Chapter Eleven

Fear

Petra had finished revising a paper she had to deliver the next day and it was already half past one in the morning. Natasha had gone to bed early, claiming to be too tired to hang out, but Petra had the sneaky suspicion she was a little weary of being alone with her for long.

Honestly, Petra could hardly blame her.

She lit up a cigarette, closed her laptop and took a final sip off her coffee. She wasn't sleepy and, with all the caffeine she had on her system, she doubted she would be anytime soon. Going to the balcony was very much out of the question.

She was considering reading a book, watching a movie or calling Olivia when the bell from the door downstairs rang.

Petra was a little surprised, it was an odd time for a visit, but went to the intercom anyway. Someone had probably forgotten their keys or rang the wrong bell, nothing to worry about.

Lifting the phone shaped intercom to her ear, she talked into it, "Hello?"

Nothing.

"Hello?" she repeated. Again, no response.

Petra shrugged and put the devise to rest on its handle. Just to make sure it wasn't a flaw in the old system, she gathered up the courage to return to the balcony and look down, trying to see if there was someone down there at the entrance.

As far as she could see, there was no one, but her field of vision wasn't perfect. While she was looking, the doorbell rang again.

She ran to the door, once again grabbed the intercom and spoke to it, "Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello??"

Again, nothing.

"This isn't funny and I'll be ignoring you from now on."

About to hang up, she quickly returned the object to her ear when she heard a voice on the other side.

"Please," a man said, sounding desperate, close to tears, "please, let me out. Let me out!"

Driven by instinct more than anything else, Petra quickly hung up.

"What the fuck," she whispered, eyes open wide, confused.

Slowly, she walked through the long hallway, aimless, her mind still stuck on the strange voice.

"Probably just some drunk loser."

Determined to let it go, she focused instead on choosing a movie to watch on her laptop.

She jumped on her seat though as the doorbell rang again, startling her. Only this time it was the bell from the door upstairs.

Her heart started beating faster. Who could possibly be ringing their doorbell at 2 a.m.?

"No, no again," she whispered to herself. "You're not freaking out again."

The doorbell rang again.

"Let it go." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Just let it go."

The annoying buzzing sound filled the silent apartment once more.

"Whoever it is will just give up eventually. Pretend no one's home."

She was actually surprised Natasha hadn't woken up with the irritating noise. But Petra was determined not to give in. She wouldn't go to the door, she wouldn't allow herself another nerve wracking experience. Whoever it was couldn't be up to anything good, none of the girls were expecting company and no one would normally ring at someone's door at that ungodly hour.

No, it was best if she ignored, especially after the weird call from the man downstairs. What if it was the same man? Something was clearly wrong with him and she didn't want to risk any further contact.

But the doorbell wouldn't stop ringing.

It rang and rang and rang again, each time longer and more urgent than the last.

Petra covered her ears with her hands and begged for it to stop.

"Go away."

It rang.

"Please, just go away."

Rang again. And it kept ringing and ringing.

"Just go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go-"

Ringing and ringing and ringing.

"Go away, go away, go away, just go the fuck away!"

And it finally stopped.

Opening her eyes and slowly uncovering her ears, Petra waited, anxiously, without moving, embracing the return of the blissful silence and agonizing at the possibility that it could be disturbed again, at any moment. After a few moments, during which the doorbell never rang again, she finally took a sigh of relief.

She got up from the living room chair and paced back and forth, playing with her hands. She was finding it hard to ignore this latest event.

Summoning the kind of bravery she didn't know she still had and overwhelmed by curiosity, she went to the door.

Petra peeked through the small hole in the door but saw nothing, only darkness. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened it and immediately felt the hallway was empty. Turning on the light, she confirmed it, no one else was there. Whoever had been ringing the doorbell before had already left.

And then she had a crazy idea.

Closing the door behind her, she went to the elevator, commanding it to go down the five floors. Once on the ground level, she went to the entrance door without even bothering to turn the lights on.

And just like she thought, there she was, the old lady. This would probably be the only time Petra was somehow satisfied to see her. Normally, she would've thought it had been the old woman ringing both doorbells just to mess with her as usual or simply to entertain herself, but this time she knew it hadn't been her, the voice she'd heard was definitely male.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself mentally for the inevitably awkward conversation ahead.

