Mystery of Room Nineteen

The heat haze from the numerous potholes, the faint hint of sulphur clinging to the back of his throat, the sweat stinging his eyes, blinding him temporarily; he did his damnedest to remember this was only temporary. Staying in a hostel meant access to basic amenities. It was cheaper than renting a flat, but still stretched his budget to its limits.

That was eleven months ago. Every day since had been a test of his resolve. He did his best to avoid the other residents, but that's not possible with a single shared kitchen and bathroom for the entire building.

To help maintain his sanity, he wrote about his experiences in the hostel. He kept his entries brief, but there was a lot to go on. With tepid-at-best hot water; bathroom and kitchen tiles stained with something suspiciously brown, and crusted with limescale; plumbing that creaked and groaned under the strain of running water; lights that flickered and buzzed; windows that didn't open; wafer-thin walls that made anything above a whisper easy to hear; and air conditioning that, when it worked, made the air warmer and smelt oddly sweet, like spoiled food.

He'd moved here for work, his position coming with a flat as part of the contract, but he'd discovered after arriving that the building was under construction, expected to be completed in four months. That's why, with an exceptionally tight budget, he'd rented a room at the hostel. Then the construction company went under. More waiting, a new contractor was eventually brought in, and finally after almost a year, the build was almost complete.

Only a few more weeks of living here, and he'd have his own flat with privacy and everything else the hostel lacked. He smiled, picturing his first night; a hot shower, a simple dinner, and sleeping between clean sheets in a bed that didn't screech when he lay down.

"Oh, Mystery, I see you'll be leaving us soon?" The landlady called from behind her office screen. Mr Lee had introduced himself on arrival, and she had his name on file, but like the other residents she'd continued to mock his accent. In the early days, he'd corrected them each time, but gave that up as futile. He was content to remain a mystery, retaining a little distance with this place. Certainly, he'd never be on first-name terms with anyone here.

The lights flickered in the hallway as he made his way to his room, failing altogether as he reached his door. "Electrician will be round on Tuesday," said the landlady. The same assurance she always gave; he had never seen any workmen in the months he'd been here.

The hostel, for all its faults, had its charms. One of few things Mr Lee liked was that there were people here from several countries and all walks of life. If you wanted a room and had the money, no one was turned away. A melting pot of humanity.

Gio, in number three, was a long-term resident of the hostel. As far as Mr Lee could gather from their limited interactions, Gio knew the owner's daughter and had had some trouble with loan sharks and gambling debts. Gio, penniless and homeless, had turned up on the hostel steps and never left.

Summer arrived with full force two days before he was due to move. The useless air conditioners had all given up, so the air inside the hostel was stagnant. The lift, mercifully, was still working, saving him from climbing six flights of stairs. Please, let it still be working tomorrow, he prayed. The thought of dragging his belongings down all those stairs, and climbing back up again, made him regret—yet again—having a room on the top floor.

The morning of the move arrived and Mr Lee felt a lightness in his chest. He smiled, realising it was hope, and that in a few hours' time that hope would become reality. He washed and dressed for the last time, packed the last of his belongings, and made the first trip down to his colleague Marco's van.

On the way back up, as he passed between floors three and four, the lift juddered and stopped, the light fizzling out and leaving him trapped in the blackness. When this first happened, he'd panicked. Now, with several such power cuts behind him, he knew he only had a short wait. True to form, less than ten minutes had passed when the lift resumed its ascent.

The second and third trips passed without incident, although he caught several of the residents openly staring at him. He'd smiled, as always, but they didn't smile back. Never mind, he thought, I won't be here much longer.

With the final box of books in arm, his laden rucksack on his back, Mr Lee almost floated down the corridor. He stepped into the lift, pressed the button for the ground floor, and said a silent goodbye to his temporary home as the doors slid shut.

The lift juddered at the fifth floor, and Mr Lee knew what was coming next. As expected, the lift jerked to a halt, the blackness in the lift absolute. He put down the box and slipped off his rucksack; there was no sense in standing holding them until the power came back on.

"Checking out?" Mr Lee jumped. He hasn't noticed anyone else in the lift, but then again he'd been thinking of all the wonderful things waiting for him in his new flat.

"Yes. My new flat is ready, I move in today." 

There was a shuffle of footsteps from behind him and a sigh. On that exhale, Mr Lee could smell cloves and alcohol. That could only be Erik, one of the more reserved residents. They'd only spoken briefly a handful of times, but Erik left Mr Lee feeling uneasy. He couldn't quite say why, but it had felt like Erik was always watching him.

"Why don't you stay?" Erik whispered, leaning closer, his beard rubbing Mr Lee's neck.

"No, it's time for me to go."

"If you insist." Mr Lee heard a whisper of what sounded like a prayer. He heart pounded. He could smell something—blood, maybe—that wasn't there before. He thought how odd that was, to not notice such a strong odour, a moment before the lights came back on. He glanced down and saw the cause.

It was blood. He was standing in a pool of it. The worst part, though, was the inch or so of knife tip protruding from his chest.

"Goodbye, Mystery of room nineteen."