They Texted Me After Death

The messages started three days after all five of my friends died.

The group chat was called Friday Night Crew. We'd had it for years. It was where we shared jokes, argued about movies, planned weekend trips, and wasted entire afternoons sending memes back and forth.

There were six of us.

Then there were five.

Then there was only me.

The others died during a road trip to the mountains.

I was supposed to be with them.

I canceled at the last minute because I felt sick. At least, that's what I told everyone.

The accident happened during a storm. According to the police report, their SUV went off a cliff sometime after midnight.

Nobody survived.

For three days, the group chat stayed silent.

Then, at exactly 2:17 a.m., my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Half-asleep, I picked it up and looked at the screen.

There was a new message.

From Ethan.

Ethan, who had been dead for three days.

You should have come with us.

I stared at the words for several seconds.

Then I let out a short laugh.

It had to be a joke.

A cruel one, but still a joke.

I opened the chat.

Nobody had replied.

There was only that single message.

I checked Ethan's profile.

Same picture.

Same account.

Nothing looked unusual.

A knot formed in my stomach.

I turned my phone off and tried to go back to sleep.

The next night, at exactly 2:17 a.m., another notification appeared.

This time, it came from Rachel.

Road trips aren't the same without everyone.

I sat straight up in bed.

Rachel was dead too.

My chest felt tight as I typed a response.

Who's doing this?

The message showed as delivered.

A few seconds later, another reply appeared.

We miss you.

Then another.

Why weren't you with us?

I didn't answer.

I muted the chat and deleted it.

The next morning, it was back.

Every message.

Every notification.

Exactly where it had been before.

I changed my phone number.

The messages kept coming.

I bought a new phone.

The messages kept coming.

Every night.

2:17 a.m.

Always.

At first, the conversations were almost normal.

The chat looked the way it always had.

They joked with each other.

Talked about old memories.

Brought up stories from years ago.

But some of those stories weren't online anywhere. They mentioned private conversations, secrets, things that had only happened when the six of us were together.

Things nobody else should have known.

Then the messages started changing.

The questions became harder to ignore.

Why weren't you in the car?

You were supposed to come.

We saved a seat for you.

I stopped sleeping.

Stopped answering calls.

Stopped going out unless I absolutely had to.

Most nights, I just sat in my apartment waiting for 2:17 to arrive.

One evening, trying to distract myself, I started scrolling through old photos.

Birthdays.

Camping trips.

Graduations.

Years of friendship.

That's when I noticed something strange.

In almost every group picture, Ethan was looking at me.

Not the camera.

Me.

I zoomed in on photo after photo.

The older the picture was, the stranger his expression seemed.

Not angry.

Not exactly.

Just... suspicious.

Like he'd figured something out long before anyone else.

At 2:17 a.m., my phone buzzed again.

I already knew what I'd see.

The group chat.

A new message.

We know why you didn't come.

My mouth went dry.

I stared at the screen.

Another message appeared.

You cut the brake line.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

Nobody knew that.

Nobody.

Months earlier, after a vicious argument, I'd gone to the garage furious.

I hadn't planned to kill anyone.

At least, that's what I'd told myself afterward.

I only wanted to scare them.

Make the vehicle break down before the trip.

Teach them a lesson.

Then I walked away.

I never checked what happened afterward.

Never confessed.

Never told a single person.

My phone buzzed again.

We know.

Another message followed almost immediately.

We're outside.

A cold feeling settled over me.

Slowly, I turned toward the window.

Across the street, beneath a flickering streetlight, five figures stood perfectly still.

I couldn't make out their faces.

I didn't need to.

I knew who they were.

The phone buzzed one last time.

I looked down.

A single message filled the screen.

This time, you're coming with us.

The lights in my apartment went out.

A second later, something knocked on the front door.