Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I know why my neighbors are GOING MISSING. I'm next | Scary Stories

Episode Date: May 20, 2024

There's something TERRIBLY WRONG with my apartment. Story from dmackay1981 Make sure to check out more of their work at dmackay1981  Cover Art from huleeb                Original Post: The New Room : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I know why my neighbors are GOING MISSING. I'm next          For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

I've had a lot of regrets, and finding that strange room in our new apartment. It's my biggest one. It was connected to our hallway by a single white door. There was fresh paint on the walls, still sticky. The thick carpet looked newly installed. Everything was a dull cream color lit by a single bulb without a lampshade. No furniture of any kind, no windows either. It was quiet inside, warm.

There's a faint metallic smell too. At a gas, the room was 15 feet to each side and maybe 10 feet floor to ceiling. And of course, it wasn't there the day before. But I shouldn't start here. It began before all this. It began with the body. Everything I'm going to tell you. happened in July of last year.

We moved into the apartment on the first, just my son and I. It was in a terrible part of the city. Every street had abandoned buildings with boarded windows. There was trash on the sidewalks, angry faces in the windows, and sirens every night. You know the kind of place.

I remember our first day there. I held my son's hand as we navigated around an unconscious drunk in the entrance. Then up to the stone stairs, which smelled like vomit. It's okay, I told him, as we reached the first floor, feeling him pull himself closer to me. It's not going to be forever, I said. The whole building was falling apart.

The doors were rotting with water damage, locks were broken, the walls were crumbling and everything was covered in mold. The ground floor was deserted. I think it had been a furniture store, but the sign was too faded to be sure. There were three more levels, two apartments on each. We would be alone on the first floor. The second floor had single men staying on either side. An unemployed slob directly above us and a skinny stoner who worked nights across from him.

The top floor was also deserted. Judging by the dust on the stabs, it had been like that for quite a while. We reached the door of our new, hopefully temporary home. The paint was flaking off, and the lock had clearly been replaced more than once. I knocked, and I gave my son a smile as we waited. He held my hand tighter and tried to smile back. Six years old already, I thought. He had long, skinny limbs and dusty blonde hair.

Very quiet and shy around strangers. It felt like yesterday he was only learning to walk, stumbling into my arms. Our new landlord wrenched the door open, snapping me out of the memory. Hey, he said, cigarette hanging from his mouth. Come on in. We followed him into the poorly lit interior. Two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom were connected to the living room by a narrow hallway. The kitchen, if you could call it that, was part of the living room.

The floor had been stripped back to the floorboards, except the bathroom, which had cracked and worn tiles. The ceilings were discolored. By what I guessed were years of cigarette smoke. The furniture was broken or stained or both. The windows were so dirty. The sunlight had to fight its way through. I'm Joseph, and this is my son Nathan, I said, looking around. It was Kenny, wasn't it? Yeah. He said, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray.

Look, man, let's not screw around. This place, it's a wreck, and I don't have the cash to fix it. So, for you, it'll be cheap as hell and available now. I'm guessing that's exactly what you're after or you wouldn't even be here, right? A rush of embarrassment struck me. My son was beside me, and this was the best I could offer him. It was my job to look after him, and this is where we ended up. So, if you want it, he continued.

It's yours. What you see is what you get. Don't mess me around. I won't mess you around, all right. Paperworks on the table. He said, I didn't want to take it. I wanted to tell him no, that we could find somewhere better, that even on my terrible salary, I could find a way to do better for us.

It would have been a lie, and we both knew it. So I signed. Why were we there? How did we end up broke and desperate? It was the end of a five-month battle to rebuild our lives. clearly with limited success. Nathan's mother, Natalie, my ex-wife, had walked down on us and took every penny we had. I doubted we'd ever see her again.

Soon after that, had lost my job and struggled to get another. We were forced to leave our home and sell everything we had. So much of our lives had just vanished overnight. You wake up one morning and everything. Everything has changed. In those two decades I was with Natalie, I had pulled away from friends and family, deleted contacts, and never made new ones. My grandparents had passed away, and then my parents in the last few years. Trying to make our lives work day to day, it filled my every waking moment.

Gradually, everyone I knew had gone from my life until it was only the three of us. And then she left. I tried to treat it as a clean slate. Fresh start for both of us. But it was not that easy. You can leave people behind, but the memories aren't so easy to let go of. Natalie was always there in my head. Old arguments wound up when I closed my eyes.

