Page 11

June

T he building was as run-down as I remembered—maybe even worse. Then again, how do you measure the decay of a place that was already a dump to begin with?

What the driver said wasn’t entirely true.

Some people did live here. Despite the city’s obsession with ghosts stories, there were always a few who didn’t buy into the whole haunted-building myth.

But superstition wasn’t the real reason people stayed away from Kam Sha.

No, the truth was far simpler—and far more dangerous.

Staying here without permission could cost you an arm, a leg, or even your life.

I led the way into a dimly lit hallway, the flickering fluorescent light above humming faintly.

At the end of the corridor, we stopped in front of the building’s only working elevator—if you could call it that.

The up and down buttons were grimy, worn smooth by years of use.

As we waited, the silence settled heavy around us, broken only by the distant grinding of machinery and the muffled noise of the city outside.

For once, Wendy was quiet. And oddly enough, I missed her sarcastic commentary.

With a loud, metallic groan, the elevator finally arrived. Its dented steel door screeched open, revealing a cramped, yellowed interior. The air inside was thick and stale, carrying the unmistakable stench of urine and cigarette smoke.

Wendy wrinkled her nose, tiptoeing in like she could avoid the invisible filth. “Ugh. Someone really couldn’t wait.”

I stepped inside, turning to face the rusted control panel. Rows of faded buttons glowed weakly under the dim light.

“Which floor is it?” she asked.

“Eighteenth.” I pressed the ‘17’ button, feeling Wendy’s gaze burning into me.

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Then why?—”

“Just trust me.”

The door groaned shut, trapping us in the eerie silence.

Wendy groaned in agreement, watching me carefully.

“Are you nervous?” I should have been. But I wasn’t sure I had the luxury of fear anymore.

I was nervous—but admitting it wouldn’t help either of us. Instead, I shrugged, lifting my shoulders to their highest point before letting them drop. I repeated the motion a few more times, as if it could shake off the growing tension crawling under my skin.

Ding .

The elevator shuddered to a stop at 3A. The metal doors slid open with a reluctant groan. There was nobody on the other side. The doors closed and the elevator shuddered again as it started to climb.

“What was that?” Wendy whispered, her voice tight.

“It always does that.” I kept my tone flat, unwilling to let her hear the unease creeping in.

She flinched, rubbing her arms as goosebumps spread across her skin. “Don’t your people think the number four is, like, super unlucky?”

“I wouldn’t know.” I lied.

Wendy fell silent again, but her hand didn’t stop moving—the faint sound of her boba straw scraping against plastic filled the heavy air.

Ding.

This time, we both jumped. My heart slammed against my ribs.

The doors creaked open at 13A—a floor the elevator had never stopped at before. A chill swept through the air as the gap widened, and this time, the doors didn’t close right away.

They stayed open… too long.

“I think I see someone.” Wendy’s voice barely rose above a breath.

I followed her gaze—and there it was. A shadow at the far end of the dim corridor. Small. Pale. Dressed in white. And moving.

My stomach twisted.

“Fuck,” Wendy hissed, her body tensing beside me.

The figured shifted, inching closer.

“It’s coming towards us. Close the door— close it !”

My hands refused to move. My brain screamed at them, but my fingers stayed frozen, useless.

“It’s a child…” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “What is a kid doing here?”

Wendy had taken over, jabbing the ‘close’ button like her life depended on it.

“It’s coming toward us.” Her voice trembled, raw with panic.

“Maybe it needs help.” I slapped her hand away from the panel—ignoring the sting in my palm—and stepped forward, ready to exit.

Before I could move, Wendy yanked me back just as the door groaned shut.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Her breath came fast, harsh against the stale air.

“How can you be so selfish? That boy—or girl—might need help. Have you even looked around?” My chest burned with frustration.

I didn’t specialize in fertility medicine by accident—I loved kids.

I wanted one of my own someday. The thought of a child left alone in a place like this… it tore at something deep inside me.

“Yes, I’ve seen it. Thank you very much.

” Wendy’s stone sharpened to a blade. She gestured at the cracked walls, the peeling paint, the graffiti scrawled in angry, jagged strokes.

“Have you seen this place? This place is a goddamn nightmare. It could be a trap—you know that, right? Have you seriously never watched a horror movie?”

“This isn’t a horror movie.”

