The Woman in Apartment 14
The first time Sarah Bennett met Daniel, he was carrying one of her boxes up the stairs. “You know there’s an elevator,” he said.
Sarah looked at the box in his arms. “You know that’s mine.”
He smiled. “I figured that out when I saw your name on it.”
She looked him over. He was tall, dark-haired, and probably a few years younger than she was. He wore faded jeans and a gray T-shirt, and there was something irritatingly confident about him. “Do you make a habit of stealing women’s possessions?”
“Only when they’re too stubborn to ask for help.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“I noticed.”
She laughed despite herself. “I’m Sarah.”
“Daniel.”
They reached the third floor. Sarah pointed toward the door at the end of the hallway. “Which apartment?” she asked.
“Fourteen.”
She stopped. “You’re in Apartment 14?”
Daniel’s expression changed. “Yes.”
“I thought it was empty.”
“It is.”
Sarah frowned. “Then where do you live?”
He smiled. “Fourteen.”
Before she could ask what that meant, he set the box outside her apartment. “Welcome to the building.”
Then he walked away. Sarah watched him disappear around the corner. “Strange man,” she muttered.
Three hours later, she found the letter. It had been pushed beneath her door. There was no envelope. No stamp. Just her name written across a folded sheet of white paper. Sarah Bennett
She opened it. You don’t know me, but I know you. Please don’t open the door when I knock. Sarah stared at the words. Then she laughed. “Very funny.” She threw the letter into the trash.
At 2:14 that morning, someone knocked on her door. Three slow knocks. Sarah woke instantly.
She sat up in bed. Another three knocks. She remembered the letter. Her bedroom seemed suddenly colder. She got out of bed and walked quietly into the hallway. “Who’s there?” Nothing.
She looked through the peephole. The hallway was empty. Then she heard a woman’s voice. “Sarah?”
She stepped backward.
“Please.”
The voice sounded frightened.
Sarah didn’t answer.
The woman knocked again. Three times. Then silence.
The next morning, Sarah found Daniel in the laundry room. He was leaning against a washing machine, drinking coffee.
“You look terrible,” he said.
“You look irritatingly awake.”
“I sleep well.”
“I don’t.”
He studied her face. “What happened?”
Sarah hesitated. “Someone knocked on my door last night.”
Daniel’s smile disappeared. “What time?”
“2:14.”
He put down his coffee. “Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Sarah stared at him. “Why?”
Daniel looked toward the laundry room door. “Because whoever was outside wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“Try again.”
He looked at her. “Apartment 14.”
Sarah folded her arms. “What about it?”
“I told you. Nobody lives there.”
“You said you live there.”
“I do.”
She stared at him.
Daniel sighed. “Come with me.”
They walked upstairs. Daniel stopped outside the dark green door marked 14. He pulled a key from his pocket.
Sarah looked at him. “You really live here?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
He unlocked the door. Inside was not an apartment. It was a narrow hallway. Old-fashioned wallpaper covered the walls. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. The air smelled faintly of roses.
Sarah stepped inside. “Where’s the furniture?”
Daniel closed the door. “That’s the problem.”
She turned. “What problem?”
“Every time I bring something into this apartment, it’s gone the next morning.”
Sarah looked at him. “You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He smiled. “I was hoping you’d stay skeptical.”
She stepped closer. “Why?”
“Because people who believe too quickly don’t usually survive this place.”
Sarah’s smile faded. “Survive?”
Daniel reached toward her face.
She flinched.
He stopped. “You have something in your hair.” He gently removed a small piece of white paper.
Sarah took it from him. Her name was written on it. There were five words.
She knows you are here.
Sarah looked at Daniel. “Who is she?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Daniel.”
He finally said, “Evelyn.”
“Who was Evelyn?”
“She lived here in 1996.”
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared.”
Sarah remembered the photograph she had found online. A young woman standing outside Apartment 14. Dark hair. Pale skin. A face that looked disturbingly familiar. “What did she look like?”
