Yandere Stream

The apple rolled to Kai’s feet.

It bumped gently against the toe of his shoe before coming to a stop.

No one bent to pick it up.

Kai’s attention remained fixed on the elderly woman standing in the elevator doorway.

She couldn’t have been much taller than five feet.

Her silver hair was tied into a neat bun, and despite the impossible circumstances, she looked remarkably ordinary.

Not mysterious.

Not frightening.

Just...

Like someone’s grandmother.

Yet the moment she’d mentioned his brother...

The air inside the elevator had changed.

Kai slowly found his voice.

”...My brother?”

The woman’s gentle smile faltered.

”Oh.”

She studied his expression carefully.

”You truly don’t remember him.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was grief.

She bent with surprising ease, picked up the fallen apple, and placed it back inside the torn grocery bag. The photographs shifted as she lifted the bag, revealing dozens more hidden beneath the first layer.

Years’ worth.

Birthdays.

Picnics.

Graduations.

Ordinary days that somehow felt more precious than any miracle.

She looked back at Kai.

”My name is Eleanor Ashcroft.”

She extended a wrinkled hand.

”I’m afraid we’ve already met.”

Kai accepted it automatically.

Her grip was warm.

Steady.

Real.

Nothing happened.

The apartment didn’t distort.

The lights didn’t flicker.

The elevator didn’t groan.

For the first time since this nightmare began, Kai shook someone’s hand without wondering if they were real.

Daniel frowned.

”I’ve never seen you before.”

Mrs. Ashcroft chuckled softly.

”Of course not.”

”I live upstairs.”

Daniel blinked.

”There isn’t an upstairs.”

”There is now.”

She answered so naturally that no one challenged her.

Kai’s eyes narrowed.

”You said...”

He hesitated.

”...my brother.”

Mrs. Ashcroft nodded.

”Elias Mercer.”

The name struck him like a physical blow.

Mercer.

His last name.

His pulse thundered in his ears.

”...No.”

He whispered it.

”I don’t have a brother.”

Mrs. Ashcroft’s expression became unbearably kind.

”You used to.”

Silence.

Kai felt the floor tilt beneath him.

”I...”

A hollow laugh escaped him.

”No.”

”My parents...”

His voice faded.

He couldn’t remember.

He tried.

His childhood home.

Christmas mornings.

School.

Birthdays.

Every memory before adulthood had become strangely blurred.

Like someone had dragged a wet brush across a finished painting.

The colors were still there.

The details were gone.

Mrs. Ashcroft watched him carefully.

”Don’t force it.”

”It only hurts.”

Kai looked up sharply.

”You knew him?”

She smiled.

”I watched him grow up.”

”I taught him how to play chess.”

”He used to shovel my driveway every winter, even after I told him not to.”

A fond laugh escaped her.

”He always claimed the snow looked lonely.”

Kai closed his eyes.

Something stirred.

A little boy.

Maybe eight years old.

Dragging a shovel twice his size through knee-deep snow.

Laughing every time he fell into a drift.

Another boy—

Older.

Patiently helping him back to his feet.

Brushing snow off his jacket.

Smiling.

The memory shattered before Kai could reach it.

He staggered.

A hand caught his shoulder.

Daniel.

”You okay?”

”...No.”

Kai answered honestly.

Mrs. Ashcroft quietly stepped fully into the elevator.

The doors remained open.

As though they had been waiting for her all along.

She carefully removed one of the Polaroids from her grocery bag.

”Here.”

Kai accepted it.

The photograph showed two boys standing beside a crooked snowman.

One was unmistakably Kai.

He couldn’t have been older than six.

Standing beside him...

Elias.

A teenager.

Tall.

Dark-haired.

Smiling with the easy confidence of someone who believed everything would be alright as long as he was there.

One arm rested protectively across Kai’s shoulders.

His other hand held a carrot.

Apparently the snowman had lost its nose.

Kai stared at the picture.

It didn’t feel unfamiliar.

It felt...

Borrowed.

Like looking at a memory that belonged to someone else.

On the back of the photograph, written in blue ink, were five simple words.

Don’t lose him this time.

