CHAPTER FOUR — THE DISAPPEARED
811 Words
For the rest of the day, Mira couldn’t shake Mrs. Lewis’s warning from her mind. It hears things. The words replayed in her head over and over, like a haunting echo she couldn’t silence. By late afternoon, she had checked every corner of her apartment twice, even inside the bathroom cabinet and behind the fridge—anywhere something or someone could hide. Everything was normal. Too normal.
But the tapping had stopped.
That almost made it worse.
It was like the building was holding its breath.
By evening, Mira decided she needed air. Real air. From outside, where sunlight touched walls and people walked freely and did not whisper warnings about midnight knocks.
She grabbed her keys and headed down the stairs. The building felt emptier than usual. Each step creaked under her weight, breaking the stillness like she was trespassing in a place that didn’t want her there.
As she passed the second floor, she noticed a cracked door—Apartment 2A—opened just enough to show darkness inside. Mira slowed. She hadn’t seen anyone come or go from that unit since she arrived. She leaned closer, listening.
Nothing.
She hurried downstairs. At the entrance, she saw the building manager’s office again. The door was still locked, the sign still crooked. A new layer of dust had gathered on the doorknob.
Mira frowned. Does this man even exist?
Outside, the street was fresh and bright, almost mocking her for how tense she felt. Cars passed. Kids laughed somewhere down the block. A woman walked her dog. It felt like another world—one that didn’t include warning notes or vanishing neighbors.
After grabbing groceries and forcing herself to enjoy the walk, she returned just before sunset.
That was when she noticed something new taped to the notice board beside the mailboxes. A missing-person flyer.
Her stomach dropped.
A man she hadn’t seen before, maybe in his late twenties, smiled stiffly in the photograph. The name under it read:
Evan Rhodes — Last seen: Apartment building on Brookline Street.
Date missing: Three weeks ago.
Mira stared at the picture, her heartbeat rising. Three weeks. Around the time the previous tenant of her unit had moved out. Had he left voluntarily… or…
She suddenly felt eyes on her.
She turned.
Mrs. Lewis stood at the end of the hall, watching her silently.
“You shouldn’t look at that,” she said, her voice unusually soft.
“Why?” Mira asked.
Mrs. Lewis stepped closer. “Because people disappear all the time. The flyers don’t help. Nobody ever finds them.”
Mira swallowed. “Do you think something happened to him here?”
Mrs. Lewis didn’t answer. Instead, she touched Mira’s arm. Her fingers were ice cold.
“Don’t let the building learn your routine,” she said quietly. “And don’t stay here too long.”
Then she walked away, leaving Mira trembling in the hallway.
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That night, Mira couldn’t stop thinking about Evan Rhodes. Sitting on her couch, she Googled his name, scrolling through small blogs and missing-person forums. One article mentioned a witness who had allegedly heard “scraping noises” the night Evan vanished.
Scraping.
Just like her walls.
Her throat tightened.
Suddenly, the lamp beside her flickered. Once. Twice. Then the entire apartment dimmed for a second before returning to normal.
“Not again,” she whispered.
A moment later, a soft thud sounded from somewhere in the apartment. Mira stood up slowly. The sound had come from the hallway—just beyond her front door.
She stepped closer.
A shadow moved underneath the gap of her door. Just a brief flash—like someone had walked past.
Her breath shook.
She waited. The building went silent again.
She placed her eye against the peephole cautiously.
At first, she saw nothing.
Then, from the corner of her view, someone appeared.
A figure standing perfectly still at the far end of the hallway. Not moving. Not turning. Just… standing.
Mira froze, afraid to blink.
The figure slowly raised an arm. Slow, deliberate. And with one finger, it pressed against its own lips.
Shhhh.
Mira stepped back, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
A second later, the lights in the hallway went out completely, plunging everything beyond her door into darkness.
She stumbled backward, reaching for her phone. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it.
She waited—seconds, minutes, she couldn’t tell.
No tapping.
No footsteps.
No voice.
Just thick, suffocating silence.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the hallway light flickered back on.
Mira forced herself to look through the peephole again.
This time, the hallway was empty.
No figure.
No shadow.
Only the stillness of a building that seemed to be listening.
And for the first time since arriving, Mira wondered if leaving was even an option anymore.
- Writer
