CHAPTER 

November 14th,

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I almost left when the real estate agent did. I won’t pretend the flickering lights and endless hallways didn’t bother me, but leaving felt pointless. I’d come this far; I wasn’t going to waste the trip. I told myself I’d finish the tour and track Ms. Pickford down to finalize the sale another day.

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The Pandora Building was worse than I imagined–mold, electrical issues, structural damage–the whole place feels like it’s barely holding together.

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As I walked the halls alone, the list of tasks piled higher; a proverbial mountain of work. It felt impossible, standing at the base of something that massive. But if I don’t make this work, that mountain won’t go anywhere, and I’ll be stuck living in its shadow forever.

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The buzzing never stopped. It wasn’t loud, just… constant. Everywhere I went, it followed.

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I kept thinking about those articles—the stories about faeries and buzzing voices. Superstitious nonsense, of course, but there’s something in that place that’s hard to ignore.

 

Maybe it’s the weight of everything that’s happened there or the hopelessness left behind. Maybe that’s how urban legends start. People love clinging to stories that absolve them of responsibility. In other words, it’s easier to believe in monsters than to confront a problem and actually do something about it. 

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I must’ve gotten distracted because, at some point, I realized I couldn’t remember which way I’d been going.

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I kept walking anyway, expecting to wind my way back to the lobby eventually, but every turn led to another hallway. Then another. The halls stretched on longer than they should have. It didn’t make sense.

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To make matters worse, I started hearing footsteps. Not the quick sharp clicks of Ms. Pickford’s heels—these were deep, echoing thuds—and they were getting closer.

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Every time I turned, the footsteps would stop. No one was there. Probably some idiot teenager sneaking around, but I wasn’t about to find out. I moved faster, putting distance between me and whoever was following me.

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For a while, it seemed like I’d lost them. But the moment I slowed, they started up again—closer this time. Steady. Gaining.

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I decided I’d seen enough. It was time to leave.

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Then, as if on cue, a dim red EXIT sign sputtered to life at the end of the hall.

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I followed it to a stairwell and took the stairs up two at a time.

I heard a door opening on the landing above me. For a split terrifying second, I knew I was trapped—something chasing me, something else ahead, no way out.

 

But then Bethany Pickford stepped out at the top of the stairs, perfectly calm. Like she’d been waiting for me the whole time.

As much as her wide, performative smile had irritated me before, I was surprised at how relieved I was to see it again.

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Wherever she’d gone in the last hour must have settled her nerves because she was perfectly composed when she told me to follow her if I was ready to sign.

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And I was. More than anything, I just wanted it done.

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Ms. Pickford led us upstairs and into an office. The place was a wreck with broken furniture and  filing cabinets overturned, but on the desk sat the navy blue folder Ms. Pickford had been carrying earlier—not a speck of dust on it.

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“Pandora Building – Final Sale”

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Ms. Pickford waited silently by the door.

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The buzzing had faded to a subtle hum in the back of my mind as I looked through the folder. 

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Everything was there, all in order, except for one additional document: a contract detailing a mandatory security agreement with Cerberus Advanced Security Services.

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Ms. Pickford explained it was a non-negotiable clause tied to the property. The city covers the cost as part of a longstanding security provision for the building. Refusing to sign meant forfeiting the entire deal.

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I wasn’t happy about it. Free or not, I don’t like decisions being made for me.

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Ms. Pickford assured me I could bring in supplemental security if Cerberus didn’t meet my needs, but their presence was part of the agreement. Take it or leave it.

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So I signed the purchase agreement and paid the deposit. The closing process is in motion, and once the paperwork is finalized, the title will be officially transferred to my name. 

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Pandora has influenced the course of my life for as long as I can remember. Now, in a few short weeks, it will be mine to do with as I please.

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Anything can be fixed if you’re willing to dig deep enough. I’ll strip the Pandora Building down to the foundation if that’s what it takes to finally claim control over my future.