Chapter 323

Something wasn't right with the plumbing.

Kayla had been living in the small apartment for just over two months, and everything had been normal—well, if "normal" was something she could claim anymore. It was cheap, which is what had made it so appealing.

The rent was low enough to justify the thin walls and the cracked tiles in the bathroom, but the problems didn't start until about a week ago. At first, she thought it was just a strange coincidence. A random occurrence.

It wasn't.

She had woken up late that day, no time for breakfast. The early morning light slipped in through the blinds, casting the bathroom in a sickly yellow. Kayla shuffled to the toilet, her head a fog of exhaustion. She leaned forward, her fingers brushing the toilet seat, and then she saw it—a hand.

It wasn't hers.

A thin, pale hand, the nails sharp and cracked, barely visible beneath the surface of the water. The fingers seemed to move ever so slightly, twitching. She froze, unsure what to do, but before she could react, it was gone.

A momentary trick of the light, maybe? Her heart pounded in her chest. She blinked hard, but when she looked again, the toilet was empty. The water rippled, but there was nothing there.

She told herself it was just a bad dream, something her tired mind had cooked up. It made sense, right? Nothing else could explain it. She wasn't about to go crazy over a hand in the toilet.

But later that evening, it happened again.

She had come home from work, tired but craving a quick shower before bed. She didn't even think to check the bathroom, just walked in and yanked the door open. She froze. The toilet, once again, had something in it.

This time, it was a foot. A small, pale foot with a swollen toe. The skin was speckled with strange bruises, like something had been gnawing at it.

Kayla backed up a step, her breath caught in her throat. What the hell? What kind of sick joke was this?

No one had told her about this, not when she moved in, not when she signed the lease. She couldn't explain it, couldn't even process it. The foot seemed to twitch, but when she stepped closer, it was gone. Just gone, like it had never been there.

Her stomach twisted. She couldn't stop herself from wondering how long it had been there. How long had that foot been in the toilet?

She grabbed her phone and called the landlord, voice shaking. No answer. Not a single word from the other side of the line. She hung up, feeling foolish. It was just a glitch in the system, she told herself. No need to jump to conclusions.

That night, the silence in the apartment was suffocating.

Kayla sat in her living room, phone still clutched in her hand, staring at the blank screen. It had been hours since she last checked the bathroom, but the image of the foot, the way it had just… vanished, refused to leave her.

She didn't know what to think anymore. She didn't want to think. It wasn't real, she told herself. It was just her mind playing tricks.

But in the morning, it was back.

This time, it was an arm, the muscle definition strange and distorted, like the limb didn't belong to a person at all. It was too thin, the bones too sharp. The skin was an awful shade of pale gray, almost sickly, with dark veins running beneath.

The arm was positioned at an odd angle, the wrist bent in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable.

Kayla didn't scream. She couldn't. All she could do was stand there, frozen, staring at the arm, its fingers twitching as if beckoning her to come closer. Slowly, she backed away, and just like that, it was gone.

She had no idea what to do.

She checked the pipes, sure that it had something to do with the plumbing. Maybe it was a malfunction, a breakdown in the system. But when she pulled open the access panel under the sink, there was nothing wrong. No leaks, no cracks. Just the same old pipes. Her phone buzzed, dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts. It was a text from her friend, Lisa.

"Hey, you good?"

Kayla hadn't spoken to her much lately. She'd kept to herself, trying to push past the oddness that had begun to overtake her life. But she was desperate now. She typed a quick response.

"Something's happening with the bathroom. I don't know what to do."

She waited, but no response came. It was late by then, and Lisa was probably asleep. Kayla locked herself in her bedroom that night, the shadows outside her window growing deeper as the hours wore on. She couldn't sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the strange body parts. What did they mean? Why were they showing up in her toilet?

The next morning, she couldn't bring herself to even look at the bathroom. The very thought of it made her stomach churn. But she had to go. She had to face it.

And when she opened the door, she saw what looked like half a face—just the eyes, wide and glassy, staring back at her from the bowl. They were the eyes of a man, dark and hollow, and when she stared at them, she felt something stir deep within her. Her hands trembled as she stepped closer. The eyes blinked, slow, deliberate.

Kayla recoiled, stumbling back, her heart racing. How was this even possible? It made no sense.

She turned and ran out of the apartment, her mind in a panic. She had to leave. She had to get away. She couldn't stay here, not anymore. She grabbed her keys, her purse, and made her way to the door. But when she opened it, she froze.

There, standing in the doorway, was the landlord.

He was tall, his face pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he stood, his posture too rigid.

"You've seen them, haven't you?" His voice was low, almost a rasp.

She didn't speak. How could she?

"They don't go away," he said. "Once you've seen them, there's no escaping."

Kayla didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say. The landlord stepped aside, allowing her to see into the hallway.

It was the same as her bathroom—body parts, scattered all over the floor. Arms, legs, heads. All mismatched, their skin rotting, their flesh falling apart, yet still moving. The stench filled the hallway, thick and rancid.

"It's been happening for years," the landlord continued. "People come here, and then they start seeing the parts. They never leave. They're part of the building now."

Kayla felt a deep sense of dread, sinking into her gut. She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn't move.

"They're not dead," he whispered. "And they're not alive. They're just waiting for you."

And with that, the apartment door slammed shut. The darkness swallowed her whole.

The next morning, they found her body in the bathroom. Her eyes wide open, staring into the empty toilet bowl.

No one ever found out what had really happened to her.

The landlord moved out soon after. The apartment sat empty, its walls decaying, the plumbing slowly giving way to whatever had been buried beneath. The body parts never stopped coming. They were part of the place now, part of the city. And once you saw them, they followed you, too.