Previous Owners Lodge in My Attic; I Ensure No Return

The day I bought the house, the previous owner made a point of telling me.

This complex doesn't have attics, so the price is lower.

I glanced at the sealed-up ceiling and didn't think much of it.

After I moved in, I noticed my electric bill never dropped below five hundred a month.

I figured it was old wiring.

Then one midnight, coming home from a business trip, I walked in on the previous owner's family eating a late-night meal in my living room.

I tried to call the police, and he knocked me out and tied me up.

Then threw me into the attic and left me to starve to death.

It was only later that I understood.

In the second bedroom, inside the closet, there was a hidden door leading up to the attic.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd been reborn, back to the day before that trip.

This time it was my turn to hide in the attic and play hide-and-seek with them.

1. I lifted my head and stared at the sealed ceiling above me.

The corner of my mouth curled up, little by little.

In my past life I was starved to death in that attic. Seven full days.

Right now, all four of them were up there.

Like four rats.

Using my water and power, eating my snacks, wearing my clothes.

Freeloading in my home for a whole six months.

I drew a long breath and pressed down the hatred surging inside me.

I knew I couldn't rush this. I had to take it slow.

After all, our roles were swapped now.

I had a thousand ways to make them wish they were dead.

For now I went through my routine, washing up as usual, so the rats upstairs wouldn't sense anything off.

When I finished, I came back to the living room and sat on the couch.

My phone rang right on time.

It was my boss.

"Mr. Clayton, the company wants to send me out of state for a business trip, is that right?"

I kept my voice steady, not too loud, not too soft, just enough for them to hear it clearly upstairs.

"About fifteen days?"

"Sure, no problem at all."

I hung up and strolled into the master bedroom to change.

The four demons upstairs had to be quietly celebrating.

Exactly like last time.

Fifteen days away, the house empty.

More than enough time for them to lord it over the place.

On my way out, I deliberately left the bedroom door not quite shut.

Left them a little gap to peek through.

Once I was downstairs, I didn't leave right away.

I ducked into the corner beside the building's entrance and took out my phone.

Through a friend's referral, I placed a call.

"Hello, is this the surveillance company?"

"I need a set of pinhole cameras, the most hidden kind you have."

"I need them now. I'll be waiting at the back gate of Serenwood Court."

I'd just hung up when the entrance door opened.

The previous owner's family, all four of them, came out chatting and laughing.

I knew exactly where they were headed, the supermarket nearby for a big shopping run.

Celebrating that the house was empty again.

I turned sideways and slipped into the corner.

Watched their backs disappear out the complex gate.

My heart was pounding.

Not from fear.

From excitement.

I glanced down at the time on my phone.

Every time they hit the supermarket, they were gone at least an hour and a half.

More than enough for what I had to do next.

Twenty minutes later, the guy from the surveillance company pulled up on an electric scooter.

I stuffed the black plastic bag into my purse.

Then walked quickly back toward the building.

The stairwell was quiet, nothing but the sound of my own footsteps.

Unlocked the door, stepped inside.

No wasted movement. Straight to the second bedroom.

I opened the closet, and there was the hidden door.

The attic wasn't big.

Four floor pallets were laid out crooked across the floor.

On the little dining table, dishes and chopsticks still sat uncleared.

In the corner, a pile of snack wrappers of every kind.

All of it brought home by me, from the office.

My hairdryer, too, tossed down beside a pillow.

They'd even had the nerve to put on a pair of my slippers.

Did they really think this was their own home?

I swallowed down the disgust.

Took the pinhole cameras out of the bag.

One in the vent.

Aimed right at the table, to catch them eating.

One in the corner.

Wide angle, covering the whole attic living space.

One above the floor pallets.

Just to catch how ugly they looked while they slept.

Right, the hidden door entrance needed one too.

To record every time they came and went.

With each one I installed, I checked the feed on my phone.

The angle had to be perfect.

The lighting had to be clear.

I was going to capture every single day of theirs, crisp and complete.

Every teeth-baring grin included.

Every filthy word, and every look in their eyes.

Once all the cameras were in place, I moved to go back down through the hidden door.

I didn't expect the front door in the entryway to suddenly rattle.

I'd counted on them being gone at least an hour and a half.

But I forgot one thing.

The previous owner's second son had a habit of leaving things behind.

Every time he went out, he forgot something.

His footsteps were heavy, impatient.

I looked down through the peephole in the attic floor.

"Always making me come back for it. What a pain!"

Then he stopped short.

He was staring at the shoe cabinet, where my heels were lined up.

Toes pointed out, perfectly straight.

"Which shoes did she wear out this morning?"

Lucky for me, I always kept my shoes neat, and I hadn't left a single trace.

He shrugged it off and turned into the master bedroom.

Straight to the nightstand, like he'd done it a hundred times.

Second drawer, open.

Inside was a small box where I kept my cash.

He pulled out a stack of bills, didn't even count them.

Just shoved them into his pocket.

And every move he made was caught on camera.

High-def, no blind spots.

Passing the coffee table, he stopped again.

My car keys were sitting on it.

He hesitated for a second or two, then grabbed them.

"She's away on a trip anyway. She won't notice if I take the car out."

The door closed again.

I crept down from the attic.

No rush to leave.

First I checked the camera feeds.

Every frame was live, the picture crystal clear.

Then I went to the shoe cabinet.

I took out the heels I'd bought a couple of days earlier, still in the box.

So they wouldn't catch on to anything.

Then I closed up and went downstairs.

Caught a cab to the hotel.

For the next two days, my phone barely left my hand.

I watched the feeds nonstop.

Five split screens, like a twenty-four-hour reality show.

The first night, they started celebrating.

The previous owner raised a can of beer.

They'd used my money to buy a mountain of food and drinks.

It nearly covered the whole coffee table.

"Dad, why don't we have the guys over for cards tomorrow?"

The second son stuffed meat into his mouth.

"Place is empty anyway. Be a waste not to use it."

The previous owner thought about it, then nodded.

"Fine, tell them to come in the afternoon."

"But remember, we clean up spotless at night."

"Not a single hair left behind."

The second son thumped his chest.

"Relax, it's not our first time."

The next afternoon, three people showed up at the house.

A mahjong table went up in the living room.

Smoke everywhere, beer bottles rolling across the floor.

They were hollering and carrying on in my living room.

Ash flicked onto the floor, tea spilled on the couch.

One of the men got drunk.

Went straight to my bed and slept it off.

I stared at the screen.

Not angry. If anything, I wanted to laugh.

Laugh at how close they were to ruin, and how little they knew it.

Every night, after the last of them left,

the whole family started their deep clean.

The vacuum droned, rags wiped back and forth.

Everything they'd touched went back in place.

Even the remote on the coffee table had to sit at the exact angle it had been.

The previous owner would check each room himself.

"This won't do. Wipe it again."

"Pillow's wrong. It was tilted before she went to sleep."

"Slippers are off by three centimeters."

Watching it, I couldn't help but be impressed.

No wonder I lived here half a year in my last life and never noticed.

They knew me better than my own mother.

The fourth night.

I figured the timing was about right.

They were celebrating again, cooking up a big dinner in my apartment.

I put on my coat and went down to catch a cab.

"Serenwood Court."

When the car reached the entrance, I had the driver stop somewhere obvious on purpose.

I got out of the cab.

Looked up at my own window.

The lights were on, shadows moving.

The next second, the picture changed.

The feeds erupted into chaos.

"She's back! She's back!"

The previous owner's wife shrieked in a hushed voice.

"That's impossible. Didn't they say fifteen days?"

"It's only day four!"

"Cut the chatter, clean it up!"

The elder son's face went white.

He carried off the whole pot, swept all the leftover food into a trash bag.

Dumped it into the attic along with the rest of the garbage.

The four of them scurried around the place like startled rats.

I was just about to head into the building when my phone rang.

Three characters popped up on the screen.

The previous owner.

I knew what he was after, and I picked up without a flicker in my voice.

"Homer, is something the matter?"

He started firing off questions over the phone.

"Kitty, how's the place treating you? Nothing wrong with it, right?"

His tone was warm in a way that didn't fit.

I glanced at the camera feed.

All four of them were frantically shoving things into the attic.

"It's great, Homer."

I slowed my steps.

"How've you been lately? Work going okay?"

He kept it up.

If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he'd lost his mind.

The house had been sold for over half a year, and now he pulls this out of nowhere.

"Same as always, can't complain."

I drew the words out on purpose.

Every step slow and unhurried, like I was out for a stroll.

On the feed, the living room was nearly cleared.

The pot carried off, the trash bags all flung into the attic.

Three more minutes and they'd have everything back in place.

"Oh, right, Homer, how are your sons doing these days?"

I steered the topic somewhere else on purpose.

Homer clearly froze for a second.

"Ah, good, good, they're all doing fine."

As I spoke, I stopped at the foot of the stairs and stayed put.

Give them a little more time.

It went on like that for about five minutes.

Then Homer suddenly said something had come up and hung up.

I opened the camera feed.

The living room was spotless, as if nothing had ever happened.

Even the creases in the cushions had been smoothed out.

I put the phone away and went up to unlock the door.

Changed my shoes as usual, took off my jacket.

Every move exactly like any other day.

Every room upstairs had a hidden peephole.

Four pairs of eyes watching me at every moment.

When I learned about it in my last life, my skin crawled.

Like standing stripped bare in front of someone.

As for now, let them watch.

It didn't matter anymore.

I curled up on the couch and turned on the TV.

Tapped on some hit drama at random.

The phone screen stayed lit, a Bluetooth earbud tucked in my ear.

The sounds from the attic came through clearly.

"Honey, why do you think that little brat came charging back all of a sudden?"

Homer's wife kept her voice low.

"We haven't had our fill up here yet."

The elder son joined in with a complaint.

"Yeah, I even had Tingting coming over tomorrow."

"Now the whole thing's shot."

The younger son cut in.

"You think she'll notice the money's short?"

"And the fact that I took her car for a spin?"

Homer let out a scornful little laugh, unbothered.

"Her? Notice?"

"We've eaten and lived here free for half a year, and she hasn't caught a thing."

"With a brain like that, she could live here a lifetime and never figure it out."

His wife heard that and chimed right in.

"True enough, you don't see stupid like that often."

"But honey, it's way too hot up here."

"I told you to put in an AC and you wouldn't, just bought some junk fan."

"And it cuts in and out. You trying to cook us alive?"

Homer was getting impatient.

"Quit complaining, keep an eye on her first."

"Figure out why she suddenly came back this time."

I leaned back on the couch, the corner of my mouth curving up almost too faintly to see.

A junk fan?

And that was already too much to bear?

In my last life, you left me in that attic to starve for seven days.

I didn't even have a junk fan.

I turned on the AC and pulled the blanket tight around me.

The TV stayed on.

At ten that night, I dialed my best friend.

Put it on speaker, and pitched my voice a little louder as I said,

"Hey, sweetie."

"I want to replace the closets in both bedrooms."

My best friend went quiet for two seconds, then answered.

"Aren't your closets built-in?"

"They are, but the style's dated, I want something new."

I leaned back on the couch, keeping my tone casual.

"Come with me to the furniture warehouse store tomorrow to have a look."

"I'm home the next couple days, might as well get it done."

The former owner was sleeping like a baby when his wife smacked him awake.

"Wake up! We've got a problem!"

"She's replacing the closets in both bedrooms!"

He bolted upright.

Threw himself at the peephole and looked down.

I was holding up my phone, going back and forth with my best friend about styles.

"This European one's nice. But the minimalist one's good too."

"Let's go check them out in person tomorrow."

His face went green. He dropped his voice and swore.

"Is there something wrong with her?"

"What's the point of changing perfectly good closets?"

"We had them built in exactly so nobody would go poking around!"

His wife panicked.

"So what do we do now?"

The elder son, though, stayed calm.

"Easy. Tomorrow when she's out, we wall over the side with the hidden door."

"Once she's swapped the closets, we break it back open."

"Nobody will ever know."

The younger son sounded uneasy.

"Will that work? What if we get caught?"

The elder son shot him a look.

"With a brain like hers, what's she going to catch?"

The former owner thought it over for a long moment, then nodded.

"Looks like it's the only way."

"That door's too obvious. If she finds it, we're all finished."

Listening to the four rats sit there and plot against me right under my feet,

I nearly laughed out loud more than once, and swallowed it back every time.

The younger son suddenly lowered his voice.

"Dad, if you ask me, we should just end it for good."

"Wait till she's asleep, kill her, dump the body in the attic."

"Then wall it up. Who'd ever know?"

"She lives alone anyway, barely talks to her family."

"She could be dead and no one would notice."

His mother swung out and hit him.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

But the former owner said nothing. He was silent for several seconds.

"It's not out of the question."

His tone was perfectly calm.

I held my water glass and kept watching TV without a flicker.

Pretending I'd heard none of it.

They wanted to kill me?

Fine.

Then let's see who ends up dead first.

I didn't sleep that night.

Just sat on the living room sofa watching TV.

One show after another, straight through till morning.

Upstairs, the four of them waited for me to fall asleep.

Deep into the night, they couldn't hold out any longer.

"Is she not sleeping at all tonight?"

"Damn it. She goes to bed early every night, and tonight of all nights she stays up."

By five in the morning, they finally gave up.

At first light I washed up and headed out.

Took a cab straight to my best friend's place.

The former owner watched me leave through the peephole.

He turned at once to the elder son. "Hurry, go buy cement!"

They mixed it all up and hauled the bricks in.

He worked the wall from the outside.

His wife and sons passed him what he needed from inside the attic.

They kept at it all morning.

The wall was sealed up tight.

"I'll head out first. Once she's done with the closets I'll come back and knock it open."

"You three stay put in there and behave."

The former owner cleaned up again, picked up his tools, and left.

I sat on my best friend's sofa.

Watching the camera feed on my phone.

Up in the attic, the three of them leaned against the freshly sealed wall, panting.

A hundred degrees out, and only the one fan.

And the garbage they'd been too lazy to take out, piled all over the attic.

When I saw the former owner walk out the building door,

the corners of my mouth lifted. I knew the moment had come.

My best friend brought over a cup of coffee.

"You're really replacing the closets?"

"I thought about it all night. I've decided not to after all."

She said I was crazy.

I didn't explain. I stepped outside and called a locksmith.

"Hi, I need my locks changed."

"Yes, a security door. Right now."

I got there just about the same time as the guy.

Watched him swap out the cylinder, took the new keys in hand, and only then relaxed.

I set down my bag and called my best friend, smiling.

"Honey, I've already quit my job."

"I'm planning to take it easy at home for six months."