When she woke up, there were 17 voicemails from a stranger. Lena’s phone had been buzzing insistently, each buzz dragging her from the haze of exhaustion that clung to her like a heavy blanket. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. Her muscles ached from the brutal double shift she’d just worked at the hospital. She remembered stumbling through her front door at seven o'clock that evening, kicking off her shoes, switching her phone off, and sinking straight into bed, too drained to think about dinner. She groaned, reaching for the phone on the nightstand, but quickly froze as the screen lit up. Seventeen missed calls. Seventeen voicemails. All from the same unknown number.


As she began to sit up, her stomach tightened. Who calls someone seventeen times in a single afternoon? Her first instinct was irritation; her second... a creeping unease.


Her hand trembled as she tapped the first voicemail


Message 1 - 19:30: “I’ve been waiting for this moment… I hope you’ll be as excited as I am.”

Her face froze. The voice was low, smooth, almost intimate.


Message 2 - 20:00: “It’s strange, isn't it? How long a single day can feel when you’re thinking about someone?”

Her pulse quickened. These weren’t random words. They were personal, directed at her.


Message 3 - 20:15: “I’ve imagined how tonight will go. I hope you’re ready.”

Lena felt the first prickle of true fear.


Message 4 - 20:30: “I can’t wait any longer. I’ll be there very soon.”

She froze. Be there? Where… what? Her fingers tightened around the phone.

The shadows in her apartment seemed to shift. Every creak, every hum of the street outside suddenly felt threatening.


Message 5 - 20:45: “I want to see you… touch you.”

Her gut twisted into knots. Her mind flashed to the news: women missing in nearby neighborhoods, warnings of a predator on the loose.


Message 6 - 21:00: “I keep imagining your face… your voice… your scent.”

A cold sweat broke across her skin. The walls seemed to close in, the air now heavier.

She tapped the next message with trembling hands.


Message 7 - 21:15: “I can’t wait to put my hand over your mouth.”

Goosebumps prickled along her arms.


Message 8 - 21:20: “I’ve imagined this night, over and over again…”

What was happening?


Message 9 - 21:25: “You’ll remember this night forever… I promise.”

The shadows seemed to pool in the corners of the room, watchful and patient as though plotting their next move. Every sound now, the refrigerator humming, the streetlights flickering, felt like a threat.


Message 10 - 21:30: “When I finally see you, you won’t be able to resist.”


Message 11 - 21:32: “Why are you not answering me? Are you playing games?”

Her fingers shook. Every instinct screamed to leave, to run, to hide. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the phone.


Message 12 - 21:34: “Well, have it your way. I’m coming.”

She pressed play on the next one automatically. Horrified. Mesmerised.


Message 13 - 21:36: “Stop pretending you don’t want it as much as I do. I know you must have heard these messages by now.”


Message 14 - 21:38: “The more you pretend, the more it excites me.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her breaths now short and ragged. She looked toward the window. The street seemed darker, emptier, yet...she felt eyes on her.


Message 15 - 21:40: “Ignoring me won’t make me stop. I am closer than you think!”

Panic clawed at her throat. Her hands trembled as she tapped the screen, each voicemail heavier than the last, pulling her closer to the edge.


Message 16 - 21:42: “I can hardly wait. When I find you… I’ll make you remember tonight forever.”

Lena shot upright, heart hammering, and grabbed the table lamp from her nightstand. She moved toward the door but froze when she saw a shadow shift by the window. Fumbling, she locked the deadbolt and pressed herself against the wall, breathing hard. Her eyes flicked to the phone, then back to the street outside. Something - or someone - was out there.


And then... Message 17. By now, Lena was shaking violently, tears streaming down her face, as every nerve in her body buzzed with fear. Yet she knew she had no choice - she had to listen to the final message. With unsteady fingers, she tapped the screen.


Message 17 - 21:45: “Oh… wait. I just realised I’ve been calling the wrong number. I thought I was reaching my wife, but she just called me. Oh my God! I see now! I’ve been harassing you all this time! I’m so, so sorry!”


Lena exhaled in a rush, relief so intense it made her dizzy. She laughed, the sound shattering the tension that had gripped her apartment. Just a wrong number. Not a killer on the loose. Not someone dangerous. Not anyone out to get her. A simple misdial. And somehow… that made her laugh even harder.


Then the phone buzzed again - the same unknown number. Lena’s stomach clenched again, but curiosity and her sudden sense of safety pushed her to answer.


“I-I’m so sorry,” the man said, his voice tight with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I scared you. I thought I was calling my wife. She just rang me. I feel so awful!”


Lena let out a shaky laugh. “Awful? Awful? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”


“I’m Jake, by the way,” he said, chuckling nervously. “And totally harmless! Just a guy who dialed wrong. Please don’t let this ruin your night!”


“No worries,” Lena said, laughing softly. “My plans aren’t ruined!”


She hung up and glanced at the clock. Running late for her night out with Mara, she sprang up, put on a red blouse and a pleated skirt that bounced with every step, touched up her mascara, fluffed her curls, and added a swipe of lipstick. A rush of delight ran through her as she imagined herself recounting the whole story to Mara, laughing together at its absurdity. Vibrant and alert, she stepped out of the house, heels clicking against the pavement, a surge of excitement propelling her forward. With phone in hand, she tapped Mara’s number as the cool night air stirred her hair. She paused, smoothing the pleats of her skirt, just as Mara’s voice came through.


“Oh, Mara, you are not going to believe this!” Lena said with excitement.


Suddenly, a hand clamped over Lena’s mouth. She struggled, heart pounding against her chest. Through the phone, Mara heard a muffled sound, then the line went dead. As Lena sank into darkness, a low, all-too-familiar voice whispered in her ear: “I told you... I can hardly wait…”