Evelyn, like my friends and I, had gone too deep, messed with things she couldn't control. In an effort to escape the thing she'd loosed from the world beyond, she'd committed suicide. But it hadn't worked. Now her spirit was leashed to that building and the thing she'd summoned up was stalking around in the background, seeking a new host. Evelyn had tried to warn me; that was why she'd shared her own experiences and given me a look at her death. She wanted me to avoid her same fate.
But I was still scared of her.
Perhaps Evelyn was really looking out for me from the other side, trying to protect me. The thought of her being condemned permanently to apartment 11 was saddening. Surely the woman had paid enough for her mistake of dabbling with the occult.
I sat down in the hospital cafeteria, nursing a free cup of ice water, for close to an hour. I had my phone sitting on the table and was preparing to call my dad, but each time I went to dial I hesitated.
Cat and I were the only people in the world who knew about this whole mess, who understood what was actually happening in the apartment complex. I could cut and run, escape the pull of this evil spirit Evelyn had invited in, but what about the next person who moved in? What about Ike, who lived down on the second floor? The more I thought about it, the less I could stand the idea of just running away.
Maybe, with Evelyn on my side, I could stop the thing and banish it to the darkness.
I slumped in my chair. It was pretty far-fetched. I didn't know a damn thing about the occult, and the very notion of returning to Evelyn's room to smash her mirror made me nauseous. Cat had suggested I break the mirror, but there was really no telling whether it would work. The evil spirit in that building was tethered in some way to the physical realm, and breaking a mirror didn't sound like it was going to do the trick. Still, I didn't call my dad to pick me up and spent some time in that cafeteria summoning up my courage.
Go in there and bust the mirror. Worst thing that could happen is that it doesn't work and you call your dad. Right? You can't just let this thing do what it pleases. Someone else is going to move into that room someday and walk headlong into danger. What then? Will you be able to live with yourself if you don't try and settle this before running away?
While picturing the inside of Evelyn's apartment, the mirror I was set to smash, I remembered the large, metal-covered book I'd seen in my dreams. Is the book still there? I wondered. Closing my eyes, I recalled the way it seemed to move at her feet. It'd been a huge tome, had an air of antiquity about it. A mind of its own. Maybe if I can destroy the book, too, the evil spirit will leave.
Stuffing my phone into my pocket, I stood up and started outside with the intention of returning to the Lamplight complex.
Going back there alone was something I'd never expected to do again.
The day was bright and fair. Here and there, along the streets, there were puddles left behind by the rain of recent days. The smells of fresh-cut grass, of distant restaurants met my nose as I hit the sidewalk and headed for Melrose Street.
I was going to do it.
I was going back in there. I didn't really know what I was doing, and I wasn't sure if it would have any effect, but I was going to try and get rid of the evil lurking in that building.
On the way, I'd managed to stitch together a basic plan. Once there, I'd go straight up to apartment 11, Evelyn's place, and go through her things. My first target was the book. If I closed my eyes, I could remember exactly what it looked like. The cover was made of thin, silvery metal, and had a bunch of dizzying circular designs pressed into it. Once I'd found it, I'd destroy it, burn it. And then I'd smash the mirror in the bathroom.
Would this have any effect on the dark thing that haunted the apartment? There was no telling. But the only way I'd come away from this with a clear conscience would be to try.
My reasons for going back weren't solely out of concern for future tenants, either. I feared that if I didn't do something about this, set it right, that whatever existed in that building would follow me out. That it would never rest until it had what it wanted. Running away from the apartment might not be enough to save me. Before fleeing, I had to at least try to put a stop to it.
I wanted to call my dad, maybe Julia or Annie. The fact remained however that I couldn't lean on any of them for this. My friends hated the building and wouldn't want to go back inside with me; and if I shared with them the truth, there was no way they'd even think about helping me out. My dad, comforting though his presence would have been, simply wouldn't have understood. He'd think me completely insane for wanting to vandalize some vacant apartment.
I was on my own.
