The Boy In Apartment 13B

When 20-year-old Wren Sterling moves into the historic but crumbling Orion Apartments, the manager gives her three strict rules: No loud music after 10 PM. No pets. And never, under any circumstances, open the door to Apartment 13B.

She lasts a week.
Broke, lonely, and drowning in the monotony of her post-college life, Wren opens the door. Not to a monster, but to a boy named Silas-all smirks, faded band tees, and the lingering scent of 1998 cigarettes. He's witty, devastatingly handsome, and permanently twenty two, trapped the year Titanic ruled the box office and dial-up internet whined.

He's also the most alive thing in her dead-end world. Their connection, forged through whispered conversations against their shared wall, is immediate and electric. He becomes her escape.

But the Orion has a body count. When a young woman vanishes from the floor below, Wren learns Silas isn't just a ghost; he's a haunted record. His existence flickers with traumatic memories-glimpses of other girls, other disappearances, all spanning decades. He's the sole, silent witness to a predator who has been hunting in the same building for generations.

Now, the charming grad student next door, the reclusive old landlord, the friendly maintenance man-anyone could be wearing the killer's face. As Wren uses her modern perspective to decode the clues in Silas's 90s memories, she draws a dangerous amount of attention. The final, unspoken rule of the Orion is clear: tenants who dig up the past tend to become part of it.

Wren is no longer just the curious new neighbor. She's living proof the killer is still active. And her only ally is a boy whose world stopped spinning the year she was born.