She had a drinking problem, had for a long time. When you're alone with your thoughts, it's easy to take on blame, take on responsibility for every single problem. It's hard to be objective about these things when you're in the thick of it. She used to tell me when she was drunk that I'd be trapped in my dead-end ways forever, that I'd wasted both our lives. I didn't get angry. I'd grown up with my father's constant raging. I was terrified by the thought of turning out like him.

So I tried to be patient and understanding, not bitter or resentful, and I failed. But with her gone, I found myself angrier than ever. I was cursing under my breath at all those memories, trying not to think of her at all. And that's where we were. The problems with a neighbor directly above us started that week. I think it was Tuesday night we first heard him, shouting and stamping his feet. The next night, I saw the landlord coming into the building and heading up the stairs. A minute later, a shouting match blew up in the corridor above.

Eventually I heard the door close and can he leaving. The next night at 12.45 a.m., the screaming began. Doors were being slammed and what sounded like every item of furniture being smashed. And then the running started. A relentless hammering of feet on the floorboards for hours. It was insane. There were only a couple of rooms, I thought. Where the hell was he running?

Just what was he doing the lap after? after lap around the place? I might have let it go, for another day or something at least, just to avoid the inevitable confrontation and stress. But it woke Nathan. Having my son scared awake was too much. I'd picked up my phone to call the police when it finally just stopped. Silence at last.

The faint sounds of the city at night drifted back into hearing. To hell with it, I thought. It's 3 a.m. and I'll deal with it in the morning. I told myself I would go to his door, give him a chance to explain and apologize. If not, fine, I'd call the police and tell the landlord. Unlikely they could do anything, but what else could I do? The next morning, I got Nathan ready for school and then asked him to wait five minutes while I went upstairs. As I climbed the steps, I heard a knock ahead of me.

The landlord was already there, banging on the door and looking real pissed. This guy wake you up, too? He asked. I got people phoning me. It's who in the damn morning about him. I am sick of this, he said. Yeah, he did, I replied. He woke up my son.

Kenny didn't seem to actually be listening to me. He started kicking the door. Screw him. I know he's in there. He muttered, pulling a ring of keys from his coat. I was about to make an excuse to escape back downstairs when the door swung open and we both saw what was inside. The apartment was trashed. Every chair broken, the TV faced down, every item pulled from drawers and cupboards and just thrown around, and in the center of it all, what had once been the tenant.

His bloated gray corpse lay on its side, one arm stretching towards us. There was a ring of stained carpet around him. He looked as if he'd been dead for months. I saw a fly crawling on his lips, and I realized I was holding my breath. And then the smell hit us, pushed out by the summer heat. Nausea washed through me, and I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself. I wasn't the only one affected by it, I realized. Kenny threw up against the wall behind me.

As I sucked in a breath, I looked down and I saw my foot inside the door, just an inch over the threshold. It felt wrong for some reason. I can't. Hard to describe. I pulled it back like I'd been stung. The burning acidic odor began to fill the hallway. Oh, not more of this crap, Kenny said.

I can't take any more of this. I'll be finished. He turned away and raised his phone to his ear. I heard him calling for police in an ambulance, but his voice sounded miles away. I went back downstairs to my son. More of this crap, I thought. What the hell did that mean? I had to give a statement to the police, as basic as it was.

It made Nate late for school, but I was off that day, so didn't miss work. The landlord's words had stuck with me. So as soon as I was alone, I searched for our building online. It didn't take long to find what I was looking for. The previous year, a single mother and her daughter had gone missing from their apartment on the top floor. The guy who had lived opposite, an unemployed teacher, had been found unconscious in their home. He never confessed and they never found the bodies. I kept searching, and I found out he died before the trial. Natural causes.

This was a nightmare. I should have checked this before we moved here. I'd let Nathan down bringing him here. I had to do better. The photograph of the missing woman and her daughter in the article stared back at me. I'll find us somewhere else, I told myself. I'll get more shifts at work and I'll find us somewhere else. I remember dinner with Nathan that night, fish fingers and some canned vegetables.

Not exactly gourmet cuisine, but it was all we could afford. The conversation. It went like this pretty much every night. Can you try to close your mouth when you're eating, Nathan? I said across the table. Oh, sorry, he mumbled out. I genuinely think I've told you a thousand times. I'm sorry, he said again, looking down at his plate.

