Chapter 1: Apartment 1000L

Chapter 1: Apartment 1000L

The key felt cold and alien in Leo’s palm. It was the key to his future, to independence, to finally having a space that was entirely his own. He repeated this mantra to himself as he stared at the tarnished brass numbers on the door: 1000L. An odd number for an apartment, but the rent was a steal.

“So, here we are,” Mr. Abernathy, the landlord, wheezed behind him. The man was a walking collection of anxieties, his face pale and slick with a sweat that had nothing to do with the cool, dim hallway. His eyes darted everywhere but at Leo or the apartment door. “Top floor, end of the hall. Quiet.”

Leo offered a reassuring smile. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Mr. Abernathy.”

The name of the complex, ‘The Havenwood’, was a cruel joke. The aged floral wallpaper was peeling in damp patches, and the air hung thick with the ghosts of a thousand forgotten meals and the sharp tang of industrial cleaner. A single fluorescent light above them flickered spasmodically, casting long, dancing shadows. Still, it was his.

“Right, well.” Abernathy shoved a crumpled lease agreement into Leo’s free hand, his own trembling slightly. “Sign that, slide it under my door—Apartment G—when you’re done. Any issues, just… well, try not to have any issues.”

The man’s haste was unnerving. He was practically vibrating with the need to be anywhere else. “Is there anything I should know? About the plumbing, or the…”

“It’s all in the lease!” Abernathy cut him off, his voice a half-octave too high. He took a half-step back, as if the door itself might lash out. “Standard stuff. Just… keep to yourself. People around here like their privacy.”

With that, he turned and all but fled down the hallway, his worn leather shoes squeaking a frantic retreat. Leo stood alone in the flickering silence, a sense of unease creeping over him. He shook it off. It was just an eccentric landlord, nothing more. He was finally on his own; a little weirdness was part of the package.

He turned the key. The lock groaned in protest but finally gave way with a heavy clunk. The door swung inward, and Leo stepped across the threshold into his new life.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Bleach. So much bleach it made his eyes water. But underneath it, something else lingered. A faint, earthy, almost bitter scent. He sniffed the air. Coffee? It was strange, but not entirely unpleasant. Probably the last tenant was a caffeine addict.

The apartment itself was better than the hallway suggested. It was small, a combined living and kitchen area with a short hall leading to a bedroom and bathroom. The real prize was the massive window at the far end of the living room, which looked out over the city’s twinkling expanse. Hope surged back into his chest. This was it. He could make this work. He could build his peaceful, stable life right here.

He dropped his first box of belongings with a thud and was about to start unpacking when a soft knock echoed from the open door. He turned to see a girl leaning against the doorframe.

She was striking. Her shoulder-length hair was a stark split of jet black and snow white, a bold line drawn right down the middle. Large, hazel-brown eyes regarded him with open curiosity, and a friendly smile played on her lips. She was dressed in a well-loved band t-shirt, ripped black jeans, and scuffed combat boots, a perfect picture of grunge chic.

“Hey,” she said, her voice warm. “You’re the new neighbor. I’m Kiwi.”

Leo felt an awkward smile spread across his face. “Leo. And yeah, just moving in.”

“Kiwi?” he asked, a bit dumbfounded.

She laughed, a bright, easy sound that seemed to chase some of the gloom from the apartment. “My parents were hippies. It was either that or Moonbeam. I think I got the better deal.” She gestured with a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m in 1000K, right next door. Let me know if you need a hand with any of the heavy stuff.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Leo said, feeling a genuine warmth for the first time since arriving. He was a natural introvert, but her energy was infectious. “I think I can manage for now, but don’t be surprised if I take you up on that later.”

Her eyes drifted past him, scanning the apartment’s interior. For a fleeting moment, her smile tightened, and a shadow crossed her face. “So, Abernathy actually managed to rent this place out again.”

The comment hung in the air. “Again? Was it on the market for long?”

Kiwi seemed to catch herself, her bubbly demeanor snapping back into place. “Oh, you know. This place… it has a bit of a reputation. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure. Just old building stories.” She gave him a reassuring wink, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Anyway, welcome to The Havenwood. It’s not as bad as it looks. Mostly.”

She gave a little wave and disappeared back into the hallway, leaving Leo with her name, her smile, and a fresh layer of unease. A reputation?

He closed the door, the heavy deadbolt sliding home with a satisfyingly solid sound. He was being paranoid. New place, new people, new anxieties. He just needed to make it feel like home.

He spent the next hour hauling boxes from his car, the physical labor a welcome distraction. As he started unpacking in the bedroom, however, the feeling returned. It was a primal, prickling sensation on the back of his neck, the kind that says you’re not alone. The kind that says you’re being watched.

He’d pause, straining his ears, but heard nothing but the distant city hum and the groan of the old building. Yet, the feeling persisted, a silent weight in the air. He tried to brush it off, turning up the music on his phone, but the silence seemed to swallow the sound.

He decided to check out the second small room, which he’d planned to use as a home office. It was little more than a glorified closet, but it had a small window. He pushed the door open and a chill, colder than the rest of the apartment, washed over him. The air here was stale and heavy.

And then he saw the wall.

Three of the walls were the same dingy, off-white as the rest of the apartment, peppered with scuffs and the ghosts of old picture frames. But the fourth wall, the one that faced the hallway, was different. It was pristine. A perfect, smooth, bright white rectangle of plaster and fresh paint. It didn't match. The paint smelled too new, a chemical sharpness that barely masked that same underlying scent of coffee grounds.

Leo ran a hand over it. It was perfectly smooth, almost seamless, unlike the slightly textured plaster on the other walls. It was like a fresh patch, but a massive one, covering nearly the entire surface. Why would someone patch an entire wall instead of just painting the room?

He pressed his ear against it, feeling foolish. He expected to hear the faint murmur of the hallway or Kiwi’s apartment, but there was nothing. Just a dead, thick silence.

The feeling of being watched intensified, emanating from the dark corners of this tiny room. He backed out slowly, pulling the door shut, his heart thumping a nervous rhythm against his ribs.

By the time night fell, Leo had managed to set up his bed and unpack his kitchen essentials. He ate a sad microwave dinner standing over the sink, the city lights outside offering a cold comfort. He was exhausted, but the apartment’s oppressive atmosphere kept him wired. He did a final check of the apartment, making sure every window was locked. He stood before the front door and tested the handle. Solid. He turned the deadbolt, feeling the heavy bolt slide firmly into the frame. Locked. Safe.

He collapsed into his new bed, the unfamiliar sheets cool against his skin. Sleep came fitfully, a shallow, dreamless state. He drifted, suspended in the quiet darkness of his new home.

Click.

The sound was soft, but sharp enough to slice through the silence and drag Leo from the edge of sleep. His eyes snapped open. It was a metallic sound. Unmistakable.

It was the sound of the deadbolt on his front door sliding open.

He lay there, frozen, every muscle in his body rigid. His mind raced, trying to find a rational explanation. The lock was old. It must have just settled.

Then came the second sound: a low, drawn-out creeeeeak as the heavy door swung open on its hinges.

Silence. A heavy, breathless pause that stretched for an eternity. Leo held his breath, his ears straining, listening for the sound of footsteps, for an intruder’s breath. There was nothing. Just the impossible, gaping silence of an open door.

Then, a soft thud as the door was pushed shut, followed by the final, deafening sound.

Click.

The deadbolt slid back into place.

Leo was alone again. Locked in. But now he knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that whatever was watching him wasn't outside his door. It was in the apartment with him.