Daniel looked directly at her. “Like you.”
Sarah felt a chill. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.” He walked farther into the apartment. Sarah followed.
They entered a bedroom. There were photographs covering the walls. Hundreds of them.
Sarah stopped. Every photograph showed her. As a child. At sixteen. At twenty-five. Yesterday.
She stepped closer to one. It was of Sarah was standing outside the building and Daniel standing beside her.
She looked at him. “Where did these come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“Probably.”
She turned sharply.
“You’ve been in here before.”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Too many.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked at the photographs. “Because I was looking for you.”
Sarah’s heart skipped. “Why?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped toward her. They were only inches apart. “You should leave.”
“Why?”
“Because every person who gets close to me ends up involved in this.”
Sarah looked into his eyes. “Maybe I’m already involved.”
“You are.”
“Then maybe I should know what I’m involved in.”
Daniel’s expression softened. “Sarah, if I tell you everything, you’ll never trust me again.”
She smiled faintly. “I don’t trust you now.”
“That’s probably wise.”
She kissed him. It wasn’t planned. It was brief. When she pulled away, Daniel looked stunned.
Sarah smiled. “Now I really don’t trust you.”
He laughed.
Then the apartment went completely silent. A knock came from the bedroom door. Three slow knocks.
Sarah and Daniel stared at each other. Another three. Daniel whispered, “Don’t answer.”
The bedroom door slowly opened. A woman stood on the other side. She looked exactly like Sarah. But older. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder, and tears ran down her face.
Sarah couldn’t move.
The woman looked at Daniel. “You brought her back.”
Daniel went pale.
Sarah turned toward him. “Brought me back?”
He said nothing.
The woman looked at Sarah. “Don’t listen to him.”
Sarah stepped forward. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled sadly. “Evelyn.”
Daniel grabbed Sarah’s hand. “We have to go.”
She pulled away. “No.”
“Sarah—”
“No. You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Daniel stared at Evelyn.
Then he whispered: “Because she was my mother.”
Sarah looked from Daniel to Evelyn.
The woman shook her head. “No.”
Daniel looked confused.
Evelyn continued. “That’s what he believes.”
Sarah’s stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
Evelyn stepped into the room. “I was never Daniel’s mother.”
She looked at Daniel with something resembling pity. “He doesn’t remember what happened.”
“Remember what?”
Evelyn pointed toward the wall of photographs. “Ask him who you were thirty years ago.”
Sarah turned toward Daniel. His face had gone white. “Daniel?”
He backed away. “I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
Evelyn smiled. “You always say that.”
The lights flickered. Every photograph on the wall changed. Sarah looked at them.
The pictures no longer showed her. They showed Daniel.
As a child.
As a teenager.
As a young man.
Then Sarah saw one photograph that made her blood run cold. It showed Daniel standing beside Evelyn. And between them stood a little girl. Sarah.
The photograph was dated: October 14, 1996.
Sarah whispered: “That was the year Evelyn disappeared.”
Daniel stared at the photograph. “I’ve never seen that.”
Evelyn shook her head. “Yes, you have.”
The apartment began to tremble. Somewhere downstairs, a clock struck thirteen.
Evelyn stepped backward toward the open doorway. “Sarah, you have until morning.”
“Until morning for what?”
Evelyn looked at Daniel. “To decide which one of us you believe.”
Then she disappeared. The door slammed shut. Sarah turned toward Daniel. He looked frightened. For the first time since she had met him, he seemed completely helpless.
“What happens in the morning?” she asked.
Daniel looked at the clock. “Apartment 14 chooses.”
“Chooses what?”
“Who gets to leave.”
Sarah stared at him. “And who doesn’t?”
Daniel nodded.
Sarah took his hand.
She wasn’t sure whether she was comforting him or herself.
Outside the apartment, someone began knocking. Three slow knocks. Then a woman’s voice whispered through the door. “Sarah.” A pause.
“Don’t let Daniel leave.”