THE GIRL WHO ANSWERED THE PHONE

The first call came at 2:13 a.m. Nora was asleep when the phone began to ring. One ring. Then silence. She opened her eyes. The room was completely dark. Her phone lay on the bedside table, glowing faintly. She stared at it. No name. No number. Just: UNKNOWN CALLER Nora pulled the blanket closer. The phone stopped ringing. She closed her eyes. A few seconds later— Ring. Her eyes opened again. The same number. She ignored it. The ringing stopped. Then came a message. Nora reached for the phone. UNKNOWN CALLER: Don’t answer. She frowned. Another message appeared. UNKNOWN CALLER: Whatever you do, don’t answer the next call. Nora sat up. Her bedroom suddenly felt colder. She looked toward the door. It was closed. She lived alone. Another message appeared. UNKNOWN CALLER: She’s already inside. Nora’s breathing stopped. She stared at the screen. Then she heard something. A soft sound from the hallway. A floorboard creaking. Nora slowly lowered the phone. “Hello?” Nothing. She listened. Another creak. Closer. Nora reached for the lamp. She switched it on. Nothing happened. The bulb flickered once. Then went dark. Her phone rang again. 2:13 a.m. Nora stared at the screen. This time, the number wasn’t hidden. It was hers. Her own phone number was calling her. She nearly dropped the phone. The ringing continued. She watched her own number flashing across the screen. Then another message appeared. ANSWER IT. Nora whispered: “No.” The phone stopped. Silence returned. Then— Knock. Nora froze. Someone had knocked on her bedroom door. Three slow knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. Nora couldn’t move. Her phone lit up again. A new message. UNKNOWN CALLER: Don’t open the door. Another message immediately followed. UNKNOWN CALLER: She’s pretending to be your mother. Nora’s heart slammed against her chest. Because before she could even process the message— a voice came from behind the bedroom door. “Nora?” Her mother’s voice. Soft. Familiar. Impossible. Nora’s mother had been dead for six years. “Nora, sweetheart.” Nora covered her mouth. The voice continued. “Open the door.” Nora backed away. Her phone started ringing. She looked down. Her mother’s name appeared on the screen. MUM Nora began shaking. That number had been disconnected six years ago. The phone kept ringing. Outside the bedroom, her mother’s voice whispered: “I know you’re awake.” Nora couldn’t breathe. Then the voice changed. It became deeper. Rougher. And something scratched slowly down the other side of the door. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Nora’s phone stopped ringing. A message appeared. UNKNOWN CALLER: You have 10 seconds. Nora stared at the screen. 9 The scratching stopped. 8 Something moved outside. 7 The bedroom door handle began turning. 6 Nora backed into the wall. 5 The handle stopped. 4 Her phone vibrated. One final message appeared. 3 LOOK UNDER YOUR BED. Nora’s blood turned cold. 2 She didn’t want to. She knew she shouldn’t. But something inside her made her look down. The darkness beneath the bed was impossibly deep. And from underneath it— two pale fingers slowly curled around the edge of the mattress. Nora screamed. The bedroom door burst open. She spun around. Nobody was there. The hallway was empty. Her phone rang again. She looked at the screen. The caller ID said: NORA Her own name. Her own number. She answered. For several seconds, there was only static. Then she heard breathing. A woman’s breathing. Slow. Terrified. And then a whisper: “Nora…” Her own voice. Nora couldn’t speak. The voice on the phone whispered again: “Whatever you do…” A pause. “Don’t look behind you.” Nora’s eyes slowly widened. Because she could feel something breathing against the back of her neck. Warm. Wet. Close. The voice on the phone began crying. Then it whispered: “I’m sorry.” Nora shut her eyes. “What?” The voice answered: “Because I already did.” The call ended. Nora remained frozen. Then, from directly behind her, her own voice whispered: “Hello.” Nora opened her eyes. And slowly turned around. There was nobody there. But the bedroom mirror was no longer reflecting the room. It was showing a different bedroom. Her bedroom. Seven years older. The walls were stained black. The furniture was destroyed. And in the reflection… Nora was standing in the corner. Older. Blood running down her face. Staring directly at her. The older Nora raised one finger to her lips. Then she mouthed four words: “Don’t trust the phone.” The mirror went black. Nora screamed. And somewhere in the house… the phone began ringing again. 2:13 a.m.