Whispers in Apartment 9B The first strange thing Ava noticed wasn’t the smell—it was the sound. Every night at 3:17 a.m., someone in Apartment 9B whispered her name. At first, she laughed it off. The walls were thin, the pipes groaned—it had to be her imagination. But on the fourth night, she heard it again. Soft. Clear. “Ava.” She lived alone. --- The next morning, she knocked on the door of 9B. An elderly woman answered, her eyes tired but kind. Ava asked, “Have you been hearing… voices at night?” The woman’s smile faded. “9B’s been empty for months,” she said. “No one lives there.” --- That night, Ava pressed her ear to the wall between their apartments. Silence. Then—a thud. Then another. Then a faint scratching sound, coming from inside the wall. She ran to the landlord the next morning. He sighed and handed her a faded envelope. “You’re not the first tenant to complain about 9B.” Inside was an old photo: a young woman smiling beside a door marked 9B. On the back, a name—Ava Whitmore. Her name. --- She froze. The landlord frowned. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ava could barely speak. “Where did you get this?” He shrugged. “It was left behind… after she disappeared.” --- That night, the whispers came again—but this time, clearer. “Get out.” The lights flickered. Her phone buzzed on the counter, showing a new message from an unknown number: “Check the vent.” With shaking hands, Ava unscrewed the metal cover of the air vent. Inside, wrapped in dust and cobwebs, was a small cassette tape labeled “9B.” --- She found an old player in her storage box and pressed play. Static. Then a woman’s voice—her own voice—speaking through tears. “If anyone finds this… he knows what I did. Don’t trust—” The tape cut off with a scream. --- Ava’s phone rang, making her jump. Unknown number. She answered. A man’s voice whispered, “Welcome home, Ava. It’s time to remember.” Then a knock on the door. Three slow taps. She turned toward it— And saw the handle begin to move.