“Well, it might as well be.”

Before I could fire back, a mechanical ding cut through the argument—the elevator arriving at 17. The doors rumbled open, revealing a long corridor swallowed by shadows.

“Now what?”

“This is as far as it goes.”

“Please don’t tell me we have to walk in there,” she muttered, her usual sarcasm falling flat against the weight of the moment.

I shook my head. “No.” My fingers hovered over the worn buttons. “Now I put in the password.”

I pressed 2—waited precisely two seconds—then 7. Another pause. Finally, 15.

“Is this it?”

“This is it,” I whispered.

Nothing happened.

“Are you sure?” Wendy asked.

I nodded, swallowing the rising lump in my throat. “I’m sure.”

I punched the buttons again—2, 7, 15—with the same precision. Nothing.

“What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know.” My voice broke on the last word as I wiped the tears that spilled without warning, hot and unwelcome. I cupped my hands over my mouth, trying to steady my breathing.

“I’m not walking out there.” Wendy’s words were firm, but I could hear the tremor hiding beneath them.

“I don’t know what do to.” The confession slipped out before I could stop it. My vision blurred, the weight of everything pressing down all at once.

Without a word, Wendy wrapped her arms around me. I collapsed into her shoulder—warm, steady and comforting in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

A few moments passed with nothing but the faint hum of the elevator filling the silence between us.

“Are you sure your ex still lives here?” she whispered, her breath warm against my hair.

And there it was—the question I had been too scared to ask myself.

What if Dannie didn’t live here anymore?

What if he had moved on? There were other ways to find them.

Hell, we could’ve asked the old couple at the tart shop.

They would know someone who knew someone. Maybe they even knew him personally.

But no. I thought I could just waltz in here like the old days. Like nothing had changed. Like he’d still be waiting.

Stupid.

I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to meet Wendy’s gaze. “I guess we either leave… or find out for ourselves.”

Her brown eyes searched my face, softening as she took a shaky breath.

“What do you want to do?” She whispered. “I’m okay with whatever you decide… but, just so you know, I’m not going down any dark corridors.”

A shaky laugh escaped me despite everything. “Fair enough.”

I reached for the ‘open’ button and pressed it with more force than necessary. “Hold the door for me, then.”

Wendy’s fingers slipped over mine, taking over.

With the torchlight from my phone cutting through the dimness, I wandered down the long corridor. Most of the doors lining the walls were shut tight, though a few stood slightly ajar, their dark gaps hinting at a world I wasn’t sure I wanted to see.

With every step, I braced myself for the worst—the creak of a door opening, a figure lunging out to grab me.

A small, irrational part of me worried that something far worse—something not human—might slip through the cracks.

If a ghost decided to chase me, Wendy would probably save herself and leave me behind. And honestly, I wouldn’t blame her.

I shook off the thought and pressed forward, the sound of my footsteps muffled by years of dust and neglect.

The air was thick and stale, carrying a faint metallic tang that clung to the back of my throat.

At the end of the hallway, just as I was about to turn back, something unexpected cut through the silence.

Music.

I froze. My heart thudding hard against my ribs.

“Can you hear that?” I shouted over my shoulder.

Wendy shouted something back, but her words were distorted. I strained my ears, focusing on the faint melody drifting through the corridor—unmistakably familiar.

Beyond.

It was one of Dannie’s favorite bands. I could still remember teasing him about their name sounding like Beyonce.

He didn’t find it funny. Instead, he’d launched into a passionate explanation about the band’s legacy—the tragic death of their lead singer and how the group fell apart afterward.

That sadness, he said, made their music unforgettable.

My pulse quickened. He was here. He had to be.

I turned and hurried back toward Wendy. My footsteps echoing through the corridor as fragments of memories tangled with the music in my head.

“He’s here,” I announced, stepping back into the lift.

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

“I can hear his music,” I pointed toward the darkness, my finger trembling slightly. “But he’s obviously changed the password.”

Wendy’s expression shifted—half curiosity, half exasperation. She tilted her head, one brow arching in that familiar, playful way.

“I always wanted to say this…” She let the words hang for dramatic effect, her smile quirking at the edges.

I sighed, already regretting asking for her help.

“You better have a good idea,” I warned, pausing long enough to let my voice drop into a low, serious tone. “A fucking great one.”

“Try your birthday.”