My name is Linh. I'm twenty-four years old and work at a garment factory.
Last month, my old landlady kicked me out because I was three days late on rent. It was mid-July, and the rain was coming down in sheets. I hauled one suitcase and two bags of clothes around looking for a new place to live. I checked out four or five boarding houses. One charged two million dong a month; another had six people packed into a shared room. I made six million dong a month, and after food and sending money home, there wasn't much left.
That afternoon, I saw a piece of paper taped to a utility pole: "ROOM FOR RENT. 800,000 DONG A MONTH. ONE-MILLION-DONG DEPOSIT. ON TEA HILL. CONTACT: MRS. LAN" The price was cheap. Abnormally cheap. I called right away.
The elderly woman's voice on the other end was very gentle. "Sweetheart, come on up. I've only got one room left. It's on Tea Hill, so it's really cool up there."
Tea Hill was seven kilometers from downtown. No buses went there. I had to take a motorbike taxi. I didn't arrive until five in the afternoon. The boarding house was a row of green-painted single-story rental buildings. Tea plants surrounded it on every side. The wind howled through. It was cold, even in the afternoon.
The landlady looked to be around fifty-five. Her hair was tied in a bun, and she wore a traditional blouse and pants. She smiled. "You're the girl who called? Come take a look at the room."
She led me up to the third floor. The hallway was long and dark. Every room had the same green-painted door. It smelled damp and moldy, with something else underneath... fishy, like well water.
"This is the nicest room in the building." She opened the last door. The room was fifteen square meters. It had a metal bed, a ceiling fan, and a private bathroom. The window looked out over the tea plants. It really was cool in there.
"How much is it?" I asked, my heart pounding with hope. "Eight hundred thousand a month. One million for the security deposit. Electricity and water are separate," she replied.
It was so cheap. I trembled with joy. I hurriedly pulled out my wallet. "Yes, ma'am. I'll put down the deposit right now."
She took the money, stuffed it into her pocket, and warned me, "All right. But let me tell you this first. It's quiet here. After midnight... if anyone knocks on the door, don't open it. Just ignore it."
I froze. "Huh? Why, ma'am?" She smiled, a gentle smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just kids fooling around. Besides... the wind on Tea Hill gets strong at night. It's easy to hear things wrong."
With that, she turned and walked away. Her shadow disappeared down the stairs, but a chill ran down my spine.
That night, I moved in. The room was clean, except for an old mirror the size of my hand hanging on the wall. I wiped it down and went to sleep. I was exhausted.
Midnight. I was fast asleep when...
Knock... knock... knock...
Three soft knocks at the door. From the hallway outside. I jolted awake. My heart pounded. I looked at the clock: 12:03.
I remembered the landlady's warning. I lay perfectly still and pulled the blanket over my head. The knocking stopped dead.
One in the morning. Another knock knock. This time, it was closer. As if someone were knocking right on my door.
I trembled, breaking out in a cold sweat. I grabbed my phone and called the landlady. The number you have dialed is unavailable.
I stood frozen in the courtyard, both legs stiff as ice. The wind sweeping down from Tea Hill made me shiver. The morning sun was out, so why was it so cold?
"The sandals... I left them in the room, ma'am," I whispered. The landlady didn't answer. She only stared at me for a long time. Her eyes were cloudy, as if she were looking straight through me. Then she bent down and kept sweeping, muttering, "Not again..."
I couldn't settle down all day. I was dazed at the garment factory. I couldn't even eat lunch at noon. Those three knocks from the night before kept echoing in my head. I got off work at nine that night. I didn't dare go home alone. I had to wait for the woman from my shift to come with me as far as the foot of the hill. From there, I trembled my way up three flights of stairs.
My door was still locked. Inside was pitch-black. I turned on the light. Everything was exactly as I'd left it—the bed, the wardrobe, the old mirror. But... there were three wet footprints on the floor right in front of the door. Small and faint. They stretched from the door to the place where I kept my sandals.
I crouched down. My heart pounded like a drum. I clearly hadn't gone outside the night before. The door had been locked with both locks. So where had the water come from?
I took out my phone and recorded it. My hand was shaking so badly the image blurred. Midnight. I decided I wasn't going to sleep. I turned on every light and clutched a fruit knife in my hand.
11:50... 11:55... 12:00... Silence. There was only the sound of the wind and crickets.
12:17.
Knock... knock... knock...
Three more knocks. But this time, they weren't coming from the door. They were... coming from inside the bathroom.
My whole body went rigid. The bathroom was right beside the bed, its door half-closed. Slowly... the door pushed itself open a crack. Creak...
Inside was pitch-black. There was no one there. Only the faucet dripping. Drip... drip...
And on the tiled floor, there were three more wet footprints. This time, they led out of the bathroom... and stopped right beside my bed.
My phone rang. An unknown number. I trembled as I answered.
The landlady's voice came from the other end, barely a whisper. "Sweetheart... run." "Run where, ma'am?" "Get out of that room. Right now."
Click...
I threw down the phone and rushed for the door. But the doorknob... was jammed solid. A laugh came from outside. Very soft. A woman's voice.
"Give me back my sandals..."