Opening the door, and claiming the old lady's attention immediately, Petra faced her, though she remained partially inside the building.

"Erm... Excuse me," she began, feeling more than just slightly uncomfortable, "I'm sorry, hmm, good evening."

The woman didn't reply, she just stared, looking as surprised at Petra's approach as Petra herself was.

"Okay... Hmm, you've been here all night, right?"

The woman nodded, her eyes studying Petra with scrutiny.

"Then, can you please tell me who was it that rang the doorbell just a little while ago? Was it one of the residents? Had you seen him before?"

The woman was silent for a moment and Petra waited with patience. She then grinned and her eyes sparkled, as if Petra had just given her the best of news.

"No one," she finally said.

"No one."

"No one was here. No one rang the doorbell."

"Right. Sure." Petra rolled her eyes. "Figures. Why did it even cross my mind that you would help me?"

The old lady's grin just widened in response and Petra sighed. "Fine, be like that. Thanks a lot!"

She was ready to go back inside when a car approached, disturbing the otherwise peaceful night with the loud music coming from inside it. The car stopped in the middle of the road and the driver stepped out.

"Good evening, ladies."

Petra couldn't help but smile. It was Kyle and he sounded so cheerful, it was contagious. She waved at him.

Kyle then walked towards the only empty parking space in the whole street, one right in front of the building's entrance that was only empty because a traffic cone had been put in the middle of it. Without ceremony, Kyle grabbed the traffic cone and put it inside the trunk of his car. He then returned to the driver's seat and parked his car on the now completely empty spot.

Petra found it ingenious and highly amusing.

He walked towards them with a huge, charming smile on his face and a grocery bag on his hand.

"Hey Petra. Ma'am." He nodded to the old woman, who returned his smile, though hers wasn't good natured at all, it was evil. Kyle didn't seem to notice though, or if he did, he did an amazing job at promptly ignoring it.

"Hi Kyle," Petra replied, holding the door for him. Suddenly the old woman wasn't so interesting anymore and the doorbell event wasn't so intriguing. "What are you doing outside at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he answered. They were both heading towards the elevator. "But you're in your pajamas, so I believe it's fair that you go first."

She blushed, mortified. She was wearing her improvised pajama – a pair of girly boxers and a tight tank top, the type of clothing no one else is supposed to see.

They walked inside the elevator and she avoided the mirror at all costs, already feeling self-conscious enough.

"Someone was ringing at my doorbell nonstop and then refusing to answer through the intercom," she explained, with a shrug, trying to sound relaxed and nonchalant. The last thing she wanted was for him to realize the paranoid nutjob she actually was. "I thought the old lady could tell me who it was."

"Must've been a stupid prank," he concluded. "I saw a bunch of drunk kids walking down the street when I was driving here."

"Yeah, must've been that," she agreed, though not whole-heartedly. She conveniently forgot to mention the voice and the ringing upstairs. "What about you?"

"We're watching movies, you know, just chilling, but we ran out of snacks and drinks, so I went to get some at the gas station. Hey, since you're awake and all, you should come over, hang out."

"Sure," she replied, excited. "Sounds like fun."

It was perfect really, she wasn't sleepy at all and the boys would be the perfect relaxed and positive – normal – company. She needed that.

"I'll just go home and change into something more... comfortable." The elevator stopped and she opened the door. "I'll be there in just a second."

"Cool. We'll be waiting." He winked and Petra had to focus and remind herself it would be too weird for her to physically melt.

She basically danced home, all her previous concerns forgotten, ridiculed and deemed unimportant.

She quickly changed into a pair of comfortable baggy pants and a t-shirt, shuddering when she saw her messy hair in the mirror and deciding to save the remains of her dignity and comb it, before putting on her sneakers. She still couldn't believe she had let herself be seen walking around barefoot.

Happy and eager to have a much deserved night of relaxation and fun, Petra left her apartment and went up the flight of stairs that separated both floors.

When she reached the sixth floor she couldn't help but notice there was yet another flight of stairs upwards that must lead to an attic. She'd never been there before and curiosity took over her.

