Chapter Text
You never really gave it much thought as to how you would die. You knew it would be one day. Old age perhaps, in a care home surrounded by the people that loved you, a family you had created, who sobbed and grieved the loss of such a woman as yourself. Nobody really thinks about the way they would die, life too wrapped up to even consider it. But as your head bled profoundly, making it harder and harder to even think, the warmth of the red liquid draining your very body, it was starting to become a reminder that maybe your death wouldn’t be as peaceful as you had imagined, maybe then you wouldn’t be laying on the floor thinking about the ultimate end in the first place. Who thinks about death last minute other than a dying person, right? Because this is what you had planned on what was such a peaceful Wednesday night.
It all started with headaches, nosebleeds, memory loss and soon enough, you could only put the blame on your crippling mental health. You went to countless doctor appointments, complaining about each symptom and their only response was to drug you up on whatever pill they had on hand. With the fear that maybe in reality, you were spiralling, you followed orders and downed a handful of each separate pill from each separate bottle until you found yourself most nights knocked out on the couch.
‘I’m going to get better, this was just the start.’ Is what you told yourself when you began to notice things in the corner of your eyes, when you felt an uneasy feeling of someone watching you and now you were arranging appointments for better security systems inside your home. But when was it going to get better, when the letters began appearing under your door? Love notes of someone confessing themselves to you or when they would send you pictures of you inside your own home, asleep or even getting dressed. You see, feeling better wasn’t something that you could convince yourself so easily because the stress of it all snapped and got you. Losing weight was another step, then you could’ve sworn your hair was falling out and one night, you found yourself in the hall of your apartment complex, having no memory of it at all.
And now you were here, on your wooden floor, dying and desperately trying to fix your blurred vision in an attempt to call for some kind of help. You didn’t fall, no, you couldn’t have, because you felt the weight of something smack you around the head before you could even collapse.
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“I’m dropping out of school.” The table around you suddenly grew quiet, your father’s lips were pursed like he wanted to say something but before he even could, your mom was already throwing her cutlery down onto her plate.
“You’re what?” She said and before she could even give you a chance to explain yourself, she was off. “What? What do you mean? You were doing better? Your therapist told us! Everything changed, what happened?! What do you mean dropping out?! You devoted your life to this.”
“My therapist told you..?” you mumbled softly, letting your gaze drop to your plate. The food was barely touched, the chicken had been picked at from the nerves of even letting this conversation arise and you’d drank at least three full glasses of water before you could bring up this very topic.
Admittedly, you knew medical school wasn’t going to work out, it was too much stress load on your shoulders and you desperately needed a more stable job to push through actually paying your rent on time. Med school was unrealistic and simply put, you gave up.
“You can’t drop out! You put so much of yourself out there for this, we were so proud of you-“
“You were? So what, I drop out and now I’m nothing of a deadbeat daughter, right?” This happened way too regularly, you went round your parents house for dinner and one way or another, you’d wound up in an argument about some useless shit that more than likely would be forgotten about by tomorrow.
“Now you know, that is not what I meant,” your mom spoke in a stern voice and with your dad now awkwardly in the middle, he slowly poked his chicken breast with his fork as he listened in to what was unfolding around him.
“I need some time to myself, I need to go back to therapy, ideally a therapist that doesn’t hand out private information to their clients parents.” With that, you took one mouthful of chicken and chewed momentarily before standing and grabbing your jacket that hung on the back of your chair. Your mom followed suit in standing, your dad just about but by the time he actually stood you were already by the door with your jacket slipped around one arm and moving to the next. Your mom grabbed your shoulder and pulled you, abruptly holding you hostage for a moment as you turned to face her. Her one soft features had wrinkled given time, her hair had a few strands of odd white ones that she desperately tried to hide with cheap hair dye but no matter what, you could always see it poking through. Seeing your mom growing old was that reminder that life wasn’t going to stop and wait until you made up your mind about things, about how you wanted to live your life and leaving med school seemed like a better idea in your head when you thought about it for weeks on end.
“Your therapist spoke to us because you are our daughter, it is our duty as parents,” there was a waver in her voice, like an array of emotions were showing through that you couldn’t read off her face so well. Being her only daughter, you brought more stress upon this woman than you would’ve liked too but your relationship with your mom was always a pretty messy one. Hell, one time you refused to speak to each other for a month because of how stubborn you both were.
