Horror Short Story | The Stairwell

The old apartment building where Shen Li lived had no elevator, forcing her to climb five flights of stairs every day. She had a habit of counting the steps as she climbed. Sixteen steps per floor, eighty steps for five floors. She had counted for three years without a single mistake. One night, returning home, she counted to eighty and looked up, only to find herself on the third floor. Thinking she had miscounted, she climbed again. This time, she counted slowly, step by step. Sixteen: first floor. Thirty-two: second floor. Forty-eight: third floor. Sixty-four: fourth floor. Eighty: fifth floor. She had arrived. She took out her keys and opened her door. The next day, the same thing happened again. She counted to eighty and stopped on the fourth floor. She started to feel that something was wrong. She searched online for information about the building and discovered something strange: the building's original permit was for a six-story structure. But only five floors had actually been built. She asked the landlord, who said the developer had cut corners back then and never built the sixth floor, and the permit was never updated. "What about the stairs to the sixth floor?" The landlord paused for a moment. "You'll know when you go to the rooftop." Shen Li climbed to the fifth floor and pushed open the metal door to the rooftop. The rooftop was empty, with only a water tank and clotheslines. She walked to a corner and found a concrete staircase on the ground, extending downwards to a floor that shouldn't exist. She descended a few steps. The stairwell was dark, and the walls were covered in scratch marks, as if made by fingernails. At the end, there was a door. A piece of paper was taped to it, with messy handwriting: "Stop coming up here. We're living just fine." Shen Li froze. Just as she was about to turn away, a piece of paper slid out from under the door. It was new, with neat handwriting: "You count