Kai frowned.

”...That’s not Elias’s handwriting.”

Mrs. Ashcroft nodded.

”No.”

”It isn’t.”

”Whose is it?”

She looked directly into his eyes.

”Yours.”

His breath caught.

”I wrote this?”

”You did.”

”But...”

She sighed softly.

”...you wrote it yesterday.”

Nobody spoke.

Daniel frowned.

”Yesterday?”

Mrs. Ashcroft nodded.

”Yesterday.”

Kai slowly looked around the elevator.

”What day is it?”

”Sunday.”

He frowned.

”No.”

”I mean...”

He pulled out his phone.

The screen displayed exactly what he expected.

Sunday.

July nineteenth.

Nothing unusual.

Mrs. Ashcroft watched him quietly.

”To you...”

She spoke gently.

”...it’s been two days.”

She looked toward Apartment 7C.

”To Elias...”

Her voice grew heavy.

”...it’s been nine hundred and forty-three.”

The number struck the room like a gunshot.

Kai’s mouth slowly opened.

”...What?”

Mrs. Ashcroft looked down at the photographs.

”He counted every morning.”

”He stopped after nine hundred and forty-three.”

Daniel whispered,

”...Nine hundred and forty-three days?”

She slowly shook her head.

”No.”

Her eyes met Kai’s.

”...Loops.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Kai felt cold all over.

The older Kai...

Elias...

The hidden apartment...

The impossible hallway...

Everything rearranged itself inside his mind.

”You mean...”

His voice barely worked.

”...we’ve done this before.”

Mrs. Ashcroft nodded.

”So many times...”

She looked at the ring on Kai’s finger.

”...that your brother forgot how many birthdays he’d missed.”

Kai stared at her.

”Elias wasn’t trying to save himself.”

”No.”

”He was trying...”

Mrs. Ashcroft smiled sadly.

”...to save you from remembering how many times you failed.”

Kai looked down at the ring.

Until you remember me again.

The words suddenly felt heavier.

Not a promise.

A plea.

Every loop...

Every forgotten morning...

Every erased memory...

Elias had carried them alone.

Not because he wanted to.

Because someone had to.

Kai swallowed hard.

”What happened to him?”

Mrs. Ashcroft didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she looked at the brass elevator doors.

Her reflection stared back at her.

Older.

Wearier.

”When a person remembers too much...”

She spoke so softly that Kai almost missed it.

”...the building gives them a job.”

Daniel frowned.

”What kind of job?”

”The kind no one survives forever.”

She finally looked back at Kai.

”Elias became the one who stood between you...”

Her gaze drifted toward Apartment 7C.

”...and the door.”

Kai’s chest tightened.

”So every time I forgot...”

”He remembered.”

”Every time you gave up...”

”He started over.”

”Every time you died...”

A long silence followed.

Mrs. Ashcroft closed her eyes.

”...he looked for another way.”

The elevator doors finally began to close.

No one touched a button.

No one spoke.

As the gap narrowed...

Mrs. Ashcroft quietly whispered something only Kai could hear.

”You’ve never reached the eighth floor before.”

The doors sealed shut.

The elevator shuddered.

Instead of moving upward...

It began descending.

The floor indicator glowed.

8.

A soft mechanical hum echoed through the cabin.

Then the number changed.

9.

Daniel frowned.

”We’re going the wrong way.”

Another vibration.

10.

The elevator continued descending.

There was no sensation of falling.

No movement at all.

Only the numbers changing one after another.

11. 12.

Kai looked at Mrs. Ashcroft.

”There aren’t twelve floors.”

”There aren’t.”

”So where are we going?”

She met his eyes.

A tired sadness settled across her face.

”We’re leaving the building now.”

Kai’s stomach tightened.

”What?”

”The seventh floor was never the highest point.”

She glanced at the glowing numbers.

”It was simply the last place reality still made sense.”

The indicator changed again.

13.

Then...

Instead of another number...

A single word appeared.

BELOW.

The lights dimmed.

The elevator fell silent.

Mrs. Ashcroft folded her hands over the grocery bag.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

”We’re going where the building hides the truth.”