Chapter 1
— THE GIRL IN APARTMENT 17 Maya had always believed that some people entered your life quietly, without warning, without explanation, and without leaving any obvious sign that they were about to change everything. She was wrong about one thing. The girl in Apartment 17 did not enter Maya’s life quietly. She arrived on a stormy Thursday night with a black suitcase, a broken umbrella, and a secret that would eventually make Maya question every memory she had ever trusted. The rain had started just before sunset. By nine o’clock, the streets outside the old Riverside building were almost empty. Water streamed down the windows of Maya’s apartment while the city lights shimmered through the glass like distant stars. Maya sat on the floor beside her bed, surrounded by notebooks, unfinished drawings, and a half-empty cup of coffee that had already gone cold. She was supposed to be studying, but she had been staring at the same page for nearly forty minutes. Then someone knocked. Maya froze. Nobody visited her this late. She slowly stood and walked toward the door. Another knock came, louder this time. “Who is it?” No answer. Maya looked through the peephole. The hallway was empty. She opened the door a few inches. Cold air rushed inside. Then she heard footsteps coming from the staircase. A girl appeared at the end of the corridor. She was carrying a black suitcase in one hand and holding a broken umbrella in the other. Her dark hair was soaked by the rain, and a few strands were stuck against her cheek. She stopped when she noticed Maya standing in the doorway. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. “I’m sorry,” the girl finally said. “Is this Apartment 17?” Maya glanced at the number beside her door. “Yes.” The girl looked relieved. “Good.” “You’re moving in?” “Yes.” “Tonight?” The girl gave a small, tired smile. “Apparently.” Maya stepped aside. “You should probably talk to the landlord. He lives downstairs.” “I already did.” “He gave you the key?” The girl reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a silver key. “Apartment 17.” Maya stared at it. Something about the key bothered her. Not because it was unusual. Because she had seen it before. She just couldn't remember where. “You okay?” the girl asked. Maya blinked. “Yeah. Sorry.” The girl smiled again. “I’m Elena.” “Maya.” “I know.” Maya’s expression changed. “You know me?” Elena’s smile disappeared for half a second. “I mean... the landlord mentioned your name.” “Oh.” A silence followed. Maya moved away from the doorway. “Welcome to Riverside.” “Thanks.” Elena pulled her suitcase toward Apartment 17, which was directly across the hall from Maya’s apartment. Maya watched as Elena unlocked the door. Before entering, Elena looked back. For a strange moment, her eyes met Maya’s with an expression that Maya could not understand. It looked almost like recognition. Then Elena disappeared inside. Maya closed her own door. She leaned against it. Something was wrong. She didn't know what. But something was wrong. At 2:13 in the morning, Maya woke to the sound of glass breaking. She sat up instantly. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was. Then another sound came from across the hallway. A woman’s voice. Elena. Maya got out of bed. She opened her door. Apartment 17 was slightly open. “Elena?” No answer. Maya pushed the door. The apartment was dark. “Elena?” She stepped inside. A lamp flickered near the window. A suitcase lay open on the floor. Clothes were scattered across the room. One glass had shattered near the kitchen. Then Maya noticed something on the wall. A photograph. She walked closer. Her breath stopped. The photograph showed two little girls standing beside a lake. One girl was smiling at the camera. The other was looking away. Maya recognized the girl who was looking away. It was her. She was eight years old. She had not seen that photograph in twelve years. Her hands began to shake. “How...?” A voice came from behind her. “You weren't supposed to see that.” Maya turned. Elena stood in the doorway. Her face was pale. “What is that photograph?” Elena didn't answer. “Why am I in it?” Still nothing. Maya stepped toward her. “Elena, how do you have this?” Elena looked at the photograph. Then at Maya. “Because I was there.” Maya felt the room tilt beneath her. “You were there?” “Yes.” “When?” “Before you forgot me.” The words struck harder than they should have. Maya stared at her. “I don't know you.” Elena's eyes filled with something that looked like sadness. “You used to.” A long silence filled the apartment. Outside, thunder rolled across the city. Maya looked again at the photograph. There was something written on the back. She turned it over. Three words were written in faded blue ink. DON'T TRUST HER. Maya looked at Elena. Elena was already staring at the message. “Who wrote that?” Maya whispered. Elena slowly shook her head. “I don't know.” “You expect me to believe that?” “No.” “Then tell me the truth.” “I can't.” “Why?” “Because if I tell you everything tonight, you might disappear again.” Maya stepped backward. “What does that mean?” Elena moved closer. “Maya, listen to me. Twelve years ago, something happened at that lake.” “I don't remember.” “I know.” “What happened?” Elena looked toward the window. “Someone tried to kill you.” Maya's heart stopped. “What?” “And I was the only person who saw it.” The lights suddenly went out. Maya screamed. A loud crash came from the hallway. Then footsteps. Someone was running down the stairs. Elena grabbed Maya's hand. “Don't move.” “Who was that?” “I don't know.” “You said someone tried to kill me.” “I said I saw it.” “What's the difference?” Elena looked directly into her eyes. “The difference is that the person who tried to kill you twelve years ago may know that you're starting to remember.” The lights came back. The apartment was empty. The front door stood open. And on the floor, directly beneath the photograph, was a small white envelope. Maya picked it up. Her name was written across the front. MAYA. She opened it. Inside was a single photograph. It showed the same lake. But this time, there were three children in the picture. Maya. Elena. And a third girl whose face had been scratched away. On the back, someone had written: SHE REMEMBERS YOU. Maya looked at Elena. “Who is she?” Elena's face changed completely. For the first time since arriving, she looked genuinely afraid. “That,” she whispered, “is the girl we were both told never existed.” And somewhere outside the building, a car engine started. Someone had been waiting for them. Someone who knew Elena had returned. And someone who knew Maya was finally beginning to remember.
