Chapter 1
“How did you get in here?”
“This is my apartment.”
“No…no it’s not.”
“But it is.” Past the convenience store, behind the park, up to the second floor, third door on the left. That was her place since the day she started her new life, her better life. Everything was close by, the school, the bus station, even the gym, all within walking distance, something she had made sure of before moving in. And that was how Ahri liked it.
The routine guided her, every day could be mapped out so perfectly. Classes in the morning, followed by a trip to the gym in the afternoon, then maybe a walk in the park or a trip to the store. In the evenings she would eat dinner beside the window, gazing in awe as the sky burst into a vibrant sunset, motionless until the moon crept high into the sky. And then she would sleep, and it would all happen again the next morning. It was like that, had always been like that. Until now, that is.
As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, groceries in hand, she hummed a simple tune to herself. A jingle, a horribly catchy one, played on some advertisement that she couldn’t quite remember. But the six-note melody lodged itself deep in her brain, and now it was the only tune she could sing.
“When you need me, I’ll be there.”
It must’ve been for that new phone locator app, that could track down any phone no matter the distance. Maybe she could get something similar for her keys, which always lodged themselves in the most inconvenient spot in her pocket. The front door jiggled as she pulled on the heavy door, taking care not to let it drag along her doormat. It was just another part of the routine, as she towed off her boots in the entrance. It wouldn’t be home without the sticky door, the doormat that was near shreds, and the unmatched pile of shoes that littered the space.
There was an indescribable smell that wafted around the hallway, rich, flavorful spices that had been stewing in a creamy broth for hours. Ahri could pick up the lovely, sweet smell of ginger, mixed with star anise and cloves into a hearty soup. It was a foreign yet familiar scent, rarely did she stock her pantry with anything as luxurious as star anise, cinnamon, or cloves for that matter. That should’ve been her first sign.
The second was the voice that came from the kitchen, soft and light, singing what sounded to be a lullaby. How could they have gotten in? Ahri had rented the place for the sole purpose of living alone, not even inviting friends over to her private space. But the voice didn’t scare her, and her feet moved automatically against the laminate floor, skipping with near glee. Because when she rounded that corner, everything would make sense.
…
“See? That’s my picture on the fridge. I live here.” Ahri pointed defiantly at the refrigerator; the proof spoke for itself. All the photos, the coffee-stained ones of her childhood, the Polaroids given to her by friends, she placed every last one of them there.
“Those aren’t your pictures.” Now the voice had an edge of fear in it, wavering at the last words. Ahri itched to protest, to stomp her foot down and end this foolishness once and for all. But right as she was about to, she noticed the change.
That this person, this woman, was right. One of her favorite photos, where she had just dyed the tips of her blonde hair pink, grinning from ear to ear at her newfound look, it was gone. But not gone, as Ahri came to realize, but different. Instead of her bright blue eyes staring back at her, they were purple and subdued. They were the same ones that gave her a cautious glance, that outstretched a hand defensively.
It couldn’t have been. The picture of her as a giggling toddler, now a child with a tanner complexion, with long black hair tied with ribbons, and those same purple eyes. Her graduation picture, where she stood proudly beside her family, had morphed as well, and now it was no longer her family but an unknown group of faces in front of a different building, holding a different bouquet of flowers. And it wasn’t just the pictures that had changed, but the whole kitchen. Or had it always been this way?
She was certain that the tiled countertops were bare, that was how she preferred it. But if that was the case, then how did that metal spice rack get there? And how was it filled with so many different canisters and tins when she so often only cooked with salt? The cookbooks, the collection of herbs, the miniature idol statues, where had they come from?
The woman stepped closer, wiping her hands off on her stained apron. She had the tendency to purse her lips when she was nervous, a trait that Ahri had found endearing, romantic even. A part of her wanted to close the distance between them, to tenderly kiss that anxiety away. But another part recoiled in fear, trembling at the stranger before her. This was her apartment, her home, and anyone who dared to tell her otherwise was lying.
Red spots dotted her vision, hot flashes of pain shooting through her veins, so intense it left her begging for mercy on her knees. But all the same, the pain brought with it another horrible sensation—pleasure. A pleasure that made her lips curve into a wicked grin, her hands clenched in indescribable bliss. She could never sacrifice this feeling that alighted her. But just as she closed her eyes to truly savor it, she saw them. And just as quickly as the pleasure came, so too did the disgust.
“Ahri?”
“Can we…can we try this again?”
…
Twenty steps. There were twenty steps up to Ahri’s apartment. If she was in a good mood, she would skip every other step, feeling lighter than air. By the way she leaped up every third step, her bag of groceries bouncing off her shoulder, it had been more than just a good day. There was no reason why, she just had a knack for accumulating happiness, for gratitude. This simple life was beautiful, a luxury that many couldn’t afford, and therefore should be savored.
