Chapter 6: Last Message Before Dawn

It took me a while to type everything out.

Every word felt heavy, like I was confessing to a crime. I re-read my message twice before hitting send, afraid it sounded too paranoid, too filmi.

504 read it and was shocked:

His reply came so quickly, it made my phone buzz twice. The expletive was pure Bombay, raw and real.

[Shit, that’s terrifying! I knew that last message wasn’t from 402!]

I replied immediately: [I’m calling the police. Don’t even think about calling 402—let the police handle it.]

As I typed, my fingers shook. I pictured the local cops—stout, sleepy-eyed, but sharp enough to handle this. Their arrival would bring the comfort of authority, the kind of reassurance only a khaki uniform can offer at 2 AM.

But what I didn’t expect was that 504 actually sent this message:

[I already called the police. Don’t go wandering around, and definitely don’t snoop at 404 like 402 did.]

[The police will contact me when they arrive. Remember—don’t go out. Wait for my message, and then we’ll explain everything to the police together.]

I replied: [Okay]

The word looked small on the screen, but it carried the weight of all my relief. I slumped against the wall, letting myself hope, just for a moment, that we’d made it through the worst.

Only then did I feel a little relieved.

I stared at the flickering tube light above my door, counting its dull yellow pulses. I thought of my family, safe and far away, and hoped I’d see them again soon.

Because as long as the police came, everything would be sorted out.

The distant wail of a siren on the main road sounded like hope itself. In India, when the police arrive, people spill into corridors and staircases—everyone wants to see, everyone wants answers.

But the fact that 504 told me twice not to go out finally made me realise something—

I replayed his words in my head, the warning clear and urgent. The pieces clicked into place, forming a picture I didn’t want to see.

I suddenly understood what had been nagging at me just now:

My heartbeat drummed in my ears as I remembered, with crystal clarity, the sound of that door closing…

Because I clearly heard the sound of 404’s door closing, but when I looked through the peephole, I saw the face of the 404 man…

My hand flew to my mouth. The realisation washed over me like ice water—if the door closed and he was outside, what was really happening inside 404? What had I heard? What had I really seen? Somewhere in the building, a door creaked. I held my breath, knowing that tonight, not even the police might be enough.