I live in an apartment down Hughe’s lane, a run-down part of Amesbury. Hughe’s lane is no place for children, or even adults who expect quality. The condition of the roads and the houses in Hughe’s lane is laughable. Not a lot of people want to come here, let alone move in, so new people come by quite rarely. Even when new people do come, it’s usually a family that’s lost their way or an alcoholic who stumbled down here in drunken stupor. Honestly I can see why.

When you walk down Hughe’s lane, you will see:

Fistfights and underage kids doing drugs

Open potholes

Dead cats and dogs on the side of the road Roadkill

People dumpster diving

Pickpockets

I live in a shabby apartment building right at the end of this hell hole.

“Bainbridge Apartments”

One would mistake it for being abandoned if it weren’t for the occasional light from one of the rooms. However, the inside of the apartments is magical. They are disgusting to a whole new level. Hot water is a luxury. The power goes out way too many times. Sometimes, I think that maybe the management is doing this just to annoy the residents, you know? Get a little laugh? Many of the apartments can’t even be used because of the mold that’s grown on the ceilings. To be honest, living in this building should be a health hazard. I heard a woman moved out of here because of her daughter’s constant ear infections due to the mold. So that’s that.

My apartment is on the ground floor. Just my luck. Being on the ground floor means that I can hear the loud thumping of footsteps in the rooms above me 24/7. It also means that I have to go up a ridiculous amount of stairs to get to the rooftop just for a smoke-break.

But at the end of the day, I don’t have a choice. I have to live here; I can’t afford any place else. That’s the thing about this building. It’s like a little place for broke people. At least they’re not taking heaps of money, even though I’m still most definitely not getting my money’s worth.

I got home a bit earlier than usual today, after another exciting day at work. The moment I stepped into my apartment,

something felt off.

I couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but something just wasn’t right. The air suddenly felt too thick to breathe through and I started sweating, even though it was 8°C. I walked around slowly, cautiously. From the kitchen to the lounge, the bathroom and then to the bedroom.

That’s when I noticed it.

Stuff was moved around.

I remember leaving my watch on my bedside table. How did it get to the dressing table? A couple of my drawers were also open. I quickly rummaged through my stuff, only to find nothing missing. That’s strange. Why break in and take nothing?

I bet it was one of those annoying kids from the nearby apartment. Those little wimps must have been too scared to take anything, lest I get the police involved. Do they really have nothing else to do? Just then, I had the most brilliant idea.

That night, I placed mousetraps near the door, around my bedroom and left one inside each of my drawers. That ought to teach them a lesson. I could imagine them opening the drawers, and then snap. Now all I had to do was wait.

I ate leftover casserole from the day before, didn’t change the fact that it was delicious. A customer at work, another old lady, brought it for me. She said

“You’re like a grandson.”

That was strangely…nice. Maybe that’s why the casserole tasted a little better than it should have. I finished the casserole and put the plastic container in the garbage, did the dishes and started getting ready for bed. I was just about to head to bed, when I heard it.

A mousetrap went off.

A smile creeped up on my face as I headed towards the direction of the noise. Then it hit me. The noise didn’t come from the mouse trap near the door. It came from my bedroom. How the hell did this person come in? I heard footsteps hurriedly run deeper into my bedroom, a creak and then a slam. A creak and a slam. Maybe they hid in the bathroom? I came into my room and went straight to my bathroom. I checked everywhere, even inside the washing machine, but to no avail. Then I checked my bedroom: my closet, under the bed, every nook and cranny. I checked the rest of the house right after. All I found was one set-off mousetrap. That’s was it. A creak and a slam. Where could they have gone? How did they enter and how did they leave?

A creak and a slam.

The bedroom window.

It hit me like a brick. The window. A creak to open it, a slam to close. But how? There were no trees beside my window. There was no way they got up here easily. And a kid couldn’t have been smart enough to climb the damn walls just to get in. Plus, why put in so much effort? There’s nothing in my apartment worth seeing, especially nothing for a kid.

I felt bile rise up to my throat. I couldn’t move. Every hair on my body stood on end.

This person couldn’t have been a kid.

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