Chapter Nine

Break

"Good morning, dear."

"Good morning, miss."

"Good morning," Petra replied, surprised that she was actually having a pleasant and normal exchange with someone from her building, for a change. She held the elevator door open for the old, sweet couple as they slowly got out of it. With them was also a small, short and old dog that followed them loyally. It was an adorable sight, which made her smile.

That scene comforted her.

Apparently, she had just met her front door neighbors, she noted, as the old lady opened the door to the apartment right in front of hers. They didn't even flinch at the sight of the fresh white markings, nor looked twice at the scratches on their door. She assumed they were probably used to it.

The old man then started to speak in French but, as his wife had already gone inside, she was left in confusion. Was he talking to her? She recognized the language, but understood very little of it.

It was then that she noticed he was staring at the dog and the pet, in turn, was sitting and staring back at him, looking as if it was actually listening and understanding.

Petra was trying to decide if the scene was cute or odd when the old man noticed she was still there and staring at him.

He smiled gently. "He only understands French, you see? Had to go to Spain to learn French for him."

Petra nodded, even more confused. Why would a dog understand a foreign language? Why would someone actually learn a new language specifically to talk to a dog? And who goes to Spain to learn French?

The man smiled again and walked inside, closely followed by the French dog.

"Well, that was quirky," she mused, divided between feeling confused and entertained. Petra walked inside the elevator. "But then again, I've seen worse."

While the elevator went down, she remembered the shady events of the previous night, especially the elevator creep.

She felt mainly embarrassed of how she had handled things. Obviously, Mr. Creepy would've made any girl nervous, but she had taken it to a whole new exaggerated level. In fact, she was now convinced that she had freaked herself out, to the point where she started to have some weird recall of her previous nightmare.

And that was it.

The footsteps had been nothing more than a product of her twisted subconscious. Or something like that.

She couldn't let it happen again. Olivia was right. About everything.

She was stronger than this.

Nothing justified her shameful surrender to the pills and the moronic lists. Petra decided she could never allow herself to succumb so easily to her paranoia and mindless, ridiculous fears.

Once the elevator trip was over, she quickly headed towards the door. She stopped midway though.

On the other side of the door, on the outside, there was the crazy old woman again, only this time, she wasn't alone. The woman was talking to two young guys, they were probably Petra's age. They both carried heavy bags and luggage and looked at the old woman with confusion and, maybe, a little entertainment.

One of them was searching for something in one of his bags and pockets. She assumed he was looking for the keys. If the old lady was half as scary to them as she had been for her, then they'd be in a hurry to get inside and get away from her.

The guy closest to the door, the one searching for something, had dark skin and black dreadlocks, which he kept out of his face by wearing a large headband. He looked a little freaked out by the woman and Petra couldn't blame him. She decided she liked him already. The other guy had tanned skin and wild, messy hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in days. He had a short, careless looking beard and was obviously trying not to smile at the old woman. It seemed like he found her amusing, but was trying not to show it. She decided she already liked him as well. They both wore baggy, casual clothes, a fact that made Petra assume they were students, like her.

She decided to help end their misery by quickly opening the door.

The guy with the dreadlocks looked at her as if she was a gift from above. She could actually feel his relief and gratitude. Petra kept the door open as he collected all his bags and got inside as fast as he could.

"Thanks," he said, wearing a huge smile.

"No problem," she replied, holding the door for the second guy as well.

When she closed it, she found herself facing the old woman, with only the door's glass between them. The woman grinned devilishly and Petra shuddered, turning her back to her immediately after.

Wanting to put some distance between them, she seized the opportunity to help the guys again, by holding open the elevator door as they loaded it with their luggage and bags.

This time, it was the beard guy who thanked her.

"Thank you," he said, offering his hand to her, which she took. When he smiled, she found herself blushing.

"You're welcome. So, you guys are moving in, huh?"

"Yup. Sixth floor."

"I see you already had the pleasure of meeting our self-appointed door lady."

"No shit. That is one weird old woman," dreadlock guy said. "Is she always there?"

"Most of the time," she replied, kind of enjoying his freaked out expression. It was amusing. "Sometimes she's inside, painting white stuff on the walls and mumbling to herself."