And stop saying you're sorry about every little thing, please. I'm... I'm... Okay. He stared down at his food in silence on the edge of being upset. I should apologize, I thought. I was too hard on him. Always too hard on him. Hey, I launched a forced smile.

Just try your best, all right? Now, tell me about your day. Come on, don't go in a funk. I'm not. Okay, okay. You're not in a funk. What'd you get out to today? I was school.

I tried to keep the conversation going. Fine. Just fine? It was like drawing blood from a stone. Always was. Was I like that at his age? I was probably worse, I thought. Dad?

Nathan looked up at me. Yeah? Do you... Do you miss mom? I paused. Think about how he feels, I told myself. Don't be angry. Don't be angry with him.

If you get angry right now, that's your fault, not his. And don't lie to him. Not ever. Do you miss her? I asked. Yeah. He was crying, I saw, silently crying, hiding his face. My first reaction was, I can't handle more of this, not tonight.

And then I thought, no, for God's sake, what is wrong with me? He's a little boy crying because he misses his mom and I'm his dad. I should stop being such an asshole. He doesn't understand what she was like. He just misses his mom. I went around the table and I pulled him into an awkward hug. He slumped into my arms. I remember thinking how small he seemed again.

as if he was shrinking with every sob. It's okay, I told him. I tried to sit him back on the chair as I spoke, but his arms were tight around me. I won't leave you, okay, not ever. I promise. He didn't reply, but the crying stopped. It wasn't what he wanted to hear.

I knew that. He wanted me to tell him his mother was coming back, but I wasn't going to lie to him. Come on now, crying's not going to help. I tried to sound as positive as I could. Chin up, wipe your face. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve, and I went back to my seat as I spoke.

Let's change the subject, I thought. So you hardly told me anything about school today. What's been happening? It took a minute to get him talking. but he told me a little about his friends and his teacher. We were just finishing up when we were interrupted by noises from the floor above. Voices. Something heavy being moved across the floor.

Please, I guessed. Or whoever it was that dealt with removing bodies. What happened upstairs? He asked. Oh, you know, grown-up stuff. I said, trying to act casual. Huh? Nothing, Nate.

Please stop saying, huh? You heard me. I know you heard me. Sorry. He said back. Nate, forget it. Just finish your dinner. I was too impatient with him, and I hated myself for it.

All the stress in my life. He didn't cause any of it. If anything. He was the only bright spot. I had. Being tired and irritable was not an excuse. After dinner, I could hear him playing in his room as I washed the dishes. I should go in, I thought, spent some real time with him. Maybe play with his toys together. A board game. Hide and seek? I don't know anything. I'll regret not doing it when I'm an old man. A few more years and he won't even want to

anymore, won't want to play, pretend, or have me read to him. He'll have new friends and a thousand other things I can't be a part of. I wanted to go to him. I did. But I was exhausted. I was always exhausted. Trying to get him to sleep in his own room for a full night took years, I told myself. So I should savor a bit of peace and quiet.

Nathan always hated being away from me and his mother, even if it was just only a different room. Just hated being alone. He's a people person, I thought. Always will be. Nothing like his dad. My eyes were heavy, body aching. Even with every window open, the summer heat was draining.

The TV chattered away. I sunk under the couch, told myself he was fine on his own. The sounds of my son getting ready for school woke me up. I hardly remembered putting him to bed, never mind going to my own. Weak sunlight filtered through the dirty windows as I reached for my phone to check the time. Dad? I heard him push my door open and peek inside. Yeah, yeah, I'm up, I'm up, I'm coming.

Dad, Dad!" There was an urgency in his voice. Yeah, yeah, I said I'm coming. There's a new door. I sat up trying to clear my head. What the hell was he talking about? I pulled on a shirt and I stepped out into the hall where he was standing. And there was indeed a new door.

See, he said. I didn't know what to say. Was this, what, I don't know, some kind of joke? How could I have missed this? I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. This was impossible. Nate watched me as I reached out for the handle and pulled the door open. And there it was.

The new room? I stepped inside and I turned in a little. slow circle. My mind was working overtime and coming up with nothing. But I still had to get an Ate to school, then myself to work. I checked the time on my phone again, and I noticed there was no reception in there. That only added to the strangeness. When we left, I stopped in front of our building, and I looked up at our floor. It didn't even look as if another room would fit, but in all honesty, it was pretty hard to tell. It rolled around in the back of my mind all day at work.

