Mira couldn't sleep. The old phone lay on her bedside table, its dull green light blinking like a heartbeat in the dark.
She had switched it off — twice — yet somehow, every time she opened her eyes, it was back on. Waiting for her.
She grabbed her pillow and buried her face in it, hoping the light would disappear if she just ignored it long enough. But the faint buzz — a vibration she could feel through the mattress — wouldn't let her drift off.
Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she sat up and snatched the phone.
No missed calls. No messages. Nothing new — except that one contact that refused to be deleted:
Unknown Caller.
She had tried everything — factory reset, battery removal, even smashing the SIM card. Still, the contact stayed.
She tapped it, half hoping it would disappear. Instead, the call button glowed faintly, inviting her. Daring her.
Don't do it, her mind warned. But her finger was already moving.
The instant she pressed "Call", the air in her room turned frigid. The small desk lamp flickered and died.
The silence on the other end was worse than any ringtone.
She strained her ears — static crackled, then a low, ragged breathing slithered through the speaker.
"Who is this?" she whispered, voice trembling.
The breathing stopped.
For a heartbeat, she thought the call had dropped — until a broken, distorted voice rasped out:
"Don't trust him…"
Mira's stomach lurched. "Who? Who shouldn't I trust? Answer me!"
But there was only static now, punctuated by faint whispers she couldn't make out. Her eyes darted to the door when she heard footsteps outside her room.
"Mira?" Daniel's voice, soft but insistent. "Are you awake? Who are you talking to?"
She ignored him, pressing the phone tighter to her ear. "Tell me who you are! Who's 'him'?!"
The static deepened into a harsh crackle. Then, in a tone that chilled her spine, the voice spoke again:
"He knows…"
Click. The line went dead. The screen faded to black.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glossy screen — wide eyes, sweat beading on her forehead.
"Mira?" Daniel knocked again, louder this time. "Open the door. I heard you talking."
She looked at the door, then back at the phone. Her mind raced.
Daniel had been acting strange all week — asking too many questions, lurking near her room when she was on calls. He was the one who found the old phone for her at that dusty flea market.
And ever since she brought it home, her dreams had turned to nightmares.
Another buzz jolted her out of her thoughts. The phone lit up — a new message. She forced herself to look:
Unknown: "He knows you called."
A chill prickled down her neck.
She dropped the phone on the bed as if it had burned her hand. Her eyes darted to the door where Daniel's shadow loomed underneath the crack.
"Mira, open up. What's wrong?" he called again, his voice softer now — almost too gentle.
She stepped back, shaking her head. She didn't trust her voice to answer.
Another buzz. Another message.
Unknown: "Don't open the door."
Her heart thundered so loud she was sure Daniel could hear it.
She pressed her back against the wall, staring at the door handle as it turned slightly.
She glanced at the phone, hoping for another message — something — but the screen stayed black.
"Mira," Daniel called again, softer, coaxing, "I just want to help you. Let me in."
She swallowed hard, gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white.
In the silence, she realized she could hear breathing — but it wasn't hers. It was right behind the door.
The handle turned more — then stopped.
"Mira…"
The old phone buzzed violently in her hand. One final message flickered onto the cracked screen:
Unknown: "Run."