Chapter 1My neighbor's mom keeps banging on my door by mistake every time she comes over.
The old lady's stubborn as hell. Won't admit she's got the wrong apartment until I actually open the door.
If I'm not home, she goes nuts—pounding, ripping out the peephole, trying to break the lock.
Six months of this crap. I've spent thousands just replacing locks.
Every time I complain to my neighbor, he throws the same excuse at me:
"My mom's got dementia. You seriously gonna fight with an old lady?"
I put up with it.
My daughter Brynn's a senior—didn't want this mess screwing up her grades.
Then one night I had to work late.
The old woman showed up again, pounding away.
Brynn was home alone. She opened the door.
That was it. She was gone. The neighbors disappeared too.
I spent the rest of my life looking for her until I died.
Now I'm reborn.
When I hear that woman banging on my door again, I don't go confront her this time.
Instead, I switch our apartment number with the one next door—
Where those brutal debt collector thugs live.
...
10:30 PM. I hear the elevator ding.
I jump up and rush to the door, looking through the peephole.
Someone steps out.
It's Garrett Finch's mom, Maxine.
She looks about seventy but walks just fine.
I watch her get closer and closer, then stop right at my door.
Garrett lives across the hall from me.
Maxine doesn't knock yet. First she looks at her son's door number.
Then she turns and looks at mine.
After checking both, she faces my door and raises her fist.
I yank the door open.
"AHH!"
Maxine screams and stumbles back, almost twisting her ankle.
She goes pale, freezes up. I don't move to help.
I just stand there staring at her.
"Need something?"
"You—you trying to kill me?!"
She's clutching her chest, trying to catch her breath.
"What do you mean 'need something'?! I'm going to my son's place—it's none of your business!"
She's cursing under her breath and trying to look past me into my apartment.
I step forward and block the doorway with my body.
She can't see anything.
"Your son lives across the hall."
I don't care about her attitude. I just point at the door across from us.
"How do I know you're not lying?"
She's not giving up, but I just keep staring her down, not backing off.
Finally she looks away, flustered, and leaves.
On her way out she's muttering:
"Kids these days have no respect. Don't even know how to treat elders."
I don't listen. I close the door and lock it.
The sound makes my daughter look up from her room.
"Mom, who was that?"
Brynn comes out in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes.
Seeing her alive and here—my chest tightens so hard.
Last time, I didn't see her for over ten years after she disappeared.
Tears fill my eyes. I bite down and force them back.
Turn toward the shoe rack, acting like I'm organizing slippers, keeping my voice normal.
"Wrong door. Nobody."
"Brynn, listen. From now on, no matter who knocks, do not open this door. You hear me?"
Brynn looks surprised at how serious I sound. Then she laughs.
"Mom, I'm in high school, not kindergarten. I'm not gonna fall for something like that."
I don't answer.
Last time I thought the same thing.
After months of Maxine "getting the wrong door," even I stopped being careful.
That's how everything went wrong.
This time I won't screw up.
The next morning I call Brynn's teacher and pull her out of school for three days.
I take her straight to my parents' place.
They live way on the south side—two subway rides away.
Figured we'd hide out there.
That night around 8, someone knocks hard on the door.
A voice I know way too well:
"Open up! Honey, I'm back!"
It's Maxine.
SHE FOLLOWED US HERE!
Chapter 2
My brain goes blank.
My body moves before I can think.
I beat my mom to the door and rip it open.
Maxine's got her hand up, ready to pound again.
When she sees it's me, something flashes in her eyes.
But only for a second.
Then her shoulders drop. Her mouth turns down. She starts her act.
"Honey, what took you so long? I've been freezing out here forever."
She hunches over and tries to push past me.
I block her with my arm. Say through my teeth.
"Why are you here?"
Maxine pretends she doesn't get it. She pulls at my arm.
"Who are you?! Why are you blocking my door?! Honey! Someone's trying to keep me out!"
"Drop the act!"
I shake her off.
"I live on the north side. My parents live on the south side."
"You knock on your son's door by mistake, whatever. But now you're at my parents' door?"
"You followed us, huh?!"
She's caught, but she doesn't panic. She starts wailing.
"I live here! This is my place!"
"I have dementia—I forget things! What's wrong with knocking on the wrong door?!"
My face doesn't move.
"Okay. You live here? Then what's your husband's name? What unit? What apartment?"