Should I tell someone? Who, the landlord? I, that wasn't going to be a fun conversation. When we'd taken the place, it had said two bedrooms, hadn't it? Kenny was not the type of guy to mischarging for an extra room. Had he made a mistake? Had we both? And then how did Nate miss it too?

I was doubting myself, I realized. I've been doing it for 20 years. I mean, maybe someone snuck in and added another room. Okay, yeah, that was ridiculous, but really, though, what could I do? Where did it come from? Nate asked that night, leaning inside the doorway to the new room. room. I pulled them back and closed it and then felt stupid for doing so. I mean, it was just an empty room. What was I pulling him back from? We, uh, I don't know, we just must have missed it,

I replied. Weird, huh? He didn't look convinced. We were both tired from everything that's been happening lately. I began. Lots of stuff going on. I guess we just, we just, didn't notice. He looked for me to the door, and then back. Really? He asked. Yes, Nathan, really. As I watched him finish his meal that night, my mind drifted back to those news stories, that teacher from the top floor, the missing woman and her daughter. The sudden blare of a car horn, and she, shouting from outside snapped me out of it. There was a smash of glass and the sounds of a scuffle.

I went over and closed the window. I need to get Nate away from here, I thought. It was incredibly warm that night, the worst of the summer, an oppressive heat and humidity. Even the usual noises of the city were dampened, like the energy was just sucked from the street. I was drifting in and out of sleep. Nights like that always seemed darker.

The silence heavier. Nate had fallen asleep quickly in his room. I was going to stay up, but the heat had drained me. A shaft of moonlight cutting across my bedroom was the only light. And then I heard a door slam shut. The shock of the sound ran through the apartment. I snapped awake and sat up in bed, heart racing, and I peered into the dark hallway. Silence.

My bedroom door was still open. Always was in case Nate shouted for me. I slid out of bed, and I put on the lights. There hadn't been another sound since the slam. I went to Nate's room and softly opened the door. There he was, still fast asleep. His blue dinosaur nightlight illuminating his bed. I looked around his room.

What was I expecting to find? I hadn't imagined. Had I? I went to the front door. It was locked and the chain was on, just like I'd left it. Maybe I'd been dreaming. But there was still one other door. I'd turned to the new room.

I'd close that, didn't I? The silence seemed to press me as I stood there. I grabbed the handle, and I opened it. Nothing. It was dark and empty inside. I closed it tight, annoyed in my own nerves, a grown man afraid of a bump in the night. Stupid.

It had been the wind, I thought. All the windows were open, weren't they? There wasn't much of a breeze, but still. That metallic, tinny smell was in the hall now, though, I thought. Or maybe I was imagining that, too. I recheck that every door was close tight. I looked in every corner of every room again, and then I lay back in bed wide awake.

It took a few more hours of fighting the heat before I got back to sleep. The next day was Saturday, when Nathan stayed with the only family we still had, Natalie's parents. Sadly, they had never cared much for either of us. They aren't always nice to me, he said, sounding worried, as if you might get in trouble for saying it. I know, Nate, I know. I'm sorry, okay, but we don't have anyone else.

It's hard to explain, but... but we need to have somewhere you can go so I can work. And it's always good to have people you can be with, and I don't know, in case anything ever happens to me. Why would that happen? He said. And I realized my mistake. I shouldn't have said that, I thought.

It won't, son. It won't happen, okay. We just have to be careful. We get to be prepared. Just in case, you know. Can't I just stay with you today? He said, grabbing my hand. No, you can't stay with me.

Come on, Nathan, we talked about this. I'm sorry. I know it isn't much fun, but it's only for a day. Please, Dad, can't? No means no, okay? I thought my voice was too harsh again. He looked like he was going to cry. but he held back, trying to hide the waver in his voice.

Okay, everything was hard now, I thought. No easy days. No easy decisions. The room kept edging its way into my mind as we were getting ready. Just another thing to worry about. Something kept drawing my eyes back to it, making me look. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, There was an urge to open the door again. To step inside.

I glanced down the hallway. The door was lying open. Only an inch or so, but it was open. Nathan, did you open that door? Huh? He looked up from tying his shoelaces. You heard me. Did you open that door?

