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666.

My name is Roy, I just graduated from college and got a job at a company. I just stepped on the 25th of last month, it was enough for me to live alone. Not that I never lived alone, but my mother still often back and forth my boarding room first. And for now, I really want to be independent. For that I tried to install a simple apartment around the office of my workplace.

Thank God again, I got a cheap place on the 6th floor. My room number is 666, so I checked that nothing was wrong. All okay and finally I signed everything that needs my signature. When else can a fairly spacious apartment with a very-very affordable price, although I still nyicil count.

A month passed, I began to feel that there was something strange about the place I live in today. Sometimes the lights blink themselves, sometimes the TV broadcast changes itself, even sometimes the display radio that does exist before I move turns on by itself. Okay, I'm starting to fret. Instead of being afraid, I don't like it if there are strange things that bother me like this. Just a shadow, just like a good sleep, suddenly the sound of a broken radio lit up with the loudest volume. Overall, for sure and that's how I felt a couple of nights.

The more you get here, the more disruption there is. The water suddenly flowed by itself from its tap. Of course I complained to the previous owner, but all I got was a rebuttal if it was ordinary. There may be a leaky pipe for faucet problems, or it may be a cable of the rocking light so the light often flickers on its own.

One day, while cleaning in the area where I live. Many people stare at me while whispering. Okay, I don't get dizzy. I assume they just want to know about me, their new neighbor. Then, a middle-aged man approached me. He sat next to me while I was resting for a while, sitting down.

"May you sit here, son?" ask him pleasantries. I nodded in agreement, This man does not have me, I forbid it.

"If you're not mistaken, you live in apartment number 666, right?" asking again is like starting to extract information from me.

I nodded again. "Yes, sir," I replied politely. However my interlocutor is older than me and I understand manners and manners. It is not polite to name if you just nod without answering continuously.

"If you may know, why the man who was before I moved, yes sir?" ask me I want to know.

"Well, did you do nothing while you were there?" the father asked back, his face a little surprised to look at me.

I am confused to answer honestly or cover everything up. I finally answered what it was. "Many, strange occurrences, sir. But the owner said it was because the building was old."

"Huh, you little nippy-boy's bangkotan. Pinter is so good!" decih the father was upset.

"Room 666 is a curse room! Everyone was always being bullied by the occupants of that room. The lucky ones chose to move, the foolish ones ended up wretched. Once anyone lived there and immediately went into a coma without any cause. I don't know how he is now, I've forgotten his name too." Okay, I'm starting to panic. If what you say is true, it means that my current residence is very, very problematic.

"If you'll excuse me, sir." I immediately unplug and return to the room. I packed the things I needed the most. Caring for the devil is like money, it can be sought. I have to live first and think about the future. Mending back to the place ortu or staying in the company dormitory rather than living here and end up gambling with my life. My life is only one and there is no backup, there is also no selling retail to replace it if my life is lost.

Whatever money I can get back, I don't care anymore. What matters is that I survived the point. Back problems to be taken care of later, the rest of the goods I can also take using the transfer service. I don't want to set foot in room 666 anymore. I'm scared, angry, and don't want to be disturbed again.