I ignored my brother’s call for 3 days.
I thought he was drunk again.
Then my mom called me crying.
“Please… just listen to the voicemail.”
So I did.
At first, it sounded normal.
Static.
Heavy breathing.
His voice shaking.
But then he whispered something that made my blood freeze:
“Don’t let them find the red box.”
I replayed it at least 20 times.
Red box?
What was he talking about?
That same night, I drove to his apartment.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside… everything was gone.
Furniture.
Photos.
Even the carpet.
Like nobody had ever lived there.
Except for one thing.
A small red box under the kitchen sink.
And when I opened it…
I understood why someone wanted him dead.
(Part 2 in the comments.)
Inside the box was an old cassette tape, a passport that didn’t belong to my brother, and a stack of photographs.
Every photo showed the same thing:
a black van parked outside different houses.
On the back of each photo were dates.
Future dates.
The last picture made my stomach turn.
It was my house.
Tomorrow’s date.
I immediately called the police, but they thought I was paranoid.
So I stayed awake all night with a baseball bat beside me.
At 3:17 AM, headlights appeared outside.
A black van.
Exactly like in the photographs.
Two men stepped out slowly.
One of them looked directly at my bedroom window.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A voice whispered:
“You opened the box.”
My entire body froze.
“How do you know where I am?”
The man outside smiled.
Then the voice said something I will never forget:
“Because your brother told us where to find you before he died.”
The line disconnected.
Seconds later, somebody started knocking on my front door.
Slowly.
Three knocks.
I didn’t move.
Then I heard another sound.
The back door opening.
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