeze her bones. She kept staring at the last frame on her phone—the empty room, frozen right after the figure disappeared from the camera’s view.
Her own apartment.
Her own space.
Her private, locked sanctuary.
And someone had been inside.
She forced air into her lungs. Move, she told herself. Don’t just stand here. Her legs trembled as she crossed the room, checking corners, checking behind the couch, checking under the table even though she knew the figure she had seen couldn’t hide somewhere so small.
She checked the bathroom, her heart pounding so hard she felt dizzy. Nothing. She checked the closet. Empty. She checked behind the shower curtain, half-expecting to see a shadowy outline waiting silently on the other side.
Nothing.
But the silence didn’t comfort her. The silence was worse. It hummed around her like something alive, something holding its breath and waiting for the right moment to speak again.
She grabbed her keys. She didn’t care what time it was. She needed someone. Anyone. She needed to not be alone.
She reached for the door—then froze.
What if the figure was still out there?
What if it was waiting?
She pressed her eye against the peephole. The hallway looked empty, lit by the flickering light overhead. But emptiness meant nothing in this building. She’d seen someone standing there before, then disappearing as if the walls had swallowed them.
She forced herself to breathe, unlocked the door, and stepped out quickly, shutting it behind her.
Her feet carried her downstairs before her mind caught up. She wasn’t even sure where she was going until she found herself in front of Mrs. Lewis’s door. She knocked gently.
No answer.
She knocked again, louder.
Still nothing.
“Mrs. Lewis?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “It’s Mira… please. I need help.”
Silence.
Her heart dropped.
She turned and walked to the next flight of stairs, heading for 3C—the tired man who had warned her earlier. She hesitated before knocking. What if he didn’t answer? What if he wasn’t there anymore? What if—
The door opened before she touched it.
He stood there, his eyes wide, as if he’d been expecting her. Or dreading her arrival.
“It started for you too, didn’t it?” he said in a low voice.
Mira’s throat tightened. “Someone was in my apartment.”
The man looked over her shoulder, down the hallway. “Come inside. Quickly.”
She stepped in, and he shut the door behind her, locking it with two deadbolts and sliding a metal bar across the base. The locks were scratched, dented, worn—like something had clawed at them before.
Mira swallowed. “What is going on?”
The man sat down heavily on his worn-out couch. “My name is Aaron,” he said, exhaling. “I’ve lived here for three years. I’ve seen things no one should see.”
“Like people disappearing?” Mira asked.
Aaron nodded slowly. “They don’t just disappear. They’re taken.”
“By who?” she whispered.
His voice dropped. “Not who. What.”
Mira felt cold from the inside out.
Aaron rubbed his face, exhausted. “This building… it listens. It learns. It reacts. Everyone who’s lived here long enough knows—once it notices you, once it decides you’re worth paying attention to—”
He stopped, unable to continue.
Mira leaned forward. “Aaron, something whispered to me. It asked… ‘Where is he?’ What does that mean?”
Aaron’s face drained of color. “You heard that?”
She nodded.
He stood up abruptly and started pacing. “It’s searching again,” he muttered. “It always searches. Every few months, it looks for someone. It fixates. Last time…” He shuddered. “Last time, it was Evan.”
Mira’s stomach dropped. “Evan Rhodes. From the missing-person flyer.”
Aaron nodded. “He lived here. Third floor. The apartment right under you. He was the last one it took.”
“Is he—?”
“Gone,” Aaron said quietly. “Like the others.”
Mira pressed a hand to her mouth. “Then why is it asking me where he is? Why me?”
Aaron turned toward her, his expression serious. “Because you listened.”
A chill ran down her spine. “Listened?”
“You pressed your ear to the wall, didn’t you?” he said softly. “That’s how it starts. The moment you listen back, it knows to keep talking to you.”
Mira felt sick. “I didn’t know—”
“No one does,” Aaron said. “It wants answers. It wants attention. And when you respond, even by accident…” He hesitated. “You become part of its search.”
Mira’s voice cracked. “Aaron, earlier… something was inside my apartment.”
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there were tears in them. “It doesn’t always stay in the walls,” he whispered.
Mira backed away from him, fear tightening around her like a rope.
“What do I do?” she whispered. “How do I stop it?”
Aaron shook his head. “You can’t stop it. You can only stay ahead of it.”
“How?”
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small device—an old tape recorder.
“Record everything,” Aaron said. “Never stop. The building hates recordings. It interferes with what it can’t control.”
Mira stared at him. “And if it gets worse?”
Aaron sucked in a shaky breath. “Then you run. Before it closes in.”
A sudden loud thud echoed from Aaron’s wall.
Both of them froze.
Another thud followed.
Then scraping.
The same scraping Mira had heard before.
Aaron rushed to turn off every light in the apartment, plunging the room into darkness.
He whispered, “Don’t speak. Don’t answer. Don’t move.”
The scraping grew louder, dragging slowly, deliberately along the wall.
Then…
A whisper seeped through the plaster like breath through smoke.
“Where… is… he…”
Mira gripped the edge of the couch, her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
Aaron leaned closer and whispered so faintly she barely heard him:
“It’s not asking you anymore.”
The scraping moved again—toward the door.
Toward them.
And in the dark, Mira realized something far worse—
The building wasn’t searching randomly.
It had found a trail.
And it was following it.
- Writer