“Bullshit,” you spat, your lips wobbled into a frown as your head began to shake, you could hear the way each lie laced her very voice. “You palmed off some money to her, didn’t you? I’m not an idiot.” And there it was, your mothers silence which could only confirm your guilt. “I’m leaving, see you another time.”
As you finished peeling your jacket on, you turned the handle to the door and stepped out into the cold air. Autumn, a couple months prior to your attack. Cold, wet, dreary, the best weather in your opinion. As you walked down the porch steps of your mom’s house, the security light switched on as it alerted your presence and there, just out front you could see your car. It was a scrap of metal, nothing amazing, nothing expensive but it worked and really, that was all you needed. You could feel the eyes of your mom lingering on your very being as you got into the car and slammed the door shut. Truth be told, if she wasn’t standing at the door watching you as intently as she was now, you would’ve probably been punching your steering wheel for even allowing yourself into this very position in the first place.
Glancing over at your mom, your heart throbbed for a moment and you sucked in a steady breath before giving her a gentle wave, pushing the key into the ignition and letting your crappy car roar to life. That was something you never did, leave on bad terms. Fuck, mom could’ve dropped dead tomorrow and the last time you spoke to her was about some petty argument.
The drive back to your apartment was slow, you could’ve sworn luck was not on your side tonight because you were hitting every damned red light imaginable along the way. Just as your pulled up at the parking of your apartment block, a light drizzle of rain started and that was enough to tell you already that you should hit the hay and call it a day. Stepping up the stairs of the building block, you turned and headed toward the direction of your door. Considering you were short of money already, the apartment block wasn’t a great one. The neighbours were loud, the carpet of the halls felt sticky every time you stepped on it and your mail would always end up disappearing or ending up in someone’s else’s mailbox. It was whatever though, right? You had an apartment, a tv, bed and the basic needs like a toilet and shower. What it was. If you could get some work, all you needed was to put some money aside in your savings to hopefully find somewhere better.
Fumbling with the keys in hand, you found the right one and lifted it to push it inside the lock of your door before the sound of anther door opening on your right caught your attention. Anne. She was probably the only neighbour you liked, she was kind and sweet, the occasional arguing you could hear in her apartment was questionable but really, you never found yourself asking her about it because it was her business what happened behind her apartment door.
“Hey,” she called out and immediately you turned to her, giving a soft brief smile. You were not in the mood for a chat and Anne didn’t seem like she was in the best spot either. There were bags under her eyes and she seemed exhausted.
“Hi,” you replied, short and quick, hoping that maybe she’d get the hint you weren’t in much of a talkative mood.
“Got something for you.” That raised enough interest from you and your head perked up a little, a brow raised in a questioning manner. Before you could give a soft hum, she disappear momentarily like she was fishing for something behind her door and soon she reappeared. It was an envelope, a brown one exact and it looked like your name was written pretty poorly on it, like a child had done it.
“What’s this?” you found yourself asking as you reached out to take it from her hand. Anne gave a shrug.
“Dunno, was in your letter box. Thought I’d save you the effort of looking. Don’t worry, I didn’t open it, just wanted to hold onto it for you.” A kind enough gesture, sure, but did she really have to go through your mail box? Seriously, your mail boxes need keys and locks or something to prevent this from happening. Maybe Anne was just trying to be neighbourly, sure. With a soft smile, you held it up and approached back to your door before pushing it open with your foot.
“Thanks, Anne.”
Flicking the lights on and pulling the keys out the lock of the door, you used your back to close it behind you and immediately your interest was diverted to that brown envelope. Who the fuck was sending you mail? With no return address either? Not only that, it looked like a kid had written your name on the front. There was slight hesitation as you flipped it around to open it, like a sort of feeling you get when there’s paranoia of impending doom. Before you could let your mind ponder on it for any longer, you decided to rip it open and pull out the contents.
It was a white letter, folded and as you began to pull it from the envelope itself, you could see what looked like sharpie marks that had bled through the white paper. Narrowing your eyes for a moment, your heart was thumping. Why? Why were you so scared?
‘Don’t be so angry at your mom.’ The letter wrote, the same, sloppy handwriting that was written on the envelope to begin with and now your heart was really pounding. This was recent, too recent, like half an hour recent, surely? You just left your moms house, there was no way you saw anybody near your moms house and how did they know you were pissed at her? Questions flood your mind in a state of panic and now you felt your heart in your ass. Flipping the paper, frantically to look for more answers, you were left in the dark. Why were your hands trembling? Dropping the letter on the small table by the door, you swung it open and immediately began marching to Annes door. She had to have been connected to this, she took your mail to begin with. This all wasn’t making sense as your fist began to pound frantically against the wood of her door.
