A terrified voice screamed, โDonโt let them stop the tape! Thatโs the only thing keeping her inside!โ
The detective frowned. What tape?
Daniel looked back.
The cassette recorder was gone.
So was the detective.
The apartment was empty again.
Except for a fresh layer of dustโฆ
โฆand one set of footprints leading to the wall.
His footprints.
From the other side.
The Voice in Apartment 9
Every night at exactly 2:17 a.m., Daniel heard a woman crying through the wall. His landlord laughed it off. โApartment 9 has been empty for six years.โ
Daniel checked anyway. The door was chained shut, covered in dust. No footprints. No sign anyone had entered.
The crying returned the next night. This time, it whispered his name.
Danielโฆ please.
He called the police. They forced the door open.
The apartment was spotless. No furniture. No people. Just an old cassette recorder in the middle of the floor.
It wasnโt plugged in. Yet it was playing.
The detective pressed stop.
Silence.
Then Danielโs phone rang.
Unknown number.