A terrified voice screamed, “Don’t let them stop the tape! That’s the only thing keeping her inside!”
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 dust…
…and 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. “Apartment 9 has been empty for six years.”
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.
Daniel… 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 wasn’t plugged in. Yet it was playing.
The detective pressed stop.
Silence.
Then Daniel’s phone rang.
Unknown number.