There was a beat of nothing, your foot tapping impatiently before you began to hound her door again. The fifth knock and suddenly the door swung open. Not all the way so you could look inside her apartment, just a fraction so her head and face were just about visible and squished between the door itself and the wall next to her.
“Holy, you okay? Knocking pretty-“ You cut her off, there was no time for blatant chit chat.
“That letter. Who gave it to you?” you were talking so fast that it felt like your words were slurring and your cheeks felt red, like the sheer panic was hitting you harder than you could’ve imagined. Was it really this big of a deal? Were you overreacting? Before your mind could blurt out more questions at Anne’s face, your noticed her nose bleeding and suddenly you felt like an asshole for not noticing it sooner. “Holy shit, your nose, you’re bleeding.” Anne lifted a finger quickly to touch her upper lip before taking a glance at her finger, like she was suspicious to even believe you.
“Yeah, it happens a lot.” Anne forced a smile, a smile you could so plainly see through and before you could begin hounding her with questions again, her face disappeared and you found the door closing on you. Shoving a foot between the door, it stopped abruptly before Anne’s face reappeared. She looked desperate, a look that almost screamed like she needed help and yet, you were so oblivious to notice.
“Anne,” you urged, the desperation laced your voice and she didn’t hesitate to notice the state that you were in but it wasn’t like she reacted in any way, that same, eery smile was plastered across her face. “That letter, where did it come from?” Anne’s lip trembled, like she was about to burst into tears and she quickly shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke in a hushed whisper, like people were listening to her and she was frantically looking up and down the hall in a paranoid manner. “I had to, I had to, otherwise they wouldn’t leave me alone, I had no choice, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your face contorted into one of confusion, everything she was saying made no sense, neither her mannerisms and how she was reacting. Your eyes were searching for a hopeless answer and quickly, Anne used her own foot to push yours out from her door and there your answer remained, with the door slammed shut in your face, leaving you to stare at the designs of the wood, speechless and lost.
Raising a hand, you ran it through your hair and felt the tremble. You knew this place was weird, but what the fuck was that? You hesitated, almost wanting to knock again and demand answers but now your brain was running through the words she spoke, desperately searching for a clue, an answer.
Little did you know, it had already ended for Anne. She was only passing this problem onto you and it all started with that brown envelope.
Weeks passed and then months, nobody had heard from Anne. The sound of her tv which was heard through your paper thin walls of the apartment was now silent, the soft arguing that sometimes broke out was now naught and you couldn’t help but think back on that night where you hounded her for questions. The hopeless apologies she gave you, the desperation in her voice and the way her nose started to bleed almost out of nowhere. A part of you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault, for almost harassing her over what seemed like nothing now. Sure, the letter was creepy but it actually didn’t feel like that big of an issue in the long run. You hadn’t received anymore letters and you had just about managed to convince yourself it was nothing but a prank.
Your worries for Anne only increased when each time you left your apartment, there was a smell that lingered and burned at your nostrils. It was foul. putrid, enough to make you want to heave and each time, you had to pull your shirt up and over your nose to try and block out the smell. Maybe it was a plumbing issue, which wouldn’t be a surprise considering this place was a shit hole but the smell lasted for weeks, to the point where your concerns and worries for Anne only increased. It had been almost two months now and as you laid in bed, the smell was drifting almost under your door and hitting you in the face. It was a smell you couldn’t even pinpoint, a smell that made you shiver. The only way you could really describe it was like rotting garbage except there was a hint of fruity, rotting undertones. Had the animals gotten at the garbage outside? No, that smell had to be lingering from Anne’s apartment and another week of this shit, you were gonna call quits.
Pushing the covers off your torso, you slid your feet off the bed and reached out for your phone. It was on the bedside cabinet and the bright light of the screen as you unlocked it hit your tired eyes harder than imagined. You opened up the dial pad and let your fingers hit 911. You hesitated, your gaze glossing over at the time at the top of your phone. It was late and if Anne was okay, this would be a pretty shitty wake up call for her. Your gut was telling you otherwise and soon enough, you found yourself on the phone reporting the crime.
