Corners and In-Betweens (Pt. 2 of 3)

This is Pt. 2. To read Pt. 1, click here.

"So… The building is pretty new, right?"
"Yes." Said Gulsim, gulping some tea.
"Only a couple of years old." Finished Kamila, assorting the biscuits.
"Well, I'd like to ask, why does it look so old?"
The old women looked at each other. Something seemed to crawl in the borders of Hul's sight.
Gulsim put her tea down and started:
"People like to say the place is haunted…"
Kamila went on:
"That a Persian emperor was buried in this site and that the company that built the building paid extra to do so."
"It would make the place cheaper. They'd profit on that."
Something crawled around them, dancing perfectly in the corners of what Hul could see.
"Other people say it's us."
"I know, Gulsim, but people talk. It's better the girl gets to know it from us rather  than from Alborz." Kamila took a deep breath, "Some people say we're witches, and that the place falling is God's will against our faith."
"Bullshit, we believe in God as much as anyone else."
"Not like them."
"And? Who even cares by this point, we're just old, they're just pricks."
"Yes. Anyway, none of that matters. There's something wicked here, the crackles and the furniture are just a result of  some corporate crook's embezzling. The real bad thing that makes this place is the fact that some residents just…"
"Just?" Said Hul, holding her teacup in full anxiety.
"Disappear." Completed Gulsim. "Residents turn into dust, vanish."
"There's been 5 cases in these two years, and people say construction workers disappeared too. Sometimes people come to visit and never show up. Police finds nothing, and then say there's more important things to do."
"Useless bastards."
"I don't blame them, we both know what's doing that. But no one would believe us."
"I'm not crazy!"
"We aren't, but frankly what difference does it make? We're too old to do anything about it."
Something that sounded just like laughter echoed in the back of Hul's head, cackling in an inhumane manner.  
Hul was shaking now, she just wanted to get up and leave. But where to? She couldn't get back home, and her new place was… haunted?
"Look, girl, just… Don't look directly into it. Please. You might think we're crazy, you may never visit us again, but please, whatever you do, don't lay your eyes on it. We're lucky, we can't see it properly, but everyone else that did…"
"They've either got lost, or ended up in the bin." Replied Gulsim.
Hul got up, unwell. Her vision seemed to be getting blurry.
"I'm, I'm sorry. My friend must've finished carrying my things already, I should take a look to see how he's doing." She said, trying to get a grasp at herself.
"Surely, take care, Hul."
"Yes, take care. Please remember to close the door."
She left, and when she turned back to close the door, she could see them staring at her at the living room mirror. Two old women sitting in the dark, one lonely eye piercing through her. In the last millisecond, something above them, something huge.
The clank of the door solidified its image in Hul's head. It was nothing, just a blur. She made her way to the other side of the hall.
Her door was open, and all boxes inside. A note stood on the top of one of the boxes:
"Sorry gal, but I had to go. It was getting late and It seemed I couldn't get to contact you, so after a while I decided to head back home. If you need anything, give me a call. Also, I recommend calling the pest control, there's something I couldn't quite get the grasp of scurrying around. Probably a cat or some kind of big rat. Hugs, Babak."
The cackling… It was getting louder. She had to rest and look at things from the bright side: The move in was a success! She met her neighbors, her things were in her place, and she'd later make Babak's poem so they could see each other again. At a park or something like that.  
It would be better to rest, it was a long, even if leisure, day. Sleeping would help. Well, as long as the bad stuff didn't sink too much in with her, it would be a night of sound sleeping. She went in, took a long bath and got delivery for a burger. She laid on the sofa, staring at the ceiling as she waited for her food. She'd get her things together, she'd get that book together, she'd make something nice for Babak and take something good for the nice old ladies next door. It was fine, it was going to be great.
All the while the cackling surrounded her. It dancing around what Hul could see, making the space between them scarcer.
The doorbell rang. Hul got up. She dressed herself and took the money, she was starving. She opened the door ready to hand in the money.
A man with round sunglasses wearing a white suit stood outside, he ate her fries while holding the delivery bag.
"Excuse me?"
"Hey there. You the new girl, right? I'm Alborz."
He extended his hand, greasy with her food. She left it hanging. He put it back down.
"Eh. Anyway, this is your food. I paid it for ya, thought of taking a piece. Hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." She said, smiling. 'Prick.'
She picked her bag and proceeded to close the door, he put his foot on its way.
"Hey, I'm not finished. Trash is taken everyday at 20. Jus' leave it by your entrance. And don't talk to the ladies next door."
Hul stared at him, she was about to lose her temper.
Alborz lowered his sunglasses, revealing a glass eye.
"They're, y'know, witches."
Hul was almost at boiling point, she kicked the man's foot out of the way and slammed the door.
As she went back to the kitchen, he exclaimed outside:
"You women are all the same. Dumb and sour."
Gulsim replied from hers and Kamila's apartment, sardonically:
"We're sour cus' we have to deal with y'all, we're dumb cus' some of us chose to love y'all."
The manager made himself silent, while Hul could imagine the two old gals laughing themselves out. She laughed too.
She went back in and put the food on the counter.
She stared at the fries, 'Ruined.', she threw them in the trash.
She picked her burger and sat on the chair she had brought from home. It was the lucky chair, she wrote her best stuff in it. It also happened to be her mother's old office chair, where Hul would spend time thinking about rhymes while her mother worked. She was fond of the way the chair rotated, so she did it as she ate. Nobody to complain about she getting sick. The whole room was like a blur as everything spinned around.
The fridge, then the door, her room, the couch, the TV.
How was she going to make that poem?
The fridge, then the door, her room, the couch, the TV.
Just a couple of simple rhymes, and…
The fridge, then the door, her room, the couch, the TV.
Then she'd kiss him when nobody was looking.
The fridge, then the door, her room, the… 'Huh?'


"Curses! Slow pace and growing tension!"
- You

What were the old ladies talking about?
Could it all be just paranoia and senility?
It doesn't seem so...
Do your best to not see what's coming right here!