Tap-Tap-Tap

The clock read 12:43 AM. I lay stiff in bed, eyes wide open, ears straining. The noise had come again—a faint tap… tap… tap, like fingers drumming on a wooden surface.

Tick tick tick tick… tick… tick-tock-tick… tick-tock-tick.

It had started on my very first night in this apartment. I was living alone for the first time —no parents down the hall, no comforting presence of a sibling, just me and the empty walls.

Then I heard it. A muted sound—tap, tap, tap.

It wasn’t the usual creaks of an old apartment settling. It was deliberate, almost rhythmic.

At first, I brushed it off as my imagination. But then—there it was again.

Searching for the source, I realized it was coming from the floor above. But there shouldn’t be anyone in that apartment now. The resident was a petite guy named Joe, who worked the night shift. He had welcomed me in the afternoon with a piece of cake. His wide eyes darted nervously as he spoke, shoulders hunched like he was expecting the world to call him out at any moment. But I liked him—my first acquaintance in the city.

The tapping sound continued for several hours, intermittently, until morning light crept through the thin curtains.

It had been ten days. Every night, it was the same story.

Tomorrow, I shall confront Joe, I decided, forcing myself to sleep.

***

The next day, I explained the situation to Joe. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of restrained fury on his lips. I had half-expected him to brush it off, but he agreed immediately.

“Those filthy rats. Whenever I leave, they start dancing around. I’ll take care of it immediately. Don’t worry.”

Surprisingly, the sound stopped that night.

I stayed in that apartment for another five months until my project ended. The noise never bothered me again.

***

Five years later

“What is this place, Ayan?”

“Richa, this is where I used to live when I first came to the city five years ago. A guy named Joe lived upstairs.”

It felt great to be back in a familiar spot. But the house seemed abandoned now. A fruit vendor had parked his cart along the boundary, blocking the entrance.

“You lived with Joe?” I hadn’t realized the vendor was in earshot.

“Yes, why?”

“Joe was a menace. He kidnapped a girl and locked her up in the attic for years. Even after she died, he kept living with her corpse. When the stench became unbearable, someone alerted the authorities—and the skeleton came out of the closet. The girl had been tortured so much. Later, it was revealed that he had cut out her tongue and broken all the bones in her fingers.”

I felt sick.

“He said she had tried to seek help with those fingers,” the vendor continued.

A chill ran down my spine. Joe did all that?

And then the realization struck.

Tick tick tick tick… tick…tick-tock-tick… tick-tock-tick.

Morse code for help.