Crime. Your mind was wandering now as they call responder was speaking but it was falling upon deaf ears. Was this a crime? You bit your lip and found yourself hanging up shortly after they confirmed that officers were on your way. Going back to sleep now would be a shitty thing to do and you were wide awake, so you picked up a crappy shirt that had holes and bleach marks scattered across it before slipping it on and over your frame. You took a moment to rub the sleep from your eyes before emerging from your room, taking in the surroundings of what your apartment looked like before heading to grab a glass of water. The water was short lived, you felt so sick at the smell that you could find yourself tasting it with each sip you took so decided to settle with leaving it on the kitchen counter. As you leant against the counter of the kitchen, something caught your attention.
Right there, on the coffee table that sat in your living room was that brown envelope. You froze for a moment. You threw that shit out, you were certain of it and now it was sat in your living room? Cautiously, you flicked on the lights to illuminate the living area before stepping over to the coffee table. The brown wrapping of the envelope was pristine, like it had never been torn and you reached down to pick it up and flip it over. It had been torn and upon pulling out the contents, it was the same letter you have received the night you confronted Anne about it. Now you felt a little crazy, why was it here? You hadn’t seen it in months and now it turns up again, a little reminder that it happened and that you shouldn’t forget about it.
There was a soft knock on your door and you felt your frame jump at the noise, quickly and almost carelessly dropping the envelope down onto the counter before approaching the door to open it. Two officers stood, tall and a little damp from what you assumed was from the light rainfall that was pattering against your window. The first officer that was closest to the door had almost buzzcut hair, a light shade of brown and his partner behind him had more longer hair but tied into a bun. They already seemed repulsed by the smell and it was a relief almost that you weren’t the only one who noticed it.
“Evening, ma’am,” the officer who stood closer to the door spoke and you gave a small nod to acknowledge them.
“Next door, you smell it too, I can tell by your face. Look, I don’t know, maybe a welfare check or something?” you felt a small urge like plea in your voice, like you actually cared about Anne despite your not so frequent interactions with one another. The officer gave a nod, turning to look at the direction of where Anne’s door was.
“Know much about her?” the officer with the man bun spoke now and you felt yourself awkwardly fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt.
“Her names Anne, she’s probably like.. late twenties I think? We don’t speak much,” you paused, there was hesitation and the officers took note of that. The envelope, what she said to you, you pursed your lips and gave a shrug. “That’s all I know.” The first officer who knocked gave a nod and turned to his partner.
“Let’s give a knock, no answer and we’ll break down the door. That smell..” his voice lingered and his partner spoke up.
“Only smelt it once at a suicide.” That stuck with you and your jaw clenched. Suicide? Was he saying this smell was.. a dead person?
Unsure on what to do, you watched and listened intently before the officer closest gave you a nod. “We’ll take it from here,” he said with a reassuring smile before stepping away. You hesitated, not closing the door as you heard them knocking and calling out for her name not far. You felt conflicted, would it be wrong to wait around and take a peek inside her apartment? Turning, you walked back to your room to slip on some shorts and make yourself at least half decent before sliding on some sliders and stepping out from your apartment. You left the door open for now, seeming as you were pretty close and let your arms wrap around your frame in an attempt for some warmth. The first cop withdrew his gun and giving a nod to his partner, his friend did the same and quickly they kicked the door down.
The smell was like nothing now the door was open and you found yourself gagging, eyes watering and you had to step away, attempting to wave a hand in front of your face in a desperate attempt for some clean, fresh air. The officers were more than appalled too but they reacted better than you had and began to step inside. Curiosity nagged at you, harder than anything and you found yourself taking slow steps toward the door of her apartment to peek inside.
It was dark and as the first cop tried the light switch, it was evident her power was out. Had she packed up and left? Maybe the smell was just rotting food from her fridge she forgot to clean out? But then you glanced at the side, where the shoe rack was and there was an array of beautiful shoes. From red heels, to grubby sneakers and wedgies that had a little bow on top. A little snippet of Anne’s life you never bothered to put interest into. As you edged closer, you could see that now the cops were using flashlights and that was when you saw it. No, not it, Anne.
A bloated corpse, her red hair tangled, her arms above her head as she laid on the floor by her coach. It looked like she was leaking body fluids as there was a soft, brown line around her body and only now, it explained the smell more than anything. Throwing your hands up to your mouth, you just couldn’t peel your eyes away. There was so much to look at. Maybe it was that she was actually missing facial features, maybe it was the endless and endless amounts of paper that were scattered across her floor, wall and table. Drawings of some kind, etchings, there were writings too but you couldn’t make it out and it wasn’t until you glanced at the counter in her kitchen, you noticed something too familiar.
