Chapter 3Her Ghost Showers At Midnight

Instantly, a violent chill racked my body.

The living room was pitch black. The bathroom was dead silent.

It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the entire apartment. The noises, the lights, the sheer wrongness of the atmosphere—it all vanished so abruptly it made my ears ring.

It felt exactly like waking up from a falling nightmare. One second, terror. The next, nothing.

I couldn't process it. My chest was still heaving, the terror still pooling in my gut.

Swallowing past the sandpaper in my throat, I kept the bat raised and reached out to flip the living room switch. It required a solid, forceful push, letting out a loud CLACK before the room flooded with cheap fluorescent light.

Looking at the switch, I realized something. If someone had been flicking that light on and off as fast as I’d seen it under the door, they couldn't have done it without making a racket.

Still, the light made the space feel a fraction safer. I let out a shaky breath.

I turned my attention to the hallway. I had to know what was in that bathroom.

I slid open the frosted glass door of the shower.

Nothing. The tub was bone dry. There wasn't a single drop of water, let alone a leak.

But I knew what I’d heard. This building was an ancient relic; the units directly above and below mine had been vacant for months. There was no chance I was hearing a neighbor.

What the hell is going on?

I turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water onto my face. I was completely, terrifyingly sober now.

To prove to myself that someone was just screwing with me, I walked over to Hannah’s bedroom and knocked on the door.

Dead silence.

I tried the handle. Locked.

Since we were practically strangers sharing a lease, we both had a strict habit of locking our doors when we left. But I was already down the rabbit hole tonight. I needed an answer.

I walked over to the water cooler in the kitchen, filled a glass to the absolute brim, and set it carefully on the floor, right flush against her bedroom door.

Her door opened outward. If she was in there, the moment she opened it, the glass would tip, the water would spill, and I would hear the heavy thud of the glass hitting the faux-wood floor.

I wanted hard proof of whether she was in there or not.