Chapter 1: Red Eyes at the Peephole

At exactly midnight, my phone buzzed with a new message in the residents’ group chat:

[Yo, there’s a monkey with red eyes in the building. It can copy how people knock on doors.]

[Listen up—do NOT open your doors. That thing isn’t just a monkey. It skins people alive and rips out their eyeballs.]

At first, everyone just roasted him:

[Bro, you good? You binge-watching Netflix again?]

[How’s a monkey even get in a Manhattan high-rise? If there is one, it better pay rent like the rest of us.]

[LMAO, I’d one-punch any monkey that tries me.]

I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone on the pillow. It was New York—if there were monkeys loose in this building, the cockroaches would unionize. Still, the glow of the screen nagged at me as I tried to drift off.

Suddenly, 401 started tagging me, fast:

[501, hide! It’s at your door!]

And right then—

*Bang bang bang*

Someone pounded on my door.

The knocks rattled the cheap wood, echoing through my cramped apartment. My heart slammed against my ribs so loud I almost didn’t hear the next round. My hand hovered over my phone, torn between texting back and crawling under the bed. Curiosity—or maybe panic—won out.

I crept to the door and pressed my eye to the peephole—and stared straight into a blood-red eyeball.