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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Negative-Sea0x on 2024-09-07 05:32:58+00:00.
The pipes hadn’t stopped dripping for months.
It was the middle of February when I heard it first. A slight pattering and tapping amongst almost inaudible drips by the kitchen sink in my apartment. I hadn’t thought much of it then, as it was the middle of the night and I had only popped in to grab a drink and head back to bed - only taking a brief mental note to mention it to the landlord in the morning.
The back and forth between the landlord continued for about a week, before they begrudgingly gave way and got a contractor to look at the pipes in the kitchen. All was fine, they said. No leaks, sounds, or anything to suggest any fault with our system. I didn’t give it much thought after that, since I hated being a bother even though the issue persisted.
The slight drips and patters became a full cascade of water parading and dancing inside the pipes over the coming weeks - but the strangest thing of all, was this sound was inaudible in the day. It would only occur between 1 and 5 in the morning, then it would fizzle out, as if not to disturb the neighbours. The sounds would continue even if I turned the water off, even though I could feel it vibrating through my pipes under the sink. It was like everyone was running water between this time, the pipes whirring under continuous strain.
Then one night, quite recently, I fell asleep on my sofa watching some mind numbing video on the TV. Even though this sofa was from the landlord, and probably older than I am - it feels all too comfy after a long day, just ready to relax and drift away. My blissful, yet unfulfilling nap had abruptly ended - with a jet like hiss coming from the kitchen.
Through unadjusted eyes I lifted my head and peered into the kitchen - the illumination of the TV only just highlighting the glint of water pooling over the hardwood floors. I peeked over at my phone, 3:41am.
“Fuck”, I muttered to the teleshopping ad on the screen, reeling in my annoyance that I couldn’t contact anyone to stop this leak for the next few hours. Sitting myself up from the couch and composing myself, I stumbled over to the light switch to assess the damage just before I ran to get a towel.
Moving my eyes onto the floor, still adjusting, the water appeared the slightest red - just a hint, maybe it was just my eyes. Maybe.
After grabbing all the towels I could muster, forming a perimeter around the strange water so it couldn’t go further, I ventured towards the kitchen sink.
Getting closer, the noises it was emitting had a slightly different tune. Rather than gushing, it was gurgling. I pinned that down to the leak, and swung open the under sink cabinet with confidence.
A deep red encased the burst pipe, my eyes already undoing and redoing swift sweeps of the cabinet - the interior identical to a neatly wrapped crime scene. A quick swipe over the redness with my finger and a smell confirmed what I had already subconsciously known.
Blood.
I didn’t know what to do, I instinctively took a step back. Scrambling over to my phone, I rang the only number alive at this time - the emergency line.
“Hello? Police please”. I didn’t think to give them any time to ask which service I needed, any manners previously learnt disappeared into the folds of panic looming over me.
“Hello, what is your address?”,
Stuttering, I complied with the question to get someone sent out immediately.
“And what is the reason for your call?”,
“There’s blood all over my floor”,
“Whose? Should we call an ambulance to your adress also?”,
“I don’t know whose, or where it came from. Please just come quickly”,
“A car has already been deployed, it’s estimated arrival is 4 minutes. Please stay on the line to ensure your safety”.
I left the phone on speaker so I could bundle my now stained hands around my face, the gurgling of the pipes plaguing my ears.
Two police officers arrive not too long after, a male and a female. After jittering the locks for what seemed like minutes, they come through with unsure authority - not yet knowing if I’m the threat or victim of this call.
“It’s in the kitchen”, I say through the lump in my throat, thickening with dread.
Their brazen faces turn sour as they open the door into the kitchen. A shimmer of relief, with accompanying annoyance appears on their faces.
“Ma’am, plumbing isn’t a police matter”, muttered the male officer, combing a hand over his stubbled face. His pointed nose overshadowing his police cap, hiding his tired yet sneering eyes.
“You need to look in the cabinet under the sink”. Wincing from his grumbling, I look away as he advances towards the cabinet. He grips the handle and shines his flashlight tentatively inside, and a small gasp escapes his now puzzled face.
