The Last Call.

The phone rang.

Lena’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. 2:13 AM. The call center was dead silent, save for the occasional hum of the vending machine and the steady click of her typing. Her coworkers had long gone home, leaving her alone on the graveyard shift.

It wasn’t unusual to get calls in the middle of the night, but something about this call felt different. The ringing was sharper, more insistent, as if the phone itself was urging her to answer. She hesitated for a moment, staring at the old-fashioned receiver, before slowly picking it up.

"Customer Service, how can I help you?" she asked, her voice steady but her fingers tapping nervously against the desk.

Silence.

Lena frowned, pressing the phone closer to her ear. "Hello?"

Still nothing. But she could hear something—a faint sound, like someone breathing on the other end of the line. Then, a low whisper, barely audible, crackled through the receiver.

“Help… me…”

Lena froze. The voice was weak, distant, almost swallowed by static. "Hello? Are you okay? Do you need help?" she asked, sitting up straighter, her pulse quickening.

The line went dead.

She stared at the phone, her heart pounding. A prank? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to scare her on the night shift. She shook her head and placed the receiver back on the cradle. Probably some kids with nothing better to do.

But then, the phone rang again.

This time, the sound sent a chill down her spine. Lena swallowed hard and slowly picked up the receiver again. "Customer Service, how can I help you?"

The same voice. The same whisper. But this time, clearer.

“Help me… please…”

Lena’s skin prickled. “Who is this? Where are you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The whisper grew louder. “I’m… so cold. Help me…”

Her breath caught in her throat. Something was very wrong. She glanced around the empty office, feeling a sudden, oppressive weight in the air. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed too bright, casting long, eerie shadows that danced along the walls.

"Where are you?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

The line crackled again, and the voice seemed to shift, as if the person on the other end was moving through static, through darkness. "I'm... here... with you..."

Lena's blood ran cold. She slammed the phone down, her hands shaking. A cold sweat had broken out across her forehead, and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. She stood up, glancing at the clock. 2:20 AM. Only seven minutes had passed since the first call, but it felt like hours.

The phone rang again.

Lena backed away from the desk, her eyes fixed on the ringing phone. Every instinct screamed at her not to answer it, but she couldn’t just leave it, could she? What if someone really needed help?

Her feet moved on their own, taking slow, hesitant steps back toward the desk. Her hand reached out, trembling, and she picked up the receiver once more.

"Hello?"

The breathing was louder now, more labored, more desperate.

“I see you…”

Lena's heart stopped. She spun around, scanning the empty office, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. There was no one here. She was alone
"Who are you? What do you want?" she demanded, her voice shaking

The whisper on the other end of the line seemed to grow amused. "I’m closer than you think."

A loud thud echoed from the back of the office, near the storage room. Lena dropped the phone, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. She stared at the dark hallway leading to the back, her mind racing. Had she imagined it? Was it just her nerves getting the better of her?

The phone lay on the desk, the dial tone buzzing faintly in the quiet room. She took a shaky step toward the hallway, peering into the darkness. There was nothing there. Just rows of filing cabinets and the dim glow of the emergency exit sign.

Another thud, louder this time.

Lena jumped, her heart slamming against her ribs. She backed away from the hallway, her eyes wide with fear. Something was back there. She could feel it.
The phone rang again.
Lena nearly screamed, her nerves frayed to the breaking point. She stared at the phone, her hands trembling. This time, she didn’t want to answer it. She couldn’t.

But the ringing wouldn’t stop.

She reached out with shaking hands, grabbed the receiver, and slowly lifted it to her ear.

“I’m right behind you.”

The voice was no longer a whisper. It was clear, cold, and terrifyingly close.

Lena spun around, her breath catching in her throat. The office was empty—still the same rows of desks, the same flickering lights, the same shadows. But something was wrong. The air felt thicker, colder. She could feel it pressing down on her, suffocating her.
A shadow moved at the far end of the office, near the storage room. Lena’s eyes locked on it, her breath coming in shallow gasps. It was faint, barely visible, but it was there. A dark figure standing in the doorway, watching her.

Her blood turned to ice. She couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. All she could do was stare as the figure slowly began to move toward her, its footsteps echoing in the empty office.

The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
The figure was getting closer, its outline becoming clearer. It was tall, with long, thin limbs, its face obscured in shadow. But its eyes—its eyes were glowing faintly in the darkness, cold and empty
Lena backed up until she hit the wall, her chest heaving with terror. The figure was only a few feet away now, its eyes locked on hers. She could hear its breathing, deep and ragged, filling the silence of the office.

It reached out a hand.

The lights flickered.

And then, everything went black.


---



When the morning shift arrived at 6 AM, they found the office empty. Lena’s desk was untouched, the phone lying off the hook, the line buzzing softly in the quiet room. But there was no sign of her. No one had seen her leave. No one had heard a thing.


Except for one last, chilling detail.


The phone’s call log showed that the last call had been made from inside the building.


And it came from a line that hadn’t been connected in years.