Eventually, without my noticing it, I was nearing the Lamplight complex. Bright though the day was, the mere sight of those three grey buildings really brought the mood down. My steps slowed as I crossed into the parking lot. The row of parked cars looked out at me glumly from the faded spaces. In the grass behind them a pair of small birds suddenly took off into the air, squawking.
I ducked into building 3, setting my bag down in the commons area, near the mailboxes. I wasn't planning to be gone long, and had no urge to return to my own unit. I was simply going up to the top floor and getting the job done. Afterward, I'd call my dad and leave the place for good.
I re-did my ponytail, tightening it so as to keep stray hair out of my face, and then started into the stairwell. I hiked up the flights until I reached the top and then I stopped outside of apartment 11, its door closed and the pestilential quiet making my ears ring.
It's simple, I assured myself. Stick to the plan. Just go inside and take care of things. It's vital that you stop this thing before it hurts someone else. Or, if you don't... it may just follow you out of here.
I held my breath and turned the doorknob.
The door was locked.
“What the hell?” I muttered, giving it another twist and trying to jostle it open.
The door had been locked at some point over the past few hours. I leaned against the wall, wondering how it was possible. Sheldon had probably come through to work on the unit, had locked it up good and proper while I'd been at the hospital, visiting Cat. That was the likeliest explanation.
Standing in that dim stairwell, the wheels in my head were turning however, and I wondered if the spirit in this apartment hadn't locked the door to keep me out. It knows you're here and that you're onto it. It doesn't want you inside.
I paced around the landing for a beat, wondering how best I could get inside without causing a ruckus. And then I remembered that there was only one other person living in the entire building; an old man with poor hearing. I didn't want to leave a mess for Sheldon, however I needed desperately inside. When my untrained hand failed to force the lock with a hairpin—the movies make it look so damn easy—I decided to kick the door in.
I aimed the sole of my shoe between the knob and deadbolt and gave it a few solid kicks. The frame rattled and could be heard to splinter in a few spots, but the door wouldn't give. Standing in the unventilated stairwell, I'd begun to sweat, and now my kickboxing routine was making me overheat. I tried rushing into the door with my shoulder, but didn't make any progress except to develop an ache in my upper arm.
“Damn it, why won't you open?” I asked. I twisted the knob, shook it as hard as I could, but the door held fast.
I was running out of options. Perhaps I could return to my own apartment, find something to pry the door open with? I hadn't brought any tools with me, though I seemed to remember I had an old keychain screwdriver somewhere that I had used in tightening up the futon. The hinges in the door could be unscrewed, or the doorknob itself could be loosened, making it easier for me to get in.
Annoyed, I reared back and decided to give the knob one final kick. I buried my heel against the brass and threw my whole weight into it.
There was a pop as the deadbolt broke through its housing and the door fell open.
Panting, I stood against the railing and looked into the room. It was dark inside, the blinds keeping all but a sliver of the daylight from view. The smell of dust reached my nose from within, though mixed with it I thought I caught something else.
Rot.
I wiped at my brow and opened the door further, stepping through the threshold. Stick to the plan, I thought, looking across the empty room. Some hours previously, I'd woken up in this room, on the floor. The spot on the carpet where I'd lost control of my bladder was still damp, though upon further examination it appeared to have been scrubbed with some kind of cleaning solution. “Sheldon was here earlier, then.”
I turned towards the passage leading to the kitchen and bathroom, and suddenly felt disoriented. Something in the familiar scenery had changed since my visit that morning. There was something missing.
I staggered forward, looking to the right, then the left of that little opening, but no matter where I looked, the boxes of Evelyn's belongings never materialized. Her things were gone. “W-what is this?” I threw open cabinets, looked inside of the bathroom and canvassed the entire space. That very morning, when I'd come to in the unit, I'd seen boxes crammed with Evelyn's stuff. Books, toiletries and more had been housed in numerous boxes in the kitchen.
They weren't there any longer, however.
My heart was wrapped in panic. Sheldon... he must have taken her things out of the apartment...
The situation had taken an unforeseen turn, and I hated the thought of deviating from my plan. “The mirror,” I said, steadying myself against the wall. “I've got to handle the mirror, then.”