“Come and look at this, will you?” He commands the other officer, closer to me than she is him. I can tell that she’s more understanding of my call, with her mouth twisted into a slight frown when being called forward.
She slinks over, takes a peak and turns away - muttering over the radio. While the words were indistinguishable, a wash of heaviness passed over me, just knowing that they weren’t able to help.
They closed the cabinet and stood up, explaining to me that they weren’t equipped with the knowledge or equipment to fix a leak. They made a couple suggestions to the red colouring though, such as a filtering issue or someone washing animal blood down the sink. After all, all the pipes in the apartment are interconnected. I could tell they were just as tired as I was, aching to get off of their shift - though, they were softer with their words after discovering what was under the sink. And they were right, they couldn’t help me then.
After they left, I couldn’t help but fall down against the front door, crying into my hands. It was only 4:12am, they’d only been gone 3 minutes, and my only options were to wait - alone. The leak had been mostly dried up with the towels now, but that dreadful gurgle was audible all throughout the apartment. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until it could be fixed-
A sharp, yet soft pattern of raps echo across the door.
I shoot up, and use my door viewer to see who on earth was there.
It was a slightly stodgy and older man, large nose amongst thin lips curved up into a weak smile accompanying his wrinkled dark brown eyes. It was like he knew I’d be looking through my viewer, as his eyes were intently fixed upon it - staring straight into mine.
With the chain lock still on the door, I gently tilted the door open, and was met with a brief greeting and kind face.
After a weak and inquisitive hello, I asked him who he was and why he was at my door - once again, my manners hadn’t returned since I was in panic mode.
He gave a quick introduction;
“Sorry to bother you, the name’s Andrew. I live in apartment 132, just above yours. I couldn’t help but notice a lot of commotion goin’ on and then the bright blue lights not too long ago. Are you okay? Looks like you’ve been crying”.
A sudden rush of emotion swept over me, it was like he knew I was panicked and just needed someone to ask me something - anything. I started to sniffle and he rustled up a packet of tissues and offered me one. I plucked one out and emitted a loud and disgusting blow of my nose.
“Sorry… Thank you”, a small laugh escaped me then, a small wave of comfort amongst the crashing heaviness and discomfort of still being in this damn apartment.
“I’m not sure if this is weird, but looks like you need somethin’ to drink. Would you like to pop upstairs and I’ll make you a cuppa? Only a quick one”, that same kindness emitting from his face.
I let out a small okay, grabbed my keys and stepped out of the apartment. Andrew took a step back whilst I was locking my door, but even then I felt his eyes burning into me, watching every muscle twitch.
We walk up the fire exit stairs, as they’re incredibly close to my apartment and his. With uncanny precision he unlocks his door, and gestures me inside.
My first thought is that it’s neat. Very neat. Minimalist, even - the hallway adorned with one pair of slippers, one pair of hiking boots, and one spot missing for the running shoes he had hastily put on. A slim dresser opposite the shoes, with a basic lamp dimly lighting the hallway.
The layout was exactly like my apartment, so it was easy to navigate around his place.
His living room just as bare as the hall, a two seater couch with a coffee table - a small TV sitting on a plain stand, and a deep green trunk decorated with paisley gold pattern nestled in the far right corner.
The deep green trunk was the most colourful thing in his beige and monotone palette, almost sitting out of place. It was quite large, too - easily 6 feet by 4 feet, maybe 3 feet deep. You could tell it had been opened and closed, locked and unlocked frequently with it’s dinged up lock protruding from the long side.
“Make yourself at home”.
I jumped - I was too busy scanning the room to notice Andrew had already moved into the kitchen, next to the sink, kettle in hand.
I went towards the green trunk, naturally, curiosity peaking. Andrew faultered, then. His smile tightening up, his thin lips conveying annoyance - then, back to normal.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll sit there. You see, it’s the spot I’ve sat in for 7 years, and I’ve made quite a comfortable dent in it”, returning to his kind voice.
I obliged, and sat in the seat further away from the illustrious green trunk.
Andrew brought the te…
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