As she twisted her key in her door, lifting it up slightly off its hinges, a set of footsteps came barreling up the steps. But Ahri paid it no mind, tuning out the chaotic world was second nature. But from the way the voice was shouting “Excuse me!” from behind, she knew it was for her. She didn’t talk to strangers, they were strange after all, her eyebrow twitching with annoyance at this interruption in her perfect day. But still, she turned around, only to be greeted with a thick cardboard box mere inches from her nose.
“Hi!” It was a cheerful voice, coming out of a just as cheerful smile. A tall woman, adeptly carrying the large box with only one hand, waving with the other. Ahri couldn’t place her face, the long nose, the pointed chin, the long flowing hair, those eyes. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw you going up the stairs and wanted to catch you before you went inside.” In one smooth motion, the woman set the box beside her feet, taking the time to stretch out her lower back. “I’m your new neighbor. My name is Kai’sa.”
“Kai’sa.” The word rolled off Ahri’s tongue in a way she couldn’t describe. A name that started in the back of her throat, pushing its way to the roof of her mouth, exiting with a hiss of air. Kai’sa. An exhale of sweetness. The motion was second nature, but she didn't know why. Why it felt so right.
“And you?”
“And me?”
Kai’sa let out a small laugh, that smile only widening. “What’s your name?”
“Oh.” A light blush dusted her cheeks. “Ahri.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ahri. Maybe once I finish unpacking you can come over for a drink.”
“Sure, that sounds nice.” She enjoyed the way her name sounded in Kai’sa’s voice, the sharp rolling of the r, trilling like a bird call. Again was that uncertainty, but Ahri had never run into anyone in this hallway before. Had she? “Kai’sa. That name sounds familiar. Have we met before?”
That smile dropped into a tense frown, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Kai’sa’s eyes, a dark indigo, swam with a sadness that Ahri got lost in, filled with words that neither could say. A yearning for things to be different. But she shook her head, quickly regaining her composure. “Maybe we have. The world’s a small place.” She hoisted the box onto her shoulder, jingling her own set of keys from her hand. “I better get to cleaning. This floor won’t vacuum itself. Be seeing you!”
“Likewise.” Ahri watched as the woman unlocked the door to her left, and with a flick of her wrist, she waved one last time before the door closed behind her. Ahri had never taken the time to meet her neighbors before, never even realizing there were two other doors next to hers. At least, she didn’t recall those doors being there before. There was her own door, with her brass decoration hanging off, twisting into itself in a spiral design. And now Kai’sa’s door, the whir of a vacuum coming from inside. And finally, a few paces further, was the third door. Who could reside there?
But there was no time to think, there was dinner to be made, and Ahri hurriedly dumped her groceries onto the counter. She tied her blonde hair back behind her ears, taking care to not let a single strand fall out. Yet with every slice of her knife, her mind wandered to that interaction by the stairs, replaying again and again. Her new neighbor. The name would be at the tip of her tongue all night. “Kai’sa.”
…
Stop.
But Ahri couldn’t stop as her claws dug into the hard earth, scooping mud and gravel with fervor. Aided by the light of foxfire and the scent of a withering maple tree, she clawed through the dead roots and vines that blocked her path downward. Through the soft sediment, the thick layer of clay, the vile hatred that consumed her, the desire that forced her to continue. The night was cold, the wind howling through the dead branches, carrying with it the knowledge of her secrets and misgivings.
Her fingers made out a tip of the cloth, the putrid scent that caused her mouth to salivate, the adrenaline that coursed through her body. As she yanked on the piece of cloth, the rest revealed itself. The silk, though caked in dirt, still had that luscious feel against her skin, embroidered with the leaves and flowers that were supposed to grow on the trees above her. She brought the fabric up to her nose, fluttering her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply.
You don’t have to do this.
But she did. Her hands trembled as she lowered it down to her lips, unable to control herself as she swiped her tongue across the surface. The taste was electrifying, so overwhelming with flavor that she couldn’t control her fangs as they sunk deep into rotting flesh. That first break, like the snap of a soda cap, the pop of a bag of chips, opened a doorway to addiction. Her body moved on its own, hunched over her spoiled treasures as she pierced the skin again and again. Anyone could’ve snuck up on her, but she wouldn’t care, so long as they didn’t disturb her as she ripped the limbs into shreds.
Though long gone, she could still taste the soul that lingered, faint memories of a life once lived. Years of hard labor, the slow realization of falling in love, transforming into a lifelong devotion until their death. They were mesmerizing, melding with Ahri’s own soul to become a distant memory. A soul filled with stories that weren’t her own, emotions captured between her lips, able to morph them into visions of her choosing. Even visions for herself.
Once the flesh had been peeled away, she snapped the bones between her teeth, slurping away at the soft marrow. She sucked on clumps of remaining hair, planted kisses along the half-lidded eyes, and added a touch of rouge to the parched lips. Methodically, she picked clean every crevice, until there was no more, laying the hollow pile of bones to rest in the hole. Her mark had been left. And then, she would rise, wipe away the grime off her face, flick the dirt off her tails, and set off, her hunger satiated and her heart full of shame.