It would only take a couple of minutes to investigate.

Feeling bold, Petra went up the extra flight of stairs.

There was no visible light switch on the last floor, but it was considerably smaller than the other ones, so she could see it almost on its entirety with the light from bellow. There was only one door and it was close to the stairs, the wood looking older than the others. Immediately, she felt heavier and an almost palpable shift in the atmosphere, almost like she had entered a different building, a different dimension. It was like everything was amplified there – the darkness seemed more dangerous, like it was purposely hiding something, the tiniest of sounds, like her timid footsteps and breathing, were louder than they should, the usual smell of old stuff and locked places hit her nose with violence, making it somewhat harder to breathe. Her senses were in overdrive and she felt overpowered and stuffed, caged, which was remarkable for such a small place.

Petra felt the overwhelming desire to leave, to run and, at the same time, the inexplicable need to stay, as if something was calling to her, as if something had attracted her and was keeping her there.

It was as if her body was begging to leave, but her mind wanted to stay and understand why. She felt a new, different kind of fear, but was inexplicably enjoying it.

What the place did to her wasn't its only remarkable feature though. On the walls she could see, more than any other place, the white markings and drawings. They were everywhere, more carefully constructed than in any other wall in the building, they were much larger too and she could even tell they were layered, as if the old lady repeatedly drew them on top of each other. It was eerily beautiful.

The old lady's marks weren't the only things illustrating these walls, though. Multiple scratches, as destructive and impressive as the ones she had seen in some of her neighbors' doors also tainted the space.

But the worst were the footprints. The unnatural, skeletal, disgusting footprints, exactly like the ones she had seen in her living room, scattered throughout every wall, the floor and even the ceiling.

The sight of them made her feel sick and nauseous. She couldn't leave though, she was in a trance, like her body didn't belong to her anymore.

Looking closely, she could also see that, in the middle of all the white drawings, around the only door, there were a few sentences written in English. She could tell it hadn't been the old woman, as these sentences had been written with markers and in different handwriting.

The door itself had written messages like:

God cannot be tempted with evil, and He Himself tempts no one.

The whole world lies in the power of the evil one.

And that we may be delivered from wicked and evil men. For not all have faith.

Petra shivered. She actually found those messages creepier than the old woman's writing and symbols.

Something broke the quiet then. The sound of something lightly scratching behind the door, like something with claws moving fast. Despite every single cell in her body screaming for her to run, Petra was compelled to walk to that door.

And so she did.

Against her every instinct, even though she was terrified and shaking, Petra slowly walked to the door, trying to not make any sound, like she was afraid of disturbing someone's slumber. She tried to open the door but found it locked, which was a relief.

As soon as her hand dropped the doorknob, the light from the sixth floor's hallway gave up.

She froze. In the dark, she felt trapped, like she'd be seen if she made any movement. Petra felt like she couldn't move and yet wanted to run away desperately.

And then she heard it - heavy, slow breathing. She couldn't tell if it was coming from behind the door or not, but knew it was close.

Her heart was racing. She wanted to scream, to call for help, but couldn't find her voice.

When she heard she scrapping again, this time coming from above her, her body finally regained its autonomy.

She ran, clumsily holding to the wall for guidance. She stumbled down the stairs, almost falling a couple of times.

She felt chased, somehow her body knew she had to escape, to survive something.

As soon as she landed on the sixth floor, the light was turned on. Before she could even understand what had happened, she found herself staring at Kyle's goofy smile.

"There you are," he said, his easy going attitude working like medicine on her, her body slowly warming up again. Somehow, he made her feel safe. "We were wondering why it was taking you so long."

He was standing at the door of his apartment, having just turned on the hallway light.

"I was about to go and check up on you."

Not wanting to give anything away, Petra smiled and tried to control her breathing, wishing to appear as normal and casual as possible.

"Yeah, something came up, uh..." She looked behind her, just to make sure nothing was following her anymore.

As expected, and as usual, nothing was there. Everything looked, and now felt, perfectly normal.

Turning back to face him, she nervously laughed.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

"No problem." He gestured for her to get inside. "Welcome to our home."