Episode 2: The Voicemail

Got a voicemail at 2:17.

No number. No name.

Just breathing.

Then my own voice said,

“Don’t play this twice.”

... So I played it twice.

First listen, thought somebody was joking,

Second time through, heard a doorway opening.

Then footsteps. Then static.

Then me saying, “Keep quiet.” Problem is—

I don’t remember saying it.

Checked my calls. Nothing.

Checked the locks. Still secure.

Checked the hallway. Empty.

Checked the mirror. Bad idea.

Reflection seemed a second too late,

Probably tired, probably stress,

probably great.

Phone buzzed again. Same voice.

“You haven’t remembered yet.”

Remembered what? Helpful. (hahaha)

Don’t play it back,

but I already did.

Heard my own voice saying things I never said.

Don’t check the hall,

don’t answer the phone.

If nobody called, why am I not alone?

I think I F’n lost it,

but I’m staying calm.

Every new message sounds more like mine.

Wait— that one says tomorrow.

Why?

Third recording starts with laughter.

Mine.

Except I don’t laugh like that.

Then glass breaks. Silence.

“You always skip this part.” Okay.

Delete the file. It comes right back.

Delete again. Back again.

Now I’m arguing with voicemail.

Healthy. Phone hits the couch.

Screen lights up. Caller: ME.

I answer. Nothing. Then through the speaker,

my bedroom door closes.

Slow. Click. My bedroom door is behind me.

No.

Enough.

Lights on.

Kitchen. Hall.

Bathroom.

Bedroom— Why’s that one already on?

Dates start matching, times align,

Every little phrase starts sounding like mine.

Cadence identical, breathing familiar,

Every new message coming in clearer.

One says “kitchen.” One says “stairs.” One says “quit pretending nobody’s there.”

One says “sit.” So I sit.

One says “laugh.”

I don’t. ... Then I do.

(hehehe) Phone buzz. Final message.

No static. No breathing.

Just my voice.

Calm. “When this plays,

you remembered.” ... Remembered what?

Don’t play it back.

Too late now. Every new message was leading me down.

Don’t turn around. I already did.

Why’s that shadow moving when I sit still?

I think I F’n lost it.

Maybe that’s true. Maybe the voice was never someone new.

Phone keeps ringing. I know who it is.

Me.

Again. Again.

Police checked the phone.

No missed calls.

No voicemails.

Just one recording.

Made tonight. By me.

At 2:16.

One minute before

the first message arrived.