"Something's off with the landlord," Chris thought, scratching his head. "But I can't rule out the others just yet."
Since stepping into the eerie apartment complex, Chris had crossed paths with four peculiar figures: a woman hiding behind her door, Ryan distributing missing person flyers, a short-tempered landlord, and an elderly man bound to a wheelchair.
"That old man and the landlord live together, so I'll set them aside for now. The woman on the first floor gave me the creeps, but Ryan seemed the most normal. Maybe he knows something about what's really going on in this place."
Chris put down the thermos he was holding, locked his door, and made his way downstairs.
As he reached the first floor, the dim motion-sensor lights flickered to life, illuminating the narrow hallway. There, Ryan was silently stuffing missing-person flyers into the cracks of seemingly abandoned apartments. Chris's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"That's odd. Most people put up missing-person flyers where they'll actually be seen. But Ryan's stuffing them into vacant places."
Chris trailed Ryan at a safe distance, waiting until the last flyer disappeared into the doorframe of a dark apartment. Only then did he speak up.
"Hey, man," Chris called out, his voice gentle but firm. "I get that you're hurting. Losing someone close is hell. But torturing yourself with this... It's not helping."
Ryan turned slowly, his bloodshot eyes failing to focus on anything. "You don't understand. You'll never understand. None of you can..." His voice trailed off, filled with bitterness and despair.
Chris didn't want to waste time with empty words. He pulled out his phone and brought up the missing persons report he'd filed months ago at the local police station.
"I'm not lying. My parents vanished six months ago, without a trace. I was a wreck too, man. Still am, in some ways."
Ryan glanced at the photos on Chris's phone. His hard expression softened, and after a long, tense silence, he finally spoke.
"I feel for you. Really, I do. But my situation's different. My fiancée... she's still out there. I can feel it. She hasn't gone far."
Chris tilted his head. There was something about Ryan's certainty that tugged at him.
"Tell me your story," Chris asked earnestly. "We're in the same boat. Maybe I can help."
Ryan hesitated, glancing at Chris with a mixture of caution and desperation. After a moment, he relented.
"You can't help me. But you seem decent enough, so take my advice: Get out of here. Do not stay overnight in this place."
Chris felt a shiver crawl up his spine, but he forced a smile. "Look, I've already paid for my room. If you want me gone, you've got to give me a better reason than that."
Ryan leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. "Money or your life—what's more important to you? This apartment complex... it's cursed. Years ago, there was a massacre here. Everyone knows it."
Chris crossed his arms, skeptical. "I've heard about that. This used to be called Fortune Apartments, right? After the incident, they renamed it Peace Apartments. But I couldn't find any real reports online. It seems like it's just a rumor."
Ryan shook his head, his expression deadly serious. "The murder was real. The killer was never caught, and the spirits of those who died… they haven't moved on. Every night, when the sun sets, the dead rise in this place."
Chris's forced smile faltered. "Come on, man. You don't really believe that stuff, do you?"
Ryan clenched his fists. "I didn't, either. Not at first. But that was before my fiancée disappeared."
Chris's eyes widened, his skepticism fading. Ryan's story echoed too closely to his own. "Why was she here? Did she know someone in the building?"
Ryan's expression grew pained. "I don't know. I'd never even heard of this place until she vanished. The police traced her last steps here. They said all leads ended at this building." His hand trembled as he dragged it through his hair, pulling a few strands free. "I've been searching for her ever since."
Chris's mind raced. "And have you found anything? Anything at all?"
Ryan hesitated, then pulled out his phone. After a few quick swipes, he showed Chris a message on the screen.
"My fiancée might have been kidnapped by someone in this building," Ryan whispered.
Chris blinked, startled by the sudden twist. "Wait, missing and kidnapped are two very different things."
Ryan held up a hand to quiet him and turned his phone towards Chris. On the screen was a message from Ryan's fiancée.
The message read two simple, haunting words: "Help me."
The strangest part? The message had been sent just after 2 a.m. the night before.
Chris's mouth fell open. "A missing person sends you a message in the middle of the night asking for help? Why didn't you go straight to the cops? This means she's still alive."
Ryan's face darkened. "You don't understand. I've been getting these messages every night at the same time, 2 a.m., like clockwork. But every time I wake up, they're gone. Erased. No record, no trace, like they never existed."
Chris stared at him, stunned. "Wait, so if you fall asleep, the messages vanish?"
Ryan nodded, his eyes wide with exhaustion. "That's why I haven't slept in days. I'm afraid if I close my eyes, I'll lose her forever."
Chris's mind raced. "And you're sure this isn't just... you know, your mind playing tricks on you?"
Ryan's voice cracked. "I'm not crazy. I swear. There's something... something in this building. I've tried everything—staying awake, monitoring my phone, even putting up security cameras. But every time, those messages vanish when I sleep."
His voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "Sometimes, her things show up in my room—her hairbrush, her favorite book—things that should be lost with her. It's like she's trying to reach me, to remind me that she's still here."
A chill ran down Chris's spine. From everything he'd experienced lately, the idea of restless spirits was no longer some far-fetched superstition. "So, you think your fiancée is still in this building, but not... alive?"
Ryan's hollow eyes fixed on him. "I don't know. I don't care if she's dead or alive. I just want to find her."
Chris's heart pounded in his chest. Could this place really be cursed? The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed, especially given the strange occurrences he'd already experienced.
"I can't leave," Chris muttered, his voice steeling with determination. "I came here to find answers too, and I'm not leaving until I do."
Ryan stared at him, his expression unreadable. "This building changes people. It breaks them. Just make sure it doesn't break you too."
Chris nodded, his jaw tight. "I'm not backing down. Not now."
As Ryan disappeared into the dark corridor, Chris stood there, the silence pressing in around him. The apartment complex, once just a run-down building, now loomed over him like a predator waiting to pounce. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, not just by the living, but by something far worse.