No. He sounded scared just to answer me. I felt a rush of guilt. Was I really that bad to him? To scare him so much that he was afraid to answer a simple question. I didn't shout at him, only once or twice when he did something seriously dangerous. He shouldn't ever be scared, not of me. Not in his own home.

Okay, son. It's okay. All right. Go finish getting ready, okay? I waited till he was out of sight before walking slowly down to the new door and looking inside. The room seemed bigger now.

I stared. It was a different shape, too. I wasn't imagining this. There was an indent on the far wall. It was about a foot deep. and it hadn't been there before. It was like the beginnings of a new corridor. It was impossible.

I stepped in, not believing what I was seeing. There was a sound now on the edge of my hearing, but I couldn't make it out. It was like an echo of a voice, a woman's voice. When I closed my eyes, it almost sounded like Natalie. No, I told myself. Just my imagination. Filling the silence with my own thought, the stress was making me paranoid. Dad?

Huh? Oh, sorry, Nate. I got distracted. I took one last look around the beige walls. We got back late that night. Nate was falling asleep in my arms as I carried him upstairs. Despite everything that was going on, when I sat us both down on the couch, I started drifting off too.

I don't know what woke me, but suddenly I was wide awake and alert as if I never slept at all. In the hallway, I saw the door of the new room swing. slowly open. There was no sound. I froze in place. A flickering shadow was cast into the hall, and then the light went out. I heard movement. Someone was in there. It wasn't my imagination. It wasn't stress. I know what I saw and what I heard. I glanced at Nate. You have. You have. You still fast asleep. I got up as quietly as I could, slipping my shoes off to avoid making a sound. There was a kitchen knife lying out on the drying board. I picked it up, trying to keep my eyes on the door. The lights flickered again. I gripped the knife as I crept down the hallway.

Someone was in there. I reached the doorway and inched forward. I looked inside, and there was no one there. No one. Only the room, but it had changed again. There was a new hallway now, at least 20 feet long, running out far beyond where the building would stop. It was impossible.

I moved inside as the light clicked on and off, knife still in my hand. I saw a mark on the wall. A long unbroken line, maybe four feet off the ground. It hadn't been there before I was sure of that. I knelt down alongside the line. I ran my finger across the surface. It looked like cran. The tinny smell was in the air again.

My eyes were pulled to the end of the corridor. It was like I was being watched. A voice on the edge of hearing. The lights flickered off, on. There was something in the air. I don't know how to explain it properly, being inside that room. I was afraid. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

But there was something. more, an urge to keep moving forward to follow the corridor. I was pushed by invisible hands into the dark. I stepped forward. Dad? Oh, my God, Nathan, you scared the hell out of me. I kept the knife out of sight as I turned, slipping it inside my shirt so he couldn't see it. Dad, you okay?

I realized I was shaking. Were you in here, Nathan? Did you, did you wake up since we came home? No, he said, sounding confused. Nate, this is important, okay? Tell me the truth. I am, Dad. What's wrong?

Nothing, nothing, it's fine. You don't—I'm sorry, you didn't do anything wrong. Come here. I snatched him up in a hug, and I carried him out. I tickled him until he started laughing. I went back as soon as he was in the living room, and I closed the door, and then I pulled the chair out of the kitchen, and I braced it against the handle. I checked to make sure the front door and windows were locked again, and then I checked every room. cupboard and behind every door.

I felt like I was cracking up, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise. Hey, Nate, you want to sleep in the big bed tonight? We can watch a movie. I didn't want him out of my sight. Yeah, he cheered, running up for a hug. He fell asleep beside me, maybe half hour later, still, exhausted. But I lay there wide awake for what must have been half the night. Is this what it felt like to lose your grip on sanity, I thought, when stress and anxiety become

too much? Experiencing things you know are impossible. I mean, it couldn't be real, could it? And then, what did that mean? It couldn't all be in my mind if nays. It couldn't all be in my mind if Nate had seen it too. We weren't both crazy. I mean, I'd been in there, touched the walls. If I asked someone else to come in and look and it was all in my head. I didn't know. I should see a doctor, I told myself.

Stay calm, make an appointment in the morning. Nate, too, just to be safe. And get out of there. The familiar sounds of the city woke me in the morning. Traffic, voices, like any other day. I swung out of bed and left Nate sleeping. We were leaving today, I told myself. Right now.

