The day began uneasily for Veronica Lodge and Reggie Mantle. The strange occurrences from the night before lingered in their minds like a shadow over breakfast. The constant knocking, the feeling of being watched—something wasn't right in their apartment.
As they sat down at the small dining table, their plates filled with scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit, the tension in the air was palpable.
"Last night," Veronica began, pushing her food around on her plate, "was... unsettling."
Reggie nodded, barely touching his food. "The knocking sounds—there's no way that was just the wind or something. I checked, and no one was there."
"I know." Veronica sighed, her dark eyes scanning the room as if expecting something to move or make a sound. "And then that door scratching..."
They ate in silence for a few more moments before Veronica set her fork down with a determined clink. "We need to figure this out. I can't live in a place where I'm constantly feeling like something's watching us."
They both finished their breakfast and immediately contacted their friends back in Riverdale. Jughead answered first, his voice groggy from sleep.
"More weird stuff happening?" Jughead asked, his tone a mixture of concern and skepticism.
"Yeah," Reggie explained. "There's this knocking sound at night, and we're seeing strange things. It feels like someone—or something—is messing with us."
Jughead paused for a moment, as if contemplating. "My advice? Try talking to people who've lived there before you. Neighbors, maybe? Sometimes they know things that don't come up in history books. And whatever you do, don't let your mind start playing tricks on you. It's easy to get paranoid in a place like that."
With Jughead's advice in mind, they decided to reach out to their neighbors in the building. Perhaps someone knew more about the strange happenings in the apartment. They knocked on doors, starting with an Indian couple on the first floor. The couple, while friendly, had no idea about the apartment's history.
"We've been living here for years," the husband explained. "But we don't know anything about the third floor."
Next, they visited an Italian family down the hall. The mother, a middle-aged woman with thick glasses, shook her head when asked about strange occurrences.
"I've never heard of anything odd happening up there," she said. "Maybe it's just the building settling?"
Frustrated but determined, Veronica and Reggie kept going, knocking on door after door. They were met with blank stares, polite refusals, or, in the case of a deeply religious couple who lived a few blocks away, they were turned away entirely.
"I don't want to discuss such things," the woman said firmly, her rosary clutched tightly in her hand. "We don't meddle with spirits here."
Their last stop was to a Guatemalan family who lived nearby. The older woman who answered the door, Mrs. Martinez, listened patiently as Veronica explained their situation. Her face darkened when they mentioned the apartment.
"You're talking about the place where Diana D'Ambrosio lived," Mrs. Martinez said quietly, glancing around as if making sure no one was listening. "She lived there with her son. But... she died. People say it wasn't a normal death."
Veronica felt a chill run down her spine. "What do you mean?"
Mrs. Martinez shook her head. "I don't know all the details. But it's said she wasn't at peace when she died. There were rumors... but I never believed them. Still, the apartment—people say it's not right."
Veronica and Reggie exchanged uneasy glances. They thanked Mrs. Martinez for the information and headed back to their apartment, their minds filled with questions.
Back in the apartment, they decided to reach out to their friends again, filling them in on what they had learned. Jughead and Archie listened intently as they recounted Mrs. Martinez's story.
"Diana D'Ambrosio," Veronica said, her voice low. "She died in the apartment. But no one seems to know how or why."
"That's... unsettling," Archie said on the other end of the line. "You need to dig deeper."
Veronica nodded, already thinking of their next steps. After the call ended, they decided to contact a local historian, hoping to uncover more about Diana and the apartment's past. They eventually found one, and after some back-and-forth, the historian reluctantly shared a few more details.
"Diana D'Ambrosio was a divorced woman," the historian explained over the phone. "She lived there with her son, but her death was... tragic. I can't give you the specifics—those are private matters—but let's just say she didn't go peacefully."
Veronica pressed for more details, but the historian refused to divulge any more information, citing privacy concerns. "If you want to know more, you'll have to contact her family or maybe check the local archives. But tread carefully—this is a sensitive issue."
Frustrated and still lacking concrete answers, Veronica and Reggie reached out to Diana's family. After some digging, they managed to get in touch with Giovanni D'Ambrosio, Diana's elderly grandfather. Giovanni's memory was hazy, and he struggled to remember the details of his granddaughter's death, only offering cryptic comments about how it had been a difficult time for the family.
"If you want more," Giovanni said, his voice strained, "you'll have to talk to her son. He might know more."
Veronica and Reggie ended the call feeling more confused than ever. They cleaned the apartment to distract themselves, but the unease hung in the air. While cleaning, Veronica stumbled upon something that sent a chill through her—a dead mouse behind the couch.
"Reggie," she called, her voice shaky, "there's a dead mouse here. And we didn't set any traps."
Reggie frowned, walking over to inspect it. "That's... weird. I just found one in the kitchen."
They stared at each other in silence. Neither of them had bought mouse traps, and yet two dead mice had appeared out of nowhere.
The apartment felt colder, more oppressive. Veronica grabbed her phone and quickly updated their friends about the discovery of the dead mice.
"What do you think it means?" Jughead asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Veronica wasn't sure, but deep down, she had a sinking feeling that the strange occurrences were only just beginning.