“I’m telling you, crazy people live here,” she said for the third time.
“Ma’am, you have to put yourself together. The neighbors are complaining, and right now, you are scaring them.”
“I’m scaring them? How? Am I the one who knocks on their door every hour of the night?”
“Ma’am, we’ve checked. Nobody knocks on your door. If you keep this up, we’ll have to take you to the station, where you’ll be spending the night.”
“Yes! Take me. I do not want to spend another minute here.”
Flashback to two nights before:
Knock! Knock!
Ameha checks the time. It’s 11:00 PM. She thinks to herself, Who the heck is knocking on the door this late?
She cautiously approaches the door and peers through the peephole. A tall man stands too close, his face obscured.
Unease grips Ameha as she commands the man to leave and return another day, regardless of his business.
She hears him leave the corridor and returns to her project. Exhaustion overwhelms her, and she falls asleep at her desk.
Another knock disrupts her. It’s midnight.
Slightly flustered, she checks the door. An old woman, with a dying flower in hand, stands outside.
Confused and wary, Ameha asks the woman her business. The woman wants to welcome her to the apartment.
What’s wrong with her? Ameha politely asks the woman to leave, warning of police or management involvement.
Suspicious of the building, Ameha finishes her work and heads to bed.
Another knock. This time, she calls management and texts her friend Sydney, who lives in the same building. No answer from management, no response from Sydney.
Knock. Knock. It’s two girls at 2 AM, giggling and asking for help finding their parents.
Annoyed, Ameha sends them away and yells at them to go home.
Silence.
The next morning, Ameha is tired and fearful. She considers staying in her apartment, afraid of encountering those people again.
She decides to visit her friend Sydney, planning to stay over for the night. Despite acting brave during the day, the incessant knocks have shaken her faith in the police and management.
Knock. Knock.
“Go away!” Sydney screams.
“Hey Sydney, it’s me. Stop with the drugs and let me in.”
“Ameha?” Sydney’s voice relaxes. She opens the door, looking as if she hasn’t slept in days.
“Come in. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, sure. Are you dealing with the same late-night visitors?”
“No, Ameha, why have you?” Sydney’s eyes grow larger, and she becomes more anxious, scratching the surface of the sofa and whispering to herself, “If they go to her, why come to me? If they go to her, why come to me?”
“SYDNEY!” Ameha yells to bring her to her senses.
“Yes! Yes! What late-night visitors?”
“I don’t know. All day while I was moving in, no one came to help, and suddenly they are coming at night. It’s really weird and freaking me out,” says Ameha.
“Oh, the visitors,” says Sydney.
“So you know them?” asks Ameha.
“No, not personally…”
“Of course not personally,” Ameha exclaims.
A cold smile crosses Sydney’s face. “I haven’t slept since I arrived. These people keep coming at night, bringing gifts and such. It’s unnerving.”
“And one day, I asked what it would take for them to leave me alone, and the girls said maybe a new visitor to play with.”
“I am guessing those bitches are liars because you are here, and fucking hell, they still fuck with me.”
“Wait, a new visitor?” Ameha is confused. “Did you invite me here to make them leave you alone?”
Sydney smiles and cries at the same time, which Ameha did not know was possible until that moment.
In disbelief, Ameha yells at Sydney, asking why she invited her to move to this apartment.
Sydney tells her to keep it down and keep the door closed.
Part 1 ends.
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