I’ve been living alone in a shitty, run-down one-bedroom apartment in a just as shitty apartment building for about three years now. I’d really like to move out at some point, but between my sometimes shittier job as a waitress and how expensive rent has gotten out there, I don’t want to take the risk. I can deal with the shoddy lighting, the broken switches, the occasional roach, and the ever-negligent landlord— I can’t deal with not having enough money for my next meal.

And the city is so damn expensive. I can’t bring myself to take this apartment for granted, no matter how poor the living conditions— it won’t let me. I could be unemployed and on the streets. Things could be so much worse, so I’m forced to settle for what I have. I could’ve easily ended up homeless, just like every other daughter, son, or child who got kicked out of the house at the ‘oh-so-mature’ age of eighteen. I’m one of the lucky ones.

But, as if my life wasn’t already a danger emotionally and financially, it was decided that I had to endure another struggle yet. Something more tangible. Something more immediate.

I noticed it a little less than a year ago. After being guilted into a 14-hour shift due to us being short handed at the restaurant, I was spent. I needed the money, sure, but even I have limits to how much work I can physically do in a day. The sixty-something creep of a restaurant owner constantly in my ear about ‘looking pretty’ and ‘smiling more’ didn’t really help either. I left the restaurant in a sour mood. My tired limbs turned what would usually be about a 15 minute walk home into a laborious half-hour, an already dangerous route through a shoddy part of town even more so in the dim moonlight. Having to be extra-attentive of my surroundings ate away at what little energy I had left.

When I finally, somewhat cathartically found myself facing the front door to my apartment, the numbers 217 barely lit by buzzing overhead LED panels, a small note caught my attention.

Hey Cher. I finally got some guy to come in and fix the lights earlier. I tried knocking but you were gone. Now you can leave me alone about it, not that I hated the company. XOXO, Vaughn.

I sighed. A short-lived relief that the lights were finally fixed, but also fatigue from my landlord’s unwanted chummy behavior towards me. I hated those damn lights. When I tried to turn them on, they would flicker constantly, and made this weird clicking noise. I tore off the paper and opened the door.

Exhausted, I stumbled into my apartment and slightly hesitated as I flipped the light switch, which I had kept in the ‘OFF’ position for the last couple of months or so, since they had barely worked all that time anyway. I rejoiced as the light flickered on, lighting up my previously shadowy apartment. I recoiled as I saw a couple of cockroaches climb under the fridge connected to the small kitchenette in the living room, and another scurry under the bathroom door. I know those little guys like it dark. Well, better out of sight, honestly. Ideally, if Vaughn really wanted me to leave him alone, then he’d fix everything all at once, including the roach problem. I let out another sigh. Yeah, right. That asshole? No way.

I swung open my bedroom door, collapsing backwards onto the sheetless, full-size mattress sitting on the floor that I called my bed. That’s when I noticed it, directly above me. A small, tiny hole about the size of a penny in the roof of my apartment, blending almost seamlessly with the discolored popcorn ceiling. I blinked a few times. Has it always been there? I hadn’t ever seen it before, definitely not back when the lights worked, and even though the sunlight did a poor job of lighting my small apartment, I think I might’ve noticed it in the morning. Even still, how often does one really pay attention to the ceiling? Especially someone as busy as I am. I don’t think it’d be a place I’d naturally look at if there wasn’t a problem that needed to be fixed. Maybe the repairman drilled a hole to fix the lights? I don’t really know what had to be done, so it’s possible. I scoffed. I didn’t really like the idea of a hole in my ceiling, especially if it was due to Vaughn trying to repair the lights. I took a deep breath. It’s alright, I could worry about it tomorrow. It was time to sleep. As my eyelids slowly shut, I didn’t bother to get up and turn off the lights, instead inviting slumber as I was.

Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have to turn anything off. The lights flickered for half a second, I heard the damning clicking noise, and then I was shrouded in complete darkness.

“Of fucking course.” I said out loud. Fucking landlord. He can’t fix shit. I let another deep sigh out, an action I noticed I had been doing a lot recently. I can’t worry about this tonight. I need to sleep.

I remember the dream I had that night vividly. I lay there, in my bed, in complete darkness, staring straight up at where my ceiling would be. What was there instead was a black void; the shadows on my walls eventually receding into pure dark. I felt bugs start to crawl around my arms and legs, roaming freely on the surface that was my body. I could do nothing but lay there, motionless. I felt like something was coming for me in that void. I was frightened, and wanted everything to leave, to turn away, close my eyes, anything to not witness whatever was coming to get me.

But that thing never came. It was just the dark. The harrowing dark.

The morning light illuminated my room just enough to show me the ceiling that was just a moment before covered in shadows. I was awake. I was safe. But the hole was still there.

I tried the lightswitch directly above my mattress, just to see if last night’s failure was a fluke. They flickered again, this time for longer— and when I got my hopes up that it would stay on; I heard that damn clicking noise again and they shut off.

“Great.”