"Call him out right now. Prove it."
I don't give her any room.
But I'm not ready for what she does next.
She's got an answer for everything—just like last time:
"My husband's sick. You want to drag him out here? You are so heartless!"
"I just made one mistake and now you're trying to ruin me!"
"Please, okay? I'm begging. I won't knock on your door again."
My parents live in an old building.
Lots of units on each floor, doors right next to each other.
No clear numbers like in new buildings. Thin walls.
Her yelling brings the neighbors out.
A few old people crack their doors open, staring and whispering.
"What's going on? Why's she yelling at an old lady?"
"Poor thing's on the floor. That's just mean."
They're all looking at me like I'm the bad guy.
"Young lady, come on. She's sick. Why are you being so hard on her?"
My mom hates scenes. She rushes over and pulls me back.
"Stop it! Enough!"
My dad comes over too, voice low and angry.
"She's confused. Why are you making such a big deal? Get inside. You're embarrassing us."
My heart sinks.
After Brynn disappeared last time, nobody helped.
That same helpless feeling comes flooding back.
I get it now.
Running won't fix this.
Even if I sold everything and moved far away, they wouldn't stop.
Backing down just makes them worse—until they destroy everything.
If I want to make it out, I have to end this.
Chapter 3
Next morning I take Brynn back to our place.
My parents are old. I can't drag them into this.
After I get Brynn settled, I go to the police station.
The cop on duty watches the video of Maxine banging on my door.
I tell him everything.
He sighs and slides my phone back.
"Ma'am, I get it."
"But nothing's actually happened yet. No break-in, no theft."
"She says she's got dementia. Even if we go over there, all we can do is talk to her and give a warning."
My hope dies.
I know he's right.
Without proof, all I'd do is tip them off.
But what am I supposed to do?
I tried everything last time. Nothing worked.
I call my boss and take two weeks off.
He's pissed.
I don't care.
As long as Brynn's safe, the job doesn't matter.
But me backing down over and over just makes Maxine bolder.
Now she's coming during the day.
To catch everything, I put up a video doorbell.
First afternoon after I install it, Maxine shows up.
On the camera I watch her slap a wet newspaper right over the lens.
Screen goes black.
Then I hear it—"BANG BANG BANG"—she's pounding on the door.
I don't open it.
Once it's quiet, I open up, peel off the paper, and take the video to building management.
"Ms. Calloway, that old lady really does have Alzheimer's. Her son showed us the paperwork."
"Our security guy tried talking to her once. She threw herself on the ground and said he hit her."
"We can't do much. You're neighbors. Try to work it out."
Management won't help. So I go knock on Garrett's door.
"Your mom keeps banging on my door. And she covered my camera."
Garrett takes a drag and smirks.
"My mom's sick. She's confused. You're normal—why are you picking a fight with someone who's mentally ill?"
I stare at him.
"Wrong door is one thing. Covering my camera with newspaper? That's not confusion."
"So what?"
He flicks his ash.
"You want to do something about it, call the cops. See if they care."
He slams the door.
Police won't help. Management won't help. Neighbor doesn't care.
Everything's exactly like last time.
I'm a mess. Can't sit still all day.
Then in the afternoon I go out to grab groceries, and it happens again.
My phone buzzes—the doorbell camera's going off.
My stomach drops. I open the app.
Maxine's at my door.
She's jamming a screwdriver into my lock, twisting hard.
When it won't open, she pulls it out and starts scraping it across my door.
She leaves a dozen deep scratches all over it.
I'm shaking I'm so mad. I turn to run back.
Then something happens on the screen.
The door next to mine opens.
Three guys walk out.
All over six feet. Black tank tops. Arms covered in tattoos.
The one in front's got a mean face and a thick gold chain.
He spits on the floor.
"What the hell's all that noise?! It's the middle of the damn day!"
Maxine jumps like she got shocked.
She doesn't even look up. She just hunches over and runs off.
That apartment—I heard about it from the cleaning lady.
Some debt collection company rents it. The guys living there work as enforcers.
Big, scary guys who work nights. Everyone in the building stays away from them.
I watch them get in the elevator, grumbling.
Then I look at my door—all scratched up and ruined.
An idea hits me.
I call a contractor.
"Hey, can you replace just one door?"
"I'll show you which one when you get here."
