When the phone started ringing again, a chill ran down my spine.
My mother’s name flashed across the screen once more.
For a moment, I almost answered.
Then I looked at the federal agent.
She didn’t seem frightened.
She seemed concerned.
“If you answer that call right now, they could know exactly where you are,” she said quietly.
“Who?” I asked.
But she didn’t answer.
Behind her, another electronic beep echoed from inside Unit 17.
This time it was louder.
More urgent.
As if something inside was waiting specifically for me.
I gripped the brass key so tightly that my fingers began to ache.
My father had been buried less than an hour ago.
Yet with every passing minute, that reality felt less believable.
The coffin had been empty.
The FBI had been waiting for me.
And someone was desperately trying to get me back home.
The agent stepped closer.
“Your father wasn’t the man you thought he was.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“What does that mean?”
She hesitated.
Then glanced toward the storage unit.
“It means he spent more than twenty years knowing this day would eventually come.”
My phone vibrated again.
Another message.
It wasn’t from my mother.
Unknown number.
I opened the notification.
There were only four words.
DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR.
My blood ran cold.
I looked up at Unit 17.
At that exact moment, a metallic sound echoed from inside.
Like a lock unlocking by itself.
The agent went pale.
“That’s impossible…” she whispered.
“What is?”
She slowly stepped backward.
“No one should be in there.”
Then the door to Unit 17 began to open.
Slowly.
Silently.
And just before it swung fully open, I heard a voice coming from the darkness.
A voice I had heard my entire life.
My father’s voice.
“Giuliano… if you’re hearing this, it means I’ve run out of time.”
The story continues in the first comment…