The next several months were tough. Between my sleazy old creep of a boss, my landlord, and the repairman that always seemed to come whenever I wasn’t home, I was starting to get really upset. And that hole… something about it really freaked me out. It was a bit of an irrational fear, and I really couldn’t justify it, but it was just— it was so invasive. It felt like it was watching me. For it to be right above where I sleep— I didn’t feel safe in the comfort of my own home. I really wanted it fixed. Even more than the lights. But Vaughn kept telling me, ‘Oh, no, I’m not legally required to do small stuff like that’ and ‘Ah, I’ll get to it after the lights and the big things’; which would be fine, if he actually made the repairs he said he was making. He had sent someone to repair the lights about three separate times now, and none of those times have actually fixed the problem. The same flickering and clicking. Every. Single. Time.

And I just keep getting these nightmares. It’s always the same. I’m in my room, lying there. Staring up at my shadowy, non-existent ceiling. Darkness stretching towards infinity.

More recently, I’ve been hearing a lot more shuffling and noise upstairs— which I’ve always ignored, since I know we have the occasional rodent that makes its home between the walls and ceiling. It’s definitely gotten more frequent though.

Regardless, I couldn’t devote too much time to lingering on these blaring issues that have sprung up on my home. I had bills to pay. As worrisome as that hole was, it wasn’t quite as worrisome as ending up on the streets, or being too bothered by my home life to be able to work.

Last night, a somewhat morbid thought came to mind as I lay there, staring at that hole, a ritual that has become common practice at the end of my day. The hole that has caused me a bit of mental anguish for the past several months. An overwhelming feeling of discomfort came over me, stronger than I’ve ever felt before. Something compelled me to act. Curiosity maybe? Or, perhaps, a fear. Fear that needed to be validated, or rationalized.

Before I knew it, I was balancing on a stool from the living room, trying to stabilize myself by putting my hands on the ceiling. I was going to look into the hole. From where I was, and in my poorly lit room, I had only seen darkness from the hole. Hopefully, it would just be a shallow entry into the dead space between the floors. If not, though— I’m not sure what I’ll do.

I turned on the flashlight on my phone. I hesitated before I fully committed to witnessing what was within. What if— what if I did find what I was dreading? What would I do then? I took a deep breath. It didn’t change the fact that I needed to know.

Looking inside with sufficient light, I saw nothing. The gap was larger than I thought, maybe a little less than a foot, but other than that, nothing. It was difficult to see, but at the far end of the hole, there was a different material. Fabric maybe? Insulation? Or carpet? I guess it could’ve been the bottom of the carpet for the room above mine. The room has been vacant since I moved in. All of the apartments here are shit, but that one had serious unattended issues that were severely neglected by our diligent landlord. Either way, my fears were calmed. I'd finally get some decent sleep tonight. And I can stop obsessing over that damn hole.

But I wasn’t satisfied. Something was still bothering me. I wanted to be sure. And I wanted to be sure tonight.

I didn’t really have a plan at first. I was just going to go knock on the door; but decided against it. The light buzzed above me, the number 317 poorly lit against the backdrop of a burgundy door. I shook the handle, hard. I heard a snap, and the handle loosely fell limp towards the ground, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I took a step back, surprised. That cheap asshole.

Cautiously, I took a step inside of apartment 317. It was barren, and definitely in need of repairs. The living room mirrored mine, but in exceeding disrepair. Unsurprisingly, the lights didn’t work, but the whole place was a mess. Cabinets and drawers were missing in the kitchenette, and there were tears in the linoleum floor.

My eyes shifted towards the bedroom door, which was closed. The hole would be there.

I dreaded opening that door. I wish I hadn’t. It was a small room, just as small as my bedroom. I was surprised by the hardwood floors, and a thick rug in the center of the room; a strange addition to the otherwise unfurnished and vacant apartment.

My heart sank as my attention was stolen by the various pictures on the walls. Some were unrecognizably blurry and pixelated, but most were in enough detail to make out the subject. A young woman. All of the pictures were from the same angle. I couldn’t breathe. They were all pictures of me— I—I was sleeping in these pictures. Changing. There must have been hundreds of them; all taken from the same position. I noted an expensive-looking camera in the corner of the room. It had a long, thin lens that was surely custom-made. I lifted the rug, and sure enough, I saw a small, hole, a bit larger than a penny. I started to panic— who knows how long this has been going on? How could I not have noticed?

Fearfully, I picked up the camera in the corner of the room. And took a single photo.

Click.

It was a clicking noise I had become accustomed to. That I had learned to ignore.

I called the cops. I didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t long before the flashing red and blue lights filled the parking lot of our apartment complex.

“We’ll take care of it. We’ll keep a squad car outside your apartment, just in case. There’s someone looking into it right now. Don’t worry, we’ll do what we can to make you feel safe tonight.”

Their words did nothing to quell my fears.

At the end of the day, I still had to go back to that damn apartment. That damn room, with that damn hole. The sound of footsteps upstairs, the officers investigating, gave me little security.

But maybe something will finally be done about the hole. And maybe there finally will be an incentive to fix the other issues with the apartment. Maybe I’ll finally have the leverage I need to get some stuff done in my life. I smiled. In lieu of this horrible, frightening experience, maybe there is good to come, after all.

On my bed, I lay on my side, looking away from the hole that has tormented me for the better part of the last year, and let out a sigh of relief. Short-lived relief.

I froze, motionless and wide-eyed.

A penny-shaped hole stared back at me, near the bottom of my bedroom door.