Love Me, Stalk Me Not

The lock clicked twice before I had let myself believe it. Two clicks, it was always two, the first for the door, and the second for the part of my brain that needed the sound to actually relax.

New Apartment, same old rules.

I dropped my luggage onto the floor and took a slow look around the place that was, as of four hours ago, officially mine.

To call it small was an understatement. The kitchenette barely deserved the name, the solitary window faced a dead brick wall, and I had already measured the closet with my keen eyes the second I walked in. It was just big enough to fit through if things went sideways, but small enough that nobody could hide inside without the door sticking out.

I honestly hated that my mind automatically mapped out the Exits, front door, third-floor window, the fire escape, the gap under the sink. I hated it even more because I knew I was right to do it.

My phone buzzed in my coat's pocket. It wasn't a text, not really. It was just an App disguised as a mediocre weather widget. I tapped the cloud icon twice, punched in the four digits that signaled I’m here, I’m fine, nothing to report, and watched the little graphic shift from grey to blue.

Confirmed. Logged.

Somewhere out there, a person whose face I would never see at the Witness protection office checked a box next to a name that wasn't mine either. Marina Cole. Nineteen years of age. Sophomore. Parents deceased. I had practiced saying the lie in the mirror for two weeks straight until it stopped feeling like a cheap costume and started feeling like actual skin.

But you still sort of worry that someone is going to tug at the seam.

I unpacked slowly, mostly because the mindless repetition of folding shirts and lining up drawers was its own kind of comfort. By the time I had finished, the brick wall outside had gone completely dark.

A sudden knock resounded through the quiet. It wasn't on my door, but the one directly next to it. Then came a burst of laughing, followed by a voice so bright and loud it caused my shoulders to climb toward my ears before I could stop them.

"Oh my god, is someone actually in there? I thought this place was empty!"

I opened my door a tiny crack, peering out. A girl stood in the hallway with dark curly hair piled on top of her head, wearing a marching band hoodie. Like a streetlight her face lit up the second she caught sight of me, as if I had handed her a.

"Hi! Oh my god, hi. I’m Becca. I live two doors down, well, I mean, I basically live everywhere on this floor because nobody locks their doors and it’s a whole vibe, wait, sorry, that’s probably not reassuring. Do you lock your door? You should lock your door."

"I do," I said. It came out flatter than I had meant it to.

"Cool, cool. Smart." Becca didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t care, already leaning against my doorframe like we had known each other for years. "What’s your name?"

"Marina."

"Marina! Love it. Very mermaid-core. Are you new-new, or just new to this building?"

"New-new," I breathed.

"Oh, perfect, are you a student as well?” She asked much like a bird chirping.

I replied quickly. “Yes.”

Her eyes brightened even further, if that was possible. “Then you have to come to the horror-hunt event this weekend, I’m handing out invites, I don’t have the fliers here but…..”

I watched as her lips moved unnaturally fast.

“….Half the campus does it, it’s actually super fun. Well, fun is relative, some people cry, but like, in a good way?"

I blinked at her. "In a good way."

"You’ll see! Everyone goes." She shrugged, a little less like a tornado in human form now. "If you want to actually meet people here, that’s where it starts."

I didn't want to meet people. That was the honest truth. I had spent four years getting incredibly good at being forgettable, harmless, and boring. But looking at her expectant smile, a smaller, stupider part of me reared its stupid ugly head.

Being good at being a nobody was exhausting.

"Maybe," I finally responded.

Becca’s face split into a nice smile. "Maybe is basically a yes. I’ll text you the details—oh wait, I don’t have your number." She shoved her phone at me, and I quickly typed in the number to my burner before handing it back. "Welcome to the building, Marina!"

"Night, Becca," I said with a casual smile.

I was about to shut the door completely when loud, clicking footsteps echoing down the hall caught my attention. I kept the door open just a tiny crack, peering back out into the hallway.

A pretty blonde girl wearing incredibly skimpy clothes was walking purposefully past my room, stopping right at the door directly opposite mine.

She awkwardly rapped her fist on the wood, shifting her weight from one heel to the other.

The door opened almost immediately, and my breath caught slightly in my throat.

The guy standing on the other side was completely shirtless and glistening with sweat, looking as if he had just finished a brutal workout. He was bursting with attractiveness. He had a sharp jaw, and dark messy hair that looked entirely deliberate falling over his face.

Ink crawled up his bare forearm, and even from here, I could tell he possessed a freezing cold feeling about him that made him seem magnetic.

He didn't seem to want to let her in, leaning heavily against the doorframe to block the entrance.

"What are you doing here?" his voice was blank, sprouting out the words as if they cost him nothing.

The blonde girl said something too low for me to catch, trying to smoothly slide past him, but his firm lips pursed together into a hard line. He didn't budge.

Instead, his grey eyes suddenly drifted away from her, lifting up until they locked directly on the small crack of my door. Right at me.

My heart beat a millisecond faster than usual. My chest went tight, a sudden prickle starting right at the base of my skull.

Panic flaring, I quickly pulled back, shutting my door in a hurry. Two clicks. The second one was for me.

I leaned against the wood for a second, my hands shaking slightly as I listened for any sound in the hallway, but there was nothing. Just the silence of my room pressing in.

I had gotten ready for bed in the dark, mostly out of habit, less light meant less to explain if anyone was watching.

I climbed into bed and lay there, running through the locks in my head one more time to talk myself down.

“Front door. Window. Fire escape. All locked. All fine.”

I was almost asleep, that hazy, sinking place where thoughts stop making sense, when a sudden draft of cold air hit my face.

My eyes snapped open. I sat up, blatantly staring across the room.

The window was wide open, letting the night air rush into the small Apartment.

My whole body went rigid, every muscle bracing. I could have sworn it was locked. I had checked the latch myself.