You Want My House? Over My Dead Body

Just as I was getting off work, a text popped up on my phone about overdue water and electricity bills.

I stared at the unfamiliar address for a long time before it finally hit me. It seemed I did own a place like that.

Back in college, my mother had worried I couldn't adjust to dorm life, so she bought this place near campus for me.

Later, I suddenly decided to go abroad to further my studies, so the place sat empty right after the renovations were finished.

That thought brought a flicker of confusion. As far as I knew, no one was living in that apartment, so where did the water and electricity bills come from?

Full of questions, I followed the route I remembered and headed to the residential complex.

…

Standing in front of the unit, I hesitated. The brand-new black security door looked nothing like the dull maroon one the developer had installed back then, so I glanced up again at the door number, unsure if I had the right place.

"808. I'm at the right place."

I stared at the black door that looked nothing like what I remembered, as a foul stench wafted from the door crack. A sense of dread washed over me as I quickly called the locksmith.

The locksmith arrived soon and gave me a quick once-over.

"Is this your apartment?"

I quickly pulled out my title deed and ID from my bag and handed them over.

"Of course. Here are the documents. My name is Kiera Cowell."

The locksmith took the documents but studied me carefully. He still seemed a little hesitant.

Eager to get inside, I hurriedly offered, "I'm in a rush. How does an extra 100 dollars sound?"

Only then did he hand the documents back and crouch down to open his toolbox. I heard him mutter, "Hmm, didn't an old lady live here?"

"What was that?"

I didn't hear what he said and was about to question him when a shrill voice sounded behind us. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

A sharp jolt hit my shoulder as a gray-haired old woman ran to the locksmith and pointed at him, shouting furiously, "You thief! How dare you break into my apartmetn in broad daylight?"

As she spoke, she lunged at the locksmith and clawed at his face.

In the blink of an eye, a streak of blood appeared across his cheek.

The locksmith yelped as he stepped back, holding his bleeding nose and pointing at me. "I'm not a thief! She's the one who asked me to open the door!"

The old lady spun around and scanned me head to toe. Her gaze locked onto my gold necklace as a sharp glint appeared in her eyes.

She then muttered curses as she stormed toward me. "Young lady, how dare you steal at such a young age? Just wait. I'll teach you a lesson today!"

She lunged straight at me, hand outstretched.

I frowned and stepped back cautiously. When she missed, the old lady quickly changed her mind and lay down on the ground.

"Oh, someone help me! This young lady tried to break into my apartment and is now bullying me…"

Her voice was so loud that soon all the neighbors had opened their doors and were peeking out to see what was happening

I'd never seen anyone so shameless in my life, and I instinctively took a step back.

When she saw people gathering around, the old lady howled even louder and grabbed onto my pant leg.