I dug our suitcases out and I started packing. I'd left the kitchen chair propped against the door of the room. I checked on Nate every few minutes, but he'd hardly moved. I was about halfway through when I realized some things were missing. Nate's football. A couple of my books. It didn't make any sense. I remembered unpacking them, and now we hadn't taken them out of the apartment.

I'd almost given up searching for them when my eyes fell back on that door. No, I thought. The chair was still tight under the handle. Nothing had moved, not a millimeter. I took a deep breath. I had to know. One last look before we left this place forever. I slid the chair away and opened the door one last time.

And there they were. The football, my books, some cans from the kitchen I hadn't even noticed were missing. The cran marks were still on the walls, and there was a new door at the very end of the corridor. I began to panic. I tried not to. I tried, but this was too much. Someone was messing with me. Or I had just lost my mind.

Either way it wasn't safe for my son. We had to get out now. Nathan, I said, and the door slammed shut behind me. I'm haunted by these moments, you know. No matter how many times I go over them, no matter how much I pray, it never changes and it never hurts less. I wish I could go back and do it again. I had done everything wrong.

I wrenched the door opened, and I ran to my bedroom for my son, but he was gone. And it all became a blur. Adrenaline, fear, confusion? I ran through the apartment, shouting his name over and over again, knocking over furniture. The front door was still locked, and the chain was still on. I saw the new door lying open, and I rushed back to the room. it. He must be in there, I thought. Got past me somehow. It didn't make sense. Any of it. I can see that now. I charged through, and there was only another corridor, another door, all as empty

as the once before. Nathan! I ran forward. Reckless, foolish. The next door opened. with a push, and I was through again. Another corridor. A dozen more doors. One already a crack open. Nathan. I ran through it, heard another door slam closed behind me. It's like trying to remember a nightmare.

Disjointed images and sounds that metallic smell. Echoes rolling back through dark corridors. The flickering lights. Her voice in my head. Natalie's voice. I saw more cran marks on the walls, long lines leading through doorways, a series of giant stairwells plunging down into the gray below. A thousand other rooms.

I was delirious, rambling. I remember my own voice coming out in a few. frenzied stream. I remember the crayon line stopping over a woman's dead body. There were toys beside her, a drawing book, and a stuffed bear. There were words on the walls I can't remember, and I ran on. There's that feeling of being watched now, something there just behind me. I was still running, but now I'm running from something, not just searching. Doors were slamming behind me. Endless rooms and hallways ahead of me.

I don't know how long I've been running. The lights flashed on and off. I heard a voice in the distance different this time. And then I saw it. Nathan's football. I saw it lying on the floor through the next doorway. I stumbled forward and crashed through to the other side. The door slammed behind me.

I was back in our apartment, in the hallway. But I was alone, and my son was gone. I turned to go back, and there was only a blank wall. where the door had been. No sign that it had ever been there. No. My legs buckled under me. The world was spinning.

My vision blurred, and that I was gone. It's been a year now since Nathan vanished. I woke up in the hospital the next day. I tried to get up as soon as I was conscious. To get away, Get back to my apartment to find my son. They wouldn't let me leave, the police or the doctors. They thought I heard him, that I heard Nate.

The other neighbor upstairs phoned the police, said he heard crashes and screaming coming from our apartment. When the police broke down the door, they found me unconscious in the hallway. There were months of questions. questions, lawyers, and doctors, and I told them everything I could without sounding crazy. We were getting ready to move, and he disappeared. I panicked when I couldn't find him, and I passed out.

I didn't know what else to tell him. I don't know where he is, I told him. I don't know where he is. I kept the apartment, kept everything as it was. I sleep in the hall, and I walk around the building at night. I listen for his voice. I see him every time I close my eyes. He might still be here somewhere.

He must be. And I can't ever leave here if there's a chance, no matter how small. I tell myself I'll find him. that he's lost in those rooms like I was needing me. I tell myself I can get back to him. Maybe he'll find his own way out. He could do it. He was a clever boy, you know, clever.

He could do it. But I have to get back there. He could be calling for me now, calling for me to help him. Every morning I wake up. up. I think this is the day it will have all just been a dream. I'll run to his room and snatch up out of his bed and I'll tell him I love him. I'll hold him like I did when he was born. When he met my eyes and we were the only people in the world, I will find my son. I will find him.