They look like people

11

The taxi driver unloaded my suitcase and wished me a good night with a portuguese accent, leaving me alone in a desert street. It was on a little hill, and if I placed myself on tiptoes I could catch a glimpse between the roofs over a part of the city below, and further away, on the glistening surface of the ocean, darker than the darkest ink and breathtakingly enormous.

I had never seen the ocean before.

Once I had taken in the view and calmed down the thousand of thoughts in my mind, I let my eyes wander through the calm street, where colorful houses were tightly pressed one against each other. Even though I was sure that the street and architecture had to be stunning, the only thing my paranoid brain was taking in, were the shadows of the lanterns and the houses that were stretching into threatening silhouettes.

I had like a déjà-vu.

Uneasiness made my heartbeats accelerate and I turned around, suddenly in hurry to enter the piercing blue house the taxi had left me in front of. I gathered all of my stuff on the sidewalk and wanted to open the door as a thought hit me.

I had no key.

Just to be sure, I grabbed the old-fashioned handle to test if it was really closed and almost immediately a stinging pain went through my index, and I let out a sharp exhale. Before I could process what just happened, the door gave a little clicking sound and the door opened itself.

As I looked on my finger, I saw a dark droplet of blood pearling from my index.

I blinked a few times, frozen in front of the half open door, understanding that the opening system of the door used a drop of blood. A genetic, pre-programmed key that I was sure not to lose.

Once I gathered myself, I entered the house, dragged my stuff behind me and quickly pushed the door close. I let out loud exhale, before the little voice in my head appeared once, whispering in my ears.

Do you really think that this is gonna keep you safe? Do you really believe that the door is harder to break than Rachel's neck?

I chose to ignore the poisoned words in my mind and began climbing the steps of the squeaking wood stairs that lead to the top floors, tightly clutching the handle of my suitcase.

Once I reached the last, fourth floor, I prepared myself mentally for the sting in my index when grabbing the door handle. The apartment seemed to extend on the whole floor of the house, because I could not see any other door.

As the door swung open, I braced myself for... everything, or better said everyone that could be awaiting behind it. But... it was empty.

Besides the strong scent of wood, and sweeter one - maybe fruits- that wafted me in the face, nothing gave away that this place was habited.

The apartment was empty, all the lights were out and nobody was in there. The only source of light was coming from the large windows that where stretching themselves till the high ceiling of the space, letting the dull light of the city center and the moon illuminate the wooden parquet and drawing the outline of the furnitures.

Were they all sleeping? Was I in the wrong apartment?

Tiptoeing to what seemed to be the living room area, I tripped twice over my own suitcase and bag before finding a lamp that I could switch on. As the subdued light shone through the apartment, I couldn't stop myself and let out an amazed sound.

The space was bigger, far bigger than I intended it would be and was more comfortable than everything I had ever lived in. Standing in what must be the living room area, I discovered a large dining table in front of me, rugs with bright, colorful stripes and a modern kitchen to my left. I could see the little balcony that offered an incredible view on the city center and the ocean below the little hill the house was standing. If I concentrated a bit, I could hear the faint rumor of the city sounds, the traffic, some very loud music...