THE DOOR TO ROOM 17

THE APARTMENT NEXT DOOR

Rain had been falling since the moment Madison Carter crossed the state line.

By the time her father's SUV finally turned onto the quiet streets of Hawthorne, Oregon, the sky had settled into a dull gray, and the windshield wipers moved steadily from side to side.

Madison rested her forehead against the passenger window.

Hawthorne wasn't what she had expected.

The town was smaller than the city they'd left behind, surrounded by tall evergreen trees and low hills disappearing beneath the afternoon mist. The streets were quiet, the houses older, and everything seemed strangely peaceful.

Too peaceful.

"Almost there," her father said from behind the wheel.

Madison gave a small hum in response.

From the back seat, her younger brother, Noah, groaned dramatically.

"We've been 'almost there' for forty minutes."

"You've asked Dad that question six times," Madison said without turning around.

"Because every answer has been a lie."

Their mother laughed softly.

"Both of you, give your father a break."

A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of Blackwood Apartments.

Madison looked up.

The building was four stories high, made of dark brick with rows of identical windows. It wasn't beautiful, exactly, but it wasn't ugly either. It looked like the kind of place that had been built decades ago and carefully maintained just enough to keep people from complaining.

Her father parked near the entrance.

"Home sweet home," he announced.

Madison stared at the building.

"Let's not get carried away."

Noah was already out of the car before their mother could tell him to wait.

Inside, Blackwood Apartments was warmer than Madison expected.

The lobby smelled faintly of old carpet and fresh paint. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a row of mailboxes lined one wall.

Her father collected the keys from the landlord's office downstairs, and the family made their way toward the elevator with their bags and boxes.

When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, Madison stepped out first.

The hallway stretched in both directions.

And that was when she began noticing the doors.

Apartment after apartment looked almost identical.

Most had small brass nameplates beside the doors.

THE HARRIS FAMILY.

M. RODRIGUEZ.

THE WILSONS.

Some had colorful welcome mats. One had a little potted plant beside it. Another had a pair of muddy sneakers sitting neatly outside.

Behind one door, Madison could hear a television playing.

From another came the sound of laughter.

Somewhere farther down the hall, a woman was talking to someone about dinner.

It felt lived-in.

Normal.

Then Madison's eyes moved farther down the corridor.

And stopped.

17.

The apartment directly beside theirs looked completely different.

The door was older than the others, its dark wood faded and scratched in places. There was no nameplate beside it.

No welcome mat.

No shoes.

No plant.

Nothing.

It looked as though someone had simply forgotten that the apartment existed.

Madison slowed.

Her father stopped in front of the next door.

"Here we are."

Room 16.

He pulled the key from his pocket.

Madison looked from their new apartment to Room 17.

The contrast was almost unsettling.

Room 16 had a clean door, a shiny brass number, and a small gray mat waiting outside.

Room 17 looked as though it belonged to another building entirely.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"What's with that apartment?"

Her father followed her gaze.

"Which one?"

"Seventeen."

He glanced at it for a moment.

"That's been empty for years."

"Why?"

Her mother, who was carrying a box behind them, answered instead.

"The landlord didn't really say."

Madison frowned.

"Didn't say?"

"He just told us no one has lived there for years," her mother explained. "That's all."

"Why wouldn't anyone live there?"

Her mother shrugged.

"I don't know, Maddie. Maybe it needs repairs."

Madison looked at the door again.

It didn't look like it needed repairs.

It looked like it needed to be forgotten.

"Come on," her father said, unlocking Room 16. "We've got a lot of work to do."

The door swung open.

Noah immediately ran inside.

"I call the room with the biggest window!"

"You haven't even seen the rooms!" Madison called after him.

"I can tell from the hallway!"

Her father laughed as he carried the first box inside.

Madison hesitated for another second.

Her eyes returned to Room 17.

Nothing moved.

No sound came from behind the door.

She finally stepped inside.

The apartment was brighter and more spacious than she had expected. Boxes were soon scattered across the living room, and within an hour, the place had transformed into a chaotic mess of clothes, books, kitchenware, and half-opened suitcases.

By early evening, Madison's room was beginning to look like hers.

Her posters were on the walls.

Her books were stacked beside her desk.

Her clothes were slowly finding their way into the closet.

For the first time since leaving home, the apartment started to feel less like a temporary stop and more like somewhere they might actually live.

After dinner, her father suggested they introduce themselves to the neighbors.

So the four of them walked through the hallway, knocking on doors.

Most of the residents were welcoming.

The Harris family invited them in for a few minutes. An elderly man named Mr. Bennett introduced himself from across the hall. A woman named Mrs. Palmer brought them a plate of cookies and apologized for how noisy her grandchildren could be.

Everyone seemed friendly.

Almost everyone.

As they stood chatting with a few neighbors near the elevator, Madison's eyes drifted down the hallway.

Toward Room 17.

She turned back.

"So," she said casually, "how long has Room 17 been empty?"

The conversation stopped.

Not completely.

But enough.

Mrs. Palmer's smile disappeared for half a second.

Mr. Bennett looked toward the elevator.

Someone suddenly became very interested in the cookies in their hands.

Madison noticed.

Her mother noticed too.

"She was just curious," her mother said.

"Of course," Mrs. Palmer replied quickly.

Madison waited.

Nobody answered.

Finally, Mr. Bennett cleared his throat.

"It's been empty a long time."

"How long?"

He shrugged.

"Years."

"Do you know why?"

Another silence.

Then Mrs. Palmer smiled again.

"Some things are better left alone, dear."

Madison blinked.

Before she could ask what that meant, Mrs. Palmer changed the subject.

By the time they returned to their apartment, Madison had learned absolutely nothing.

Except that everyone seemed to know something she didn't.

And nobody wanted to tell her.

---

That night, rain tapped softly against Madison's bedroom window.

She lay across her bed with her laptop open, watching videos while her headphones rested around her neck.

The apartment was quiet.

Her parents had gone to bed.

Noah had stopped making noise hours ago.

Madison glanced at the clock.

2:16 a.m.

She yawned and reached for her phone.

Then—

Knock.

Madison froze.

She slowly lowered her phone.

The sound had come from the wall beside her bed.

The wall separating her apartment from Room 17.

She stared at it.

Nothing.

Probably the pipes.

She turned back toward her laptop.

Then—

Knock.

Madison sat upright.

A few seconds passed.

She waited.

Nothing.

She let out a quiet breath and reached for her phone again.

The clock changed.

2:17 a.m.

Three seconds later—

Knock.

Madison's hand stopped.

Her eyes slowly moved toward the wall.

And for the first time since moving into Blackwood Apartments, she wondered what was actually on the other side.