Chapter 2

That access panel definitely moved. Like something had nudged it from above, revealing a pitch-black crack.

An indescribable stench wafted out from the gap. Sour, reeking of urine, and that smell of unwashed bodies caked in grime. The smell of a homeless person.

He was watching me. He knew I'd discovered the door wouldn't open. He was waiting for me to panic, waiting for me to scream, then savoring my fear like a cat toying with a mouse.

Every hair on my body stood on end. My fingers dug into my palms, forcing myself to stay calm.

I couldn't scream. In this godforsaken place where no one would hear me, screaming would only hasten my death.

I took a deep breath, pretending I just needed to use the bathroom. I turned toward the bathroom, deliberately making my footsteps heavier.

"This damn door, I'll have to get the agent to fix it tomorrow."

I muttered to myself—not loudly, but loud enough for the thing above to hear.

I entered the bathroom and quickly locked the door. The window here faced the hallway, but it had security bars—no way to squeeze through.

The only exit was still the front door. Since I couldn't open it from inside, I'd have to wait for someone to open it from outside. Or... lure someone here.

I pulled out my phone with trembling hands and opened SnapChat to message that seemingly helpful agent—let's call him Mike. This guy's eyes always drifted to my chest when we talked, and he spoke like a creep, but at least he worked for a legitimate agency. He probably wouldn't dare murder someone openly.

"Hey, the front door won't open. I need to go out for something urgent."

I sent the message. No reply.

I tried a FaceTime call. It rang twice, then was declined.

Immediately, a text message popped up.

"Girl, why go out so late? Door's broken, I'll get someone to fix it tomorrow. Just sleep tight. The building's security is great."

Great security? This run-down place didn't even have working streetlights. What security?

And how did he know I wanted to go out just now? How did he reply so fast?

Unless... he was nearby.

A deeper chill ran down my spine.

I remembered a detail from my previous life. When that homeless man was strangling me, I'd heard sounds near the front door. Like keys turning.

Could this whole thing be a setup? The agent bringing in tenants, the property manager collecting rent, and the homeless man... handling the cleanup?

No, impossible. If it were that organized, this criminal operation would've been busted long ago.

More likely, the agent knew something was off here but turned a blind eye to collect his commission. He might even be using this homeless man to scare off tenants, keeping their security deposits.

I gripped my phone, knuckles white. If you're going to be ruthless, don't blame me for fighting back.

I opened the dial pad and pressed 911.

Before I could make the call, the bathroom light flickered twice.

It went out.

The world plunged into darkness.

Then I heard that familiar scratching sound from overhead. Not in the hallway—in the bathroom ceiling.

Those aluminum panel ceilings couldn't support a person's full weight. But he didn't need to support his full weight. He only needed to push those panels aside.

Click. The sound of the first panel being lifted.

In that moment, I could almost feel hot breath on my scalp.

I didn't dare look up. I yanked the bathroom door open and rushed out. Better to take my chances in the living room than be trapped like a rat in that tiny bathroom.

I ran back to my room and slammed the door shut, pressing my body against it with all my weight. I was already gripping that fruit knife, blade pointed at the door.

But I knew this door wouldn't stop him. That cheap ball lock could be popped open with a credit card from outside. Besides, he didn't even need to use the door. That ventilation window.

I whipped my head around. The ventilation window looked the same—a black void. But I knew he was crawling through the ceiling crawlspace, like a giant gecko, heading toward my room.

I had to find a way to save myself.

Besides this door, there was no other exit from this room. The window faced the air shaft—jumping down meant certain death or crippling injury.

Wait.

This apartment had partition walls. To squeeze out more rooms, all the walls were just steel studs covered with drywall. These walls had terrible soundproofing, but that also meant... they were fragile.

My room was right next to Room B. If I could smash through this wall and escape into the adjacent room...

As long as there was someone in that room, I could call for help. Even though I hadn't seen anyone in half a month, the agent said those rooms housed professionals who left early and came home late. Even one person would be better than facing this monster alone.

I looked at the cheap wardrobe. Behind it was that partition wall.

I didn't care if I'd alert the thing above anymore. I shoved the wardrobe aside.

Facing that sickly white wall, I raised my leg and kicked with all my strength.

Bang. A dull thud.

The wall shook but didn't break.

The crawling sounds overhead suddenly stopped. Right above me. He was listening. Judging what I was trying to do.

Gritting my teeth, I stepped back and kicked again, even harder.

Bang.

This time the drywall made a brittle cracking sound, forming a dent.

It was working!

Like a madwoman, I kicked that dent again and again. Fear transformed into adrenaline. I couldn't feel the pain in my foot anymore. Only one thought filled my mind: Break through it!

Crack.

Finally, I'd kicked a hole through the drywall.

Ignoring the sharp edges, I reached in and tore at the insulation, widening the opening. A cloud of dust made me cough.

Through that hole, I could see into the adjacent room. In the faint light spilling from my room, I saw a bed. Someone was sitting on it. Long hair, back to me, completely motionless.

"Help! Someone's trying to kill me! Please help!"

I shouted at that silhouette, my voice trembling.

The person didn't move. Didn't even turn their head.

Panic rising, I didn't care that the hole was barely big enough for a dog. I forced my head and half my body through.

"Ma'am! Wake up! Call the police!"

I reached out and grabbed the woman's shoulder, yanking hard.

That body was surprisingly light, turning easily with my pull.

In that instant, I felt all the blood in my veins freeze.

It was a stiff, pale plastic face. Painted with garish red lips, eyes just dots of black paint.

This was... a store mannequin. Wearing a business suit, wig slightly disheveled, staring at me with those dead painted eyes.

Only then did I see clearly—besides this bed and this mannequin, the room was completely empty. A thick layer of dust covered the floor.

There were no high-level professionals. There never had been.

From directly overhead came an extremely soft laugh. That laugh didn't sound human—like someone with phlegm stuck in their throat, raspy and shrill.

A hand reached out from the ventilation window in my room.

Holding a nylon rope.

Dangling it toward me, stuck helplessly in the wall, and gave it a little shake.