Chapter 4: Ben’s Secret and the Apartment’s Curse

His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “Mr. Walker, I moved out because… it’s haunted.”

I cut him off.

“Haunted, my ass! It’s your place that’s haunted!” My voice was shaky, but I tried to sound tough.

Ben hurried to explain:

He took a shaky breath, the sound of a lighter flicking in the background. “Let me explain.”

Then he told me what happened.

The smoke must’ve curled around him, making his voice rough. “A few nights ago, while I was sleeping, I felt someone touch me.”

He said a cold touch skimmed his shoulder.

He described it—a cold hand brushing his shoulder, gentle but insistent. He thought it was his wife, but when he rolled over, she was fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

When he turned over, there was no one there.

He got up, heart pounding, and checked every room. Nothing. The apartment was silent, but the feeling lingered. He shivered just thinking about it.

Then he heard the chair creaking. But when he checked, nothing was wrong.

He found the chair in the living room, perfectly still. He sat in it, rocked back and forth, but couldn’t make it creak. It only happened when he wasn’t looking. The hairs on his neck stood up.

After that, he couldn’t sleep. He sat on the sofa watching TV, and a horror movie started playing.

He tried to distract himself, flipping through channels until he landed on a late-night horror flick. The title was something generic—Axe Man or The Last Tenant. He thought it would help, but it only made things worse.

In the movie, a maniac with an axe killed everyone in the house.

The scenes were gruesome, over-the-top, but Ben had seen worse. He watched, half-amused, half-bored. He tried to laugh it off.

Ben loved horror, so at first he was into it.

He recognized some of the actors, even laughed at the cheesy effects. But something felt off. His stomach twisted.

But a few minutes later, he realized something was off.

He sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. The wallpaper, the furniture, even the way the light fell across the floor—it all looked too familiar. His breath caught.

The house in the movie looked exactly like this apartment.

He paused the movie, scanned the room, then looked back at the screen. It was a perfect match—down to the scuff on the wall by the kitchen. His heart pounded.

He even reached out and turned off the lights—

On a whim, he flicked the switch. The room plunged into darkness, and so did the movie.

And in the movie, the lights went out at the same time.

Ben’s blood ran cold. He scrambled for the remote, fumbling with the buttons, but the movie kept playing—now in pitch black, the only sound the killer’s heavy breathing.

Ben was so freaked out he bolted from the apartment.

He didn’t even grab his shoes. He ran barefoot down the hall, heart pounding, not stopping until he reached the street. His hands shook as he called a cab.

The next day, he looked up the news.

He couldn’t shake the feeling, so he searched for anything about the building. What he found made his skin crawl.

Ten years ago, a whole family had died in this building.

The story was buried in old news archives. A family—father, mother, baby—dead in a single night. The details were grisly.

The father was a gambler. He propped a bottle in his baby’s mouth and left to play cards. The baby choked, but he didn’t notice.

Neighbors heard crying, but no one checked. By the time the father came home, it was too late.

The mother found the baby cold and still, rage and grief twisting inside her. She confronted her husband, screaming until her voice broke.

When the wife came home and found the baby cold and still, the husband was still playing cards.

He didn’t even look up, just kept shuffling the deck. She snapped, grabbing at him, but he was bigger, stronger.

She lost it and went at him, but he overpowered her. He grabbed a kitchen knife and killed her.

The argument turned violent. He lashed out, the knife flashing. The news reports were vague, but the implication was clear.

To cover it up, he killed the three friends who had come to play cards—two men and a woman.

They’d come over for a friendly game, but left in body bags. The police found cards scattered everywhere, blood spattered across the table.

The old building was torn down after the incident, but when the new one went up, the apartment number and location matched exactly where this one is now.

I shivered, picturing the ghosts of those lost nights lingering in the walls, the air thick with secrets no one wanted to remember. My throat went dry.

My scalp tingled.

Goosebumps raced up my arms. I looked around, half-expecting to see shadows moving in the corners.

"Are you serious?"

My voice was barely a whisper, the words catching in my throat. I wanted to believe it was just a story, but Ben sounded deadly earnest. My hands shook.

Ben gave a bitter laugh.

His laugh was hollow, empty. “Mr. Walker, we’ve known each other for years. Would I lie to you? I told you to come during the day because I was worried something might happen to you at night.”

I didn’t argue.

I didn’t need any more convincing. “Fine, I’m leaving right now.” I fumbled for my keys.

I hung up and got ready to go. No way was I staying in this haunted place.

I shoved my phone in my pocket, grabbed my keys, and headed for the door. My hands shook, adrenaline buzzing in my veins. Every shadow seemed to move.

But then it hit me—what about the other phone number? Was the Ben on the new number the real one?

A cold dread crept in. If the old number was gone, who had I been talking to? Was it Ben, or… something else? My skin prickled.

Could it be Ben was already dead? Was I just talking to a ghost…?

The idea made my skin crawl. I shook my head, trying to clear it, but the doubt lingered. My heart hammered.

People say ghosts lie.

I remembered every horror story I’d ever heard—ghosts pretending to be loved ones, luring people into danger. Was I next?

I called Ben on video chat.

My fingers trembled as I waited for the call to connect. The screen flickered, then Ben’s face appeared, grainy but unmistakable. My breath caught.

His face popped up on the screen.

He looked tired, eyes ringed with shadows, but alive. I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me. My shoulders sagged.

"Mr. Walker, what’s up!"

He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. I managed a weak smile, the tension easing just a little.

It was dark where he was, but I could make out his outline. I felt a little relieved.

He turned on a lamp, the light spilling across his face. “See? Still breathing. No ghosts here.”

If he could answer a video call, he was probably alive.

I nodded, swallowing hard. Maybe I’d let my imagination run wild. Maybe everything would be fine. I hoped so.

Ben saw I wasn’t saying anything and guessed what I was thinking.

He leaned closer to the camera, eyebrows raised. “Come on, man, I’m alive. Don’t worry.”

He gave me a thumbs-up, trying to break the tension. I managed a shaky laugh. My hands still trembled.

I nodded, hung up, and got ready to leave.

I grabbed my bag, slung my jacket over my shoulder, and made for the door. My heart was still racing, but at least I knew Ben was okay. Or so I hoped.

Muttering to myself the whole way:

I kept my voice low, almost a whisper. “Sorry to bother you, didn’t mean to intrude. I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” My nerves buzzed.

I slowly made my way to the door and reached for the handle.

My hand hovered over the knob, nerves jangling. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever might be waiting on the other side.