“I Should Never Have Answered That Call”

# I Should Never Have Answered That Call

### *The Voice on the Line Knew My Darkest Secret*

Rain tapped softly against the windows of my apartment as I sat alone at my desk. The city outside was drowning in silence, hidden beneath thick fog and flickering streetlights. It was nearly 3:00 AM, the kind of hour when the world feels empty… when even your own thoughts sound unfamiliar.

I should have been asleep.

Instead, I stared at my laptop screen, trying to finish an article that refused to write itself. My coffee had gone cold hours ago, and exhaustion pressed heavily against my eyes.

That was when my phone rang.

The sound shattered the silence so suddenly that I nearly dropped my mug.

Unknown Number.

I frowned.

Nobody called me this late.

For a moment, I let it ring. Once. Twice. Three times.

Then it stopped.

I exhaled slowly and rubbed my forehead.

Probably spam.

I reached for my coffee again—

The phone rang a second time.

Unknown Number.

Something about it felt wrong this time. Not dangerous exactly… just strange. Like the room itself had become colder.

I hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

At first, there was only static.

Then breathing.

Slow.

Heavy.

My grip tightened around the phone.

“Who is this?”

The breathing stopped.

And then a voice whispered:

“You should’ve locked the bedroom window.”

My blood froze.

I stood up so quickly that my chair crashed behind me.

Every light in the apartment suddenly felt dimmer.

I turned toward my bedroom door.

Closed.

Silent.

But somehow, the voice on the phone had sounded close. Too close.

“Who is this?” I repeated louder.

A soft laugh crackled through the speaker.

“You still keep the photo under your bed.”

I stopped breathing.

No one knew about the photo.

No one.

Not my friends. Not my family.

I hadn’t shown it to anyone in over five years.

With shaking hands, I walked toward my bedroom.

The hallway suddenly felt endless.

Dark.

Empty.

The floor creaked beneath my feet.

I pushed the bedroom door open slowly.

Nothing.

The curtains moved gently beside the open window.

Cold air drifted into the room.

My stomach twisted.

I was sure I had locked that window earlier.

The voice spoke again.

“She never found out what really happened that night.”

My knees nearly gave out.

The photo.

The secret.

That night.

How could this person know?

Five years earlier, my best friend Daniel had disappeared after we argued during a camping trip in the mountains. The police questioned everyone for months, but they never found him.

Officially, he was considered missing.

But I knew the truth.

At least… part of it.

That night, Daniel and I fought beside the cliffs overlooking the forest. Angry words turned into shouting. Shouting turned into pushing.

Then he slipped.

I still remember the sound of rocks falling into darkness.

I searched for him for hours, terrified and crying, but I never found his body.

Fear destroyed me.

So I lied.

I told the police Daniel ran away after our argument.

And ever since then, I carried that secret like a curse.

The only thing I kept was an old photograph of us together from that camping trip. I hid it under my bed because looking at it reminded me of the person I used to be before guilt consumed me.

“You’re lying…” I whispered into the phone.

Another laugh.

This time closer.

Then the voice said something that turned my entire body cold.

“I’m standing behind you.”

I spun around instantly.

Nothing.

Empty room.

But my heartbeat thundered so loudly I could barely hear myself think.

Then—

A knock.

Three slow taps echoed from inside my apartment.

Not the front door.

The closet.

I stared at it.

Frozen.

Another knock.

My phone slipped from my trembling hand and hit the floor, but the call didn’t disconnect. I could still hear breathing from the speaker.

The closet door creaked open by itself.

Just slightly.

Darkness waited inside.

And then I saw it.

A figure.

Tall.

Still.

Watching me.

I stumbled backward and hit the wall.

The room suddenly smelled like wet earth and rainwater.

The figure stepped forward slowly into the moonlight.

My heart nearly stopped.

Daniel.

Or something that looked like him.

His clothes were torn and covered in dirt. Water dripped from his hair onto the floor. His face looked pale… almost gray.

But his eyes—

His eyes looked empty.

“You left me there,” he whispered.

Tears filled my eyes instantly.

“I tried to find you,” I choked out.

“You left me.”

The lights in the apartment began flickering violently.

The walls seemed darker somehow, as if shadows were crawling across them.

“I was scared…” I whispered.

Daniel tilted his head slowly.

“That fear followed you home.”

My phone suddenly screamed with static.

The windows slammed shut.

Every light went out.

Darkness swallowed the apartment whole.

I couldn’t breathe.

Then something touched my shoulder.

Ice cold.

I turned sharply—

And the lights came back on.

The room was empty.

No figure.

No movement.

Nothing.

Only silence.

My chest rose and fell rapidly as I looked around.

The closet stood open.

Inside was only darkness.

Then my phone buzzed one final time.

A text message appeared from the Unknown Number.

“I forgive you.”

The number disappeared seconds later.

No call history.

No messages.

Nothing.

As if it never existed.

The next morning, I packed my belongings and left that apartment forever.

But even now… years later… I still wake up some nights at exactly 3:00 AM.

And sometimes—

My phone rings.

Unknown Number.

I never answer it anymore. now genrate a cover image for it at very high qulity and engage