I crept towards the bathroom, reaching inside and flipping on the light. The switch was in the same spot as it was in my apartment, and the light came on with a flicker. I glanced around the cramped space for a moment, my eyes adjusting to the light, and then stood before the sink.
The mirror.
Spying my own sweaty reflection in the mirror did strange things to me. I felt a sickness stirring in the turbid waters of my gut and had to look away. It was all too real to me now. Standing before the very mirror where I'd seen Evelyn in my dreams was overwhelming to me. The claw marks in the wood were still there, and if I looked at them too closely I could still hear the sounds of her fingernails hitting the porcelain of the sink basin below.
Clink, clink.
You have to break it, I thought. Just hit it with something. Punch it, elbow it.
I glanced back into the mirror, catching my reticence in the form of a frown. In the corners of the thing I could still see those old fingerprints, likely Evelyn's, smudging the surface. I reached out and touched the mirror with a single finger, leaving a fingerprint of my own behind.
I wasn't a destructive person. Up until the moment I'd kicked in the door of this apartment I'd never gone out of my way to senselessly destroy anything in my life. But this mirror had to go. If there was any chance that I could hamper the spirit Evelyn had conjured by smashing it, then I had to do it. I balled my fist and prepared to give it a firm punch.
What if you cut yourself? I thought.
There was no time to worry about that.
I punched the mirror. Hard.
Pain blossomed across my knuckles, spread throughout the back of my hand and up my arm.
The mirror, though, didn't give. Except for a smudge on it where my fist had connected, which served to distort my reflection, it was unmarked. Panting, I massaged my sore knuckles and drew away from the mirror, looking into it incredulously. “What the hell are you made out of?”
It was then that I realized the reflection in the mirror was not wholly my own. Beneath the sweaty smudge on the glass, something else was stirring. Watching. What stared back at me from the mirror was a poor copy of my own face, the facial characteristics all bent and warped till I looked made of twisted putty. Where my eyes and mouth had been there was only blank, empty space now, and seemingly from within the medicine cabinet there came a loud pounding.
The light above me flickered and dimmed, and the frail sunlight coming in through the blinds in the main room was hidden by the passage of clouds.
The pounding, though, never waned.
The thing in the mirror changed before my eyes, donning a large, gaping mouth and eyes of unbelievable width. I backed away, struck the wall to my back, and scrambled out of the bathroom, nearly falling to the floor.
From the main room, I heard the sound of a door slamming, and of a lock being forcibly bolted.
The door to the studio was shut, and in the murk it looked as though the handle itself was gone. Feeling woozy, I staggered towards the entrance, beating on the door with my achy fist and searching for a knob where none existed. Try as I might, I couldn't get the door to budge; the very same door I'd forced open not minutes prior. The wounds I'd left in the frame, in the molding, had been smoothed over somehow.
The pounding in the bathroom suddenly ceased, and when it did so I turned, holding my breath. The sounds of a woman sobbing soon replaced it, and from the passage between the kitchen and main room I saw a shuddering form in black garb approaching.
It was Evelyn. Her face was pale and her eyes were red with tears. The flesh around her neck was bruised severely where the noose had cut into her. Falling onto her knees at the center of the room, she looked over to me, reaching out a single, shaking hand in the almost non-existent light. Despite the early hour, the apartment was dark as night, and even the air in the space seemed unnaturally still. The longer I stood there against the door, chest tightening, the more I suspected that the air was being let out of the room altogether.
Evelyn shook her head. “I tried... I tried to keep you out,” she blurted, raking her face with her fingers. “I tried to keep you away from here.”
It'd been Evelyn, then, who'd locked the door to the studio. Cat had been correct; Evelyn's spirit had been trying all this time to warn me away.
But I hadn't listened.
I was standing in the lion's den, had wandered in willingly.
Evelyn continued sobbing until a loud rustling noise sounded from the direction of the bathroom. Both the wailing specter and I turned to look as something emerged from around the bend.
Clutching her arms tightly, Evelyn gasped and then faded into the darkness. “It's here.”