ECHOS OF THE PAST

9. The Old Apartment

As planned, I decided to start the day by visiting Mona's old apartment. It took almost 50 minutes just to get a cab. None of the drivers were willing to go to the location. Each booking was either abruptly canceled, or the drivers agreed to go only part of the way. Eventually, I found a driver who grudgingly agreed to drop me off a little closer to the place.

I boarded the cab, and the driver gave me a look—a strange, almost pitying expression like I was about to make a grave mistake. 

"Only as far as the main road, ma'am," he said, his eyes flicking nervously toward the rearview mirror. 

I couldn't help but ask, "Why is everyone so hesitant to come here?"

He hesitated, but I pressed for details. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing. His voice dropped as if confiding a well-kept secret. "You don't know? People call it the devil's den. Lotta muggings, and accidents. People get lost in those alleys. Seen cars ram into fences like their drivers lost control of their senses. Not a place you want to hang around, especially after dark."

He talked about the air being dense with something unnatural, about shadows that crept where no light could chase them. His tone was half folklore, half fear. 

The words hung heavy in the air, and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. I wasn't sure what any of this meant for me, but I needed answers. Yes, I knew the area had a bad reputation for crime—drug peddlers, muggers—but something about the driver's tone suggested there was more to the story. Something... deeper.

"The devil lives there. Or something close enough," he murmured before falling silent for the rest of the ride.

The more we approached the old neighborhood, the less I saw of the world I was used to. The bustling city with its crowded streets and noisy markets seemed a world away. The area Mona once lived in felt forgotten—lonely and forsaken by time. It wasn't just the absence of people. It was the feeling that no one wanted to remember this place existed.

The driver pulled over suddenly. "This is as far as I go, ma'am. You'll have to take that narrow lane and walk the rest of the way." He didn't look at me as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

I stepped out of the cab, clutching my bag tighter than I realized. I handed him the fare and thanked him. Just as I shut the door, he called out, "Best be gone before the sun disappears. Don't want to be around here after that."

I froze for a second, then glanced up at the sky instinctively. The sun hung high, bathing the area in a soft golden light. I checked my watch. 8:30 AM. Of course, I had plenty of time.

As I started down the lane, the cab sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind. I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that settled in my chest.

The narrow lane leading to the apartment felt eerily disconnected from the rest of the city. It was as if someone had built this little residential township in the middle of nowhere. Fences lined the sides, bushes and wildflowers had grown unchecked, some reaching as tall as me. The place reeked of neglect.

The air seemed cooler, but not in a refreshing way. It was as if something cold and unseen wrapped itself around my skin, sinking into my bones. The road narrowed into a forgotten path, framed by trees whose branches twisted unnaturally as if growing in defiance of the sky. Birds didn't sing here. No wind rustled through the leaves. Only silence. And the faint sound of my footsteps against cracked pavement.

Ahead, the apartment complex stood like an old wound, festering at the edge of the city. I could see seven two-story buildings, their faded paint peeling like decaying skin. Each had two apartments per floor, with the top floors accessible via outside staircases. Metal fences surrounded them, the gates hanging askew as if the wind had long since grown tired of pushing them. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and decay. Huge trees loomed over the area, looking oppressive, casting deep shadows that seemed too dark for morning.