Apartment of Horrors

It's nighttime, and I'm on the toilet with my phone. I fire up Battleborn Arena, ready to grind a few ranked matches.

But an unknown number flashes on-screen and cuts me off. Annoyed, I decline the call, and a WhatsApp message pops up immediately.

"Run! Edgar just snapped. He's going to kill us all!"

My hands tremble.

Edgar Maguire… Isn't he already dead?

My teammates hit me with a string of question marks when my hero stood idle and failed to hold the base. Frustrated, I quit the game and opened WhatsApp.

The message was from Jacob Zeller, who lived downstairs from me. He was my roommate in college.

There were four of us sharing a dorm, and we were pretty tight. While we were interning, we decided to job hunt together and moved into a cheaper apartment to lower our rent.

Once everyone had a job, our hours were all over the place, so we each got an apartment to keep from getting in each other's way. We still grab a meal together from time to time.

Among the four of us, the oldest, Edgar Maguire, was unassuming and kind. He always looked out for us, and we treated him like an older brother.

He came from a village and was an orphan that the whole community helped raise. He studied hard, and whenever he had time, he took on part-time jobs to save up for tuition and living expenses.

When we were interning, he was the first to land an offer. But the good times didn't last. Three days ago, Edgar was murdered in his apartment. The killer still hasn't been found.

When I saw Jacob's message, a chill ran down my spine. That last call was him, too, so I called him right back.

I kept my voice low, the irritation edging through. "Jacob, what the heck are you talking about? Did you forget Edgar already passed away?"

His voice came over the line, shaky. "I-it's true. Did you check the apartment residents' group chat? The message was from Edgar!"

I hesitated for a beat and told him we'd follow up on WhatsApp, then pulled up the group chat. Out of habit, my phone was on silent, and the group chat was muted. After Jacob's reminder, I saw the message Edgar had sent.

303: "Everyone in this building is gonna die tonight!"

603: "What the hell is happening downstairs?"

304: "Wait, wasn't the guy in 303 already… dead?"

401: "Seriously, who's using his phone to pull a prank? This isn't funny."

Apartment 303 was Edgar's unit, and the message was coming from his WhatsApp account. The other residents were buzzing about it, but no one seemed to take that line seriously.

The building was six stories tall, with four units per floor, and it wasn't fully occupied. I shot Jacob a text. "Who took Edgar's phone after he died?"

He texted back, "No idea. It was never found."

I pursed my lips and replied, "Could the person who killed Edgar still be in this building?"

Jacob didn't text back for ages. Maybe that idea rattled him, too. Just then, someone knocked on the door.

"Police. Anyone home?"

I was on the toilet, my legs already tingling, my mind all over the place.

It hadn't even been 20 minutes since Edgar's text. The police couldn't be here already, could they? Besides, everyone in the building figured it was a prank. Who would've called the police?

I didn't dare make a sound. A fear I couldn't pinpoint crept through me.

Whoever was outside fell silent. My bathroom's right by the front door. I wiped as quietly as I could, pulled up my pants, and shuffled to the door.

I looked through the peephole and saw nothing but pitch-black. That made no sense. The hallway light was always on. It cast a dim yellow glow, but it was never completely dark.

Unless someone outside was peering back through the peephole.

The idea popped into my head, and I went stiff. I didn't even dare breathe.

"Nobody's home?"

I heard the guy outside mutter it through the door. I couldn't help feeling relieved. I'd gone straight for the bathroom when I got back, so the lights were still off.

He must've decided I wasn't home. He eased back from the peephole and looked down, tapping at his phone. He was a young man in a police uniform, fully kitted out.

After sending the message on his phone, he turned, headed across the hall, and knocked on the door opposite mine.