"For real?"

"Oh, believe me," she said with a laugh, "you haven't seen weird yet."

"Well, that's great," he said with sarcasm. "Nice pick, Kyle."

"She's harmless, just a crazy old lady," beard guy, Kyle, replied. "Please don't tell me you're afraid of an elderly woman."

"No."

"Then chill, man."

"But she's super weird. Kind of freaked me out."

"It's an old woman," Kyle remarked, rolling his eyes. "You just nod and smile at what she says and she'll leave you alone."

"Old people know stuff."

"Can't believe this."

"All I'm saying is maybe you should've listened to me and we'd be living downtown."

"That place was crawling with fucking roaches, dude. Are you serious?"

"You can kill the roaches, can't kill old ladies."

"You've got to be kidding me-"

"What did she say to you?" Petra interrupted, although she suspected she knew already.

"Something like don't get in there, I'm warning you, only creepier."

"It's an old woman," Kyle repeated, laughing. "She won't hurt you. Just let it go, man."

"She said the same to me," Petra admitted not at all surprised that the woman had repeated her act on them.

"And voilá, you're still alive," Kyle retorted, mocking his friend. "Somehow... erm, sorry, what's your name?"

"Petra," she replied, blushing again because Kyle was looking at her straight in the eyes while wearing a charming smile and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Fifth floor."

"Pleasure to meet you, Petra." His smile widened and she had to remind herself she wasn't in middle school anymore and giggling would not be appropriate. "Somehow, Petra has managed to escape the elderly woman's terrible wrath," he finished saying to his friend before turning back to her. "I am Kyle and this is my friend, Eli."

Eli nodded, also wearing a friendly smile.

"We have nothing upstairs yet, but if you want to come up and have, I don't know, breakfast, you're more than welcome."

"Only because it's too early to have beer," Eli joked.

"Thanks guys, honestly, I'd love to," she answered. "But I have classes I can't skip this morning."

"Well, ours is apartment C, you can come over anytime," Kyle offered, squeezing himself next to Eli on the crowded elevator.

"Thank you!"

"See you around, neighbor," Eli said with a wink before letting the door close.

"See ya," she whispered, wearing the largest smile she had expressed ever since arriving at that building.

Petra actually jumped in place, such was her joy and excitement. Finally, normal, friendly people to talk to and hang out with. They seemed cool and fun and... normal.

Suddenly things didn't seem so bad anymore. The building itself looked brighter, not so scary, not so lonely anymore.

Prompted by this sudden rush of confidence, relief and optimism, and by Kyle's words and attitude, she even felt brave enough to finally confront the old lady. After a deep breath, she walked outside and faced the woman, head on. Though a little nervous, she was determined. The woman fixed her uncomfortable gaze on her, eyeing Petra with interest. Those clear green eyes made her shudder, once again she was forced to recognize that they looked way too young to belong to her.

Petra sighed. "I know you're the one writing and drawing white things on the walls inside."

The woman said nothing, she just stared and nodded, a small smile growing on her lips.

"I don't care about that," Petra continued, "as long as it doesn't affect me or anyone else, I don't have problem with it." She shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy."

The old lady's smile grew and she nodded again. Her eyes were shinning, like she was getting emotional or excited.

Petra sighed once again. "Are you the one screaming in the hallway? Right outside my door? Are you the one pacing back and forth for hours?"

The woman didn't answer. Her smile turned to a grin.

"Because that does bother me," Petra said, trying not to let the creepy grin trouble her. "That I have a problem with. So, if it is you doing that, I am politely asking you to not do it on the fifth floor anymore, alright? Please."

The lack of a response, or even clear reaction, was frustrating.

"If it happens again, I will have to call the police."

Once more, no reply. Nothing. They just stood there, staring at each other.

It got uncomfortable really fast, so Petra tried to break the silence and run away as fast as possible.

"Okay, well... That's it. Erm... Thanks for listening, I guess. Have a good day."

She turned around and took two steps, when the old lady finally spoke, "It wasn't me."

Petra quickly turned to face her again.

"What?"

"It wasn't me," she repeated, her grin wider than before. "And it won't stop."

"I'm sorry?"

"You can't say I didn't warn you, my dear."