A brown envelope, neatly tucked just above the endless amounts of paper and your heart was thumping. You could feel it in your chest, there was a lump in your throat and now suddenly, with the excess of saliva building up in your throat, you were running back to your apartment begging and hoping you would make the toilet in time to throw up. Your throat burned at the acid, your eyes watering as you tried to erase that imagine of Anne in your mind and now the guilt was eating away at you more than you could’ve imagine. You had to look again, you just had to and now you found yourself wiping your mouth clean and stepping back out your apartment to glance back in.
There was no sign of struggle, but who the fuck bludgeoned her face beyond recognition? You peeled your eyes away, a hand pressed to your forehead in disbelief. The first smell you should’ve called in, you should’ve knocked and checked before this happened. Her words now were repeating in your mind.
‘I had to, otherwise they wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sorry.’
Who was they? Was she murdered? Your forehead grew sweaty and as you found yourself gazing down the hall, your mind an array of questions and ‘what ifs,’ you saw a door open a couple doors down and it caught your attention.
You wouldn’t say you were well acquainted with all your neighbours, but you could always point out a new face when you saw one and that was just it. You’ve been in this apartment complex for at least nearly two years now and you hadn’t once noticed this stranger who was emerging from an apartment down the hall. Had you completely missed that he had moved in? Narrowing your eyes, you noticed tuffs of messy brown hair and his same, almost piercing brown eyes glaring back at you. There was something about his eyes, or the way he was looking at you in general that made you feel a pang of anxiety deep in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed back the urge to heave again.
“Hey..!” you called out, now wasn’t the time for introductions, sure, but you had to at least confide in a neighbour, right? You found yourself approaching and now this guy was at least taller than you, which already made you regret your decision to approach in the first place. As you grew closer, you saw the door quickly coming to a close and you reached your hand out to stop it. “Hey-“ you said again, a little softer and friendlier this time before a voice cut you off.
“N—.. Not interested, lady-..” You narrowed your eyes, that was pretty rude so you pressed again, not letting that door get shut in your face.
“You smelt it too, didn’t you? It’s not hard to miss-“ before you could even finish your sentence, the door swung open and you nearly fell flat before catching yourself with your foot.
The guy inside emerged, tall, maybe just about pushing six foot even and he had brown, messy hair. There were visible bags under his eyes and he was so pale, like he never left his apartment. Your eyes immediately noticed the gauze on the side of his face, covering just the corner of his lip and cheek and you pulled your eyes away to not seem rude. He took a look at you, his jaw clenched and he peered back down the hall. The officers had emerged and it seemed they were calling for some more units on the scene. Your gaze followed momentarily but you quickly looked back at him, it was hard to even catch a peek of what was inside his apartment as everything was dark. Not much of a surprise considering it was late.
“Sh— Shame.. isn’t it?” he spoke, his voice was husky and you noticed the the way he stammered and occasionally almost ticked as he stood in his doorway. You narrowed your eyes questioningly. “Well, she obviously k-k.. killed herself.” His words hurt harder than you imagined.
“How do you know-“ you were cut off again.
“I j-j-just moved in,” he seemed pretty bothered by something, you could maybe only assume it was his stammer. Then he clicked and his head twitched, you tried to ignore it. “Toby.” There was no handshake and awkwardly, you shuffled in your spot.
Pursing your lips, you forced a friendly smile. This was a weird night.
“Y/N.” Toby finally forced a smile but it didn’t seem very inviting, it was the opposite and now you felt a little uneasy. “I should go sleep, work in the morning..” you mumbled. You were unemployed, that was just an excuse to get out of this guys weird fucking aura.
“S-S-S-..” he clenched his jaw, clearing his throat. “Sure.”
Feeling his eyes on you, you turned and walked back to your apartment. Who the fuck was that guy and why was he giving super weird, creepy vibes? Before you stepped inside your apartment, you glanced at Anne’s door and your heart twinged a little. You felt so.. guilty and upset but you could only hope morning would give more answers to the endless questions you were going to plague yourself with. Shooting a glance back up at Toby, he quickly slammed his door shut and you felt that pang of uneasiness again. As you dragged your feet in and shut your own door behind you, taking note to lock it, your eyes slowly creeped back to that envelope. Before you could consider the endless possibilities of how this thing ended back up inside your apartment, you felt something drip down your upper lip and hit your shirt. It was warm and instinctively, you raised a finger to press against your lip.
It was blood.