HE HID A BURNER PHONE IN THE ATTIC AND MY NAME WAS THE ONLY CONTACT
My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the cheap black plastic burner phone when I saw the screen light up. I found it hidden under a loose floorboard in the cramped attic space, back in a dark corner. It smelled faintly of old insulation dust and damp wood, thick in the stale air. The rough grain of the unfinished wood scratched painfully at my fingers as I carefully pulled the small black plastic device from its dusty, concealed spot. It looked incredibly cheap and worn, definitely the kind you buy prepaid and hide deliberately.
I fumbled with the small button and got it turned on, half-expecting secret texts from another woman or maybe records of shady deals. But when the contact list finally loaded slowly, there was only one single name saved on the entire device: ‘Sarah’. My name. The only recent activity showing was incoming calls and texts *from* that single, shocking contact listed as me. It made absolutely no sense, and a cold dread started in my gut like ice.
He walked in just then, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly on the steep attic stairs behind me. “What are you even doing up here?” he asked, his voice trying far too hard for casualness but sounding strained and suspicious as he watched me intently. I slowly turned around, gripping the cheap phone tightly in my trembling hand, and held it up towards him, the low battery symbol blinking frantically on the dim screen. “What is THIS, Mark? Why in the world is *my* name the only contact on this secret phone you clearly didn’t want me to find?”
His face instantly went paper white under the bare bulb’s harsh light, draining of all color, then his jaw tightened hard and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. “What are you even talking about, Sarah? That phone isn’t mine, I’ve never seen it in my entire life, I swear.” But his eyes darted involuntarily, just for a split second, to the exact dusty corner where I’d found it hidden away. The suffocating silence stretched between us, broken only by the frantic pounding of my own heart and the distant low hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
Then a new text message notification suddenly popped up on the dark screen, it chillingly read ‘Target acquired. Initiate phase two.’
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*Sarah stared at the chilling message, then back at Mark, her fear twisting into a furious betrayal. “Target acquired? Phase two? What the hell is this, Mark? Is this about me? Am I the target?”
His carefully constructed denial crumbled completely. The paper-white face flushed crimson, then drained again, leaving it pasty and glistening with sweat. His hands unclenched, then came up in a frantic, pleading gesture. “Sarah, listen to me, please. It’s not what you think. Not exactly.”
“Then what *is* it?” My voice was raw, barely a whisper. “Why is my name on this phone? Who is sending you messages about ‘targets’?”
He stumbled forward, eyes wide with a desperate kind of panic. “The phone… it’s not mine for *me*. It’s… complicated. The name ‘Sarah’… it’s a code. Not you. Not the real you.” He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking again towards the corner, towards the attic stairs. “They make me use it. I… I got into something I couldn’t get out of. They said they needed someone on the inside, someone close to…” He trailed off, his eyes locking onto mine, the truth dawning in his gaze with sickening clarity. “…close to you.”
My blood ran cold. “Close to me? Why? What do they want with me?”
“I don’t know!” he insisted, his voice hoarse. “Not at first. They just gave me instructions, told me to monitor things, wait for the signal. That text… ‘Target acquired’… it means… it means they’re ready. They found you.”
“Found me?” I backed away slowly, bumping into a dusty wooden beam. “But I live here! Where were they supposed to find me?”
“Somewhere they could isolate you,” he choked out, his breath catching in his throat. “Maybe they thought you’d be out, maybe they were watching. The text means they’re making their move *now*.”
A sudden, sharp noise from downstairs – a faint creak, like a door opening that shouldn’t be. We both froze, listening. It came again, louder this time, followed by the distinct sound of footsteps on the ground floor. Heavy, deliberate footsteps that were definitely not ours.
Mark’s eyes were wide with terror. “They’re here,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “That’s phase two. Entry.”
Panic seized me, but a part of my mind was chillingly clear. The burner phone was still clutched in my hand, the low battery icon blinking like a frantic warning. “Who is ‘Sarah’ on the phone?” I demanded again, needing to understand.
“My handler,” Mark choked out. “The one giving the orders. They just used your name as a cover.”
More footsteps downstairs, closer now, reaching the foot of the attic stairs. The air grew thick with the smell of stