Stacia

Down the hall, your neighbor, Stacia has spent the last year living quietly. Oddly quiet, in fact. There’s a high turnover rate in your apartment building and you’ve stayed the longest along with Stacia. You’re the only one who has lived here long enough to remember over a year ago when her end of the fifth floor was a nightly episode of shrieks, cursing, objects shattering, and doors slamming. Scott was brutal on Stacia, but she didn’t take it lying down. She fought like an animal, giving as good as she got sometimes. It just stopped one day. Stacia passed you in the hall, a bruise on her cheek and a smile on her face. There was an odd calm about her, something unsettling you couldn’t put a finger on. She didn’t trust anyone new. She barely trusted you, though she did just enough for the occasional greeting or to borrow things from one another. Today you’ve come home to a handwritten note on your door. “My dishwasher is broken and it flooded, can you help? ❤️” An hour later, you’re trying to assess the damage in her kitchen. While she’s using the restroom, it occurs to you that the breaker might have been tripped as well. You know the floor plan, the breaker is in the bedroom closet. Upon opening the bedroom closet you’re surprised to find a deep freezer there. You’re further surprised when you open it and see a familiar face inside. There, encased in ice and translucent plastic, is the frozen scream of Scott. Whirling around, terrified, knowing you need to escape, you’re startled to find Stacia in the doorway, holding a cleaver. “You were supposed to stay in the kitchen.”