“We’re such close friends!”
“You’re my true friend!”
I heard those words the day after my new neighbor moved in next door. Sometimes, weird things happen at night. For instance, at one in the morning, she calls out to me from her window. It’s unsettling, to say the least.
But why does she think I’m her friend? We’ve barely spoken in the three days she’s been here.
All week, after getting back from my part-time job in the evening, I’d head straight home. Every time, I’d see the same scene: people loitering by the building entrance, waiting for someone or something, drinking, or moms yelling for their kids. But this time, it was suspiciously quiet. Usually, I could hear my neighbors from a block away, but now—nothing. As I turned the corner, a strange image started forming in my mind.
Two pickup trucks were parked there, with five men in black standing nearby. I stopped a little ways off, hoping to catch a snippet of conversation, but they just stared off into the distance in silence. Not one of them said a word, like they’d all sworn to keep their mouths shut. Realizing I wasn’t going to get anything out of this, I headed toward the building and up to the third floor. Right by the entrance, I noticed a chubby girl. She was dressed all in black, with a cute leather hat pulled low over her face. I couldn’t make out any of her features. She was so engrossed in her smartphone that she didn’t even notice me walk by—or at least, she pretended not to.
My feet moved slowly up the stairs. The moment I heard a sob echoing through the building, I froze. A girl ran past me, tears streaming down her face, clutching a tissue in a hand covered by a leather glove. She was dressed just like the girl outside, even down to the same hat obscuring her face. She blew past me like a storm. I’m pretty sure if I’d been in her way, she would’ve knocked me flat. Curious, I decided to head toward the exit to see what would happen next. Right before my eyes, the crying girl bolted to a white pickup, while the other one chased after her. The sobbing girl jumped into the white truck, and the other pulled out her phone and headed for the black one.
With a sigh, I started climbing up to my floor. On the way, I passed three more people dressed in black. As soon as I reached the third floor, a foul smell hit me like a punch. Medics and police officers were gathered outside the apartment of Ivy—the girl who’d called me her friend.
Friday the 13th. Could all this weirdness be because of the date?
I started walking toward my apartment as slowly as possible. Once again, it felt like no one could see me. Like I didn’t even exist. It would’ve been funny if this was some prank by my friends, meant to scare me before they jumped out from around the corner yelling, “Ha-ha! You’re a ghost!” But nothing happened—until I went to slide my key into the lock.
“Miss, are you from apartment 14?” a police officer suddenly blocked my path. Startled, I stepped back, my wide, confused eyes trying to get a better look at him.
“Yes. Avery Barkley,” I blurted out my name without even thinking. He nodded, scribbled something in his notepad, and I let out a breath.
“Avery Barkley is here!” he turned his head and shouted to the people behind him.
I tensed up. A creepy feeling washed over me.
“We need to ask you a few questions. Please, come with me,” he gestured to the side, and like an obedient puppy, I followed. What choice did I have?
***
Outside, it’s the dead of night. The clock’s hand has long since passed one. And I’m scared. Yeah, damn it, I’m scared of everything right now.
You’d think this was Vegas. But this neighborhood? It’s the farthest, most forgotten corner of the city. The nearest store is a thirty-minute drive, maybe forty if you’re not in a rush. The streetlights here barely work. What a nightmare!
After the incident, all the residents of this little building scattered—probably to stay with relatives. But I’ve got nowhere to go. All my family and friends are in other states.
The building is empty, and right next door, a girl was murdered.
My gaze drifted to the wall again. Without overthinking it, I stepped onto the cold floor, grabbed the edge of my bed with both hands, and started dragging it away from the wall. I managed to shift it a bit toward the center of the room. Not bad, considering it’s a bed meant for two.
As soon as my head hit the soft white pillow, I drifted off into the sweet embrace of sleep.
“Avery…” a quiet, insistent voice called to me. “Avery…” it came again.
My eyes snapped open on their own. I couldn’t see anything. Was it a dream?
My throat felt dry. I sat up.
And…
Oh my God!
Standing before me was Ivy. Her skin was covered in blotches. She looked… lifeless. White strands of hair hung down, and her light dress was stained with blood, dripping onto the floor. A deep gash marred her neck, so gruesome it turned my stomach and made me want to throw up… from everything.
It felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe.
She smiled and pointed with her hand toward the wall—toward her apartment.
“There…” she whispered through cracked lips.
No, I don’t believe it. I can’t. I won’t.
I don’t believe it. This can’t be real.
I kept repeating it out loud, desperate for this to be some ridiculous dream, a trick of my imagination. Anything but the truth!
I started tossing and turning in bed, feeling like Ivy was still staring at me. My hand fumbled for the second pillow, and when I found it, I pulled it over my head.
But no matter how much I tried to escape, it happened again the next night. With glassy eyes, I stepped onto the cold floor. The closer I got to her, the stronger the stench of death became. I was terrified, but Ivy didn’t do anything—she just watched me, her eyes tracking my every move. Whenever nausea hit, I covered my mouth with my hand.
And as soon as I stepped out of my apartment, Ivy vanished, and the door slammed shut behind me.
“Okay,” I squeaked out in a shaky voice.
The building was empty. No one would know if I went into the murdered girl’s apartment. It’d be fine, right?
The door wasn’t heavily sealed with police tape, and it was slightly ajar. I managed to peel back some of the tape and slip inside. My eyes immediately landed on a notebook on the bed. Why hadn’t anyone taken it? Did they not notice it? Was it not important?
In the middle of the room, there was still a pool of blood, and that awful smell lingered. The urge to get out of there grew stronger with every step.
Finally, I reached my goal. My fingers flipped through the notebook, page after page, but they were all blank. Then, in the middle, I found a huge drawing—either a castle or a massive mansion. In the center, it read:
“Noel Academy,” I read aloud in a trembling voice. Suddenly, the notebook slipped from my hands and fell into the pool of blood. My whole body started shaking. But, pulling myself together and clenching my fists, I stepped closer. Now, the name was written in blood, and next to it, an address had appeared.