CHAPTER 36 — THE ROOM WITH THE BLUE LIGHT
Lena didn't immediately understand why the hallway felt wrong.
She stepped out of the elevator, clutching the strap of her bag, the building humming quietly around her. Evening had settled hours ago, but tonight the air held an unnatural stillness—like the building itself had stopped breathing.
Her new apartment had been peaceful these past two weeks. Clean. Bright. No shadows that didn't belong to her. No keys missing. No notes on her door. Elias had helped her choose it, helped her move, helped her believe that this time the quiet was real.
Until now.
She rounded the corner, and her footsteps slowed.
Her door—normally a soft white—glowed faintly blue.
The hallway lights were dim, but something was leaking from underneath the door, a thin strip of shifting blue light pulsing softly against the floorboards, like the beat of a distant heartbeat.
Her own heart began to race.
She didn't own anything that emitted blue light.
She took one slow step forward.
Then another.
When she reached the door, she stopped to listen.
Silence.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No whispering.
Just her own shallow breathing.
Her fingers hovered over the lock.
Call Elias, her instincts begged.
Call the police.
Don't open this door alone.
But fear and curiosity had fused together into something sharper. And deeper.
She unlocked the door.
The blue light spilled out instantly, flooding her feet, climbing her legs as she slowly pushed the door open.
At first, she couldn't process what she was seeing.
Her living room was dark except for a single object placed on the coffee table:
A tablet.
Its screen glowed bright electric blue, casting long shadows on the walls.
The tablet was playing a video.
Lena stepped inside.
The door eased shut behind her with a soft click.
She froze.
On the screen—
—it was her.
Sleeping.
In her old apartment.
Curled under her blanket.
Breathing softly.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
No timestamp.
No angle she recognized.
No way to tell when it was recorded.
Her stomach twisted violently.
Someone—Maya—had stood beside her bed, close enough to touch her hair, and filmed her as she slept. She knew Maya had taken pictures, yes, but video… lingering, intimate video… was different. Worse. More invasive.
But the video wasn't looping.
It continued.
Slowly.
A shadow on the screen.
Someone moving.
Someone stepping closer to her sleeping body.
Lena staggered backward, hand trembling as she covered her mouth.
Her breath left her in a broken gasp.
"Stop," she whispered to herself. "Please stop."
But the video continued.
A hand reached into frame.
A familiar hand.
Maya's hand.
Softly brushing a strand of hair from sleeping Lena's cheek.
Lena's knees nearly buckled.
Then the video cut abruptly to black.
For a moment, the silence roared.
Then—another video automatically began to play.
This time Lena wasn't sleeping.
She was sitting in Elias's office, reading a book. The angle was from outside the window, as if someone had pressed their phone between the blinds. Watching her. Recording her. For minutes. Hours maybe.
There were more videos.
Dozens.
Different days.
Different outfits.
Different rooms.
Different expressions.
Full moments of her life she didn't know were being stolen.
Her breath cracked as she whispered, "Maya… how many times did you—"
A sound behind her made her spin.
Her phone.
Buzzing.
She fumbled for it, hands shaking, and saw a notification:
**Unknown Number**
**1 new message**
Her thumb hovered, cold sweat forming along her spine.
She opened it.
Just three words:
**"Check the bedroom."**
Her heart seized.
No.
No no no.
She turned toward the dark hallway that led to her bedroom. The door was half-open. She could see nothing inside.
Her breath came shallow and fast.
Her voice trembled. "Maya… please… please don't be here…"
Her phone buzzed again.
**"You never should've moved."**
Lena backed away, chest tightening. Her phone slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.
She ran.
Out of the apartment.
Down the hall.
Toward the elevator—
She slammed into someone before she even saw them.
Large hands caught her arms before she fell.
"Lena—hey, hey, breathe—breathe—"
Elias.
She collapsed into him, shaking violently.
He wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest.
"Elias—she—she was inside my apartment again—she left videos—she filmed me sleeping—she told me to check the bedroom—she—" Lena couldn't breathe, couldn't finish a sentence.
Elias held her face, forcing her eyes to stay on his. His own gaze burned with fear and fury.
"Lena," he whispered, "she's dead."
Lena shook her head wildly. "No—no, Elias, she's not gone, she's in my apartment—"
"She can't be," he insisted, voice breaking. "They found her body. I identified—"
Her phone buzzed from the floor, vibrating against the tiles.
Elias looked down.
Unknown Number.
Another message.
He picked it up, dread flooding his face.
The message read:
**"Why didn't you check the bedroom?"**
Elias pulled Lena behind him instinctively, his body tense, protective, breath sharp.
Her tears blurred everything.
If Maya was dead—
—then who was inside her apartment?
Who had her number?
Who had her keys?
Who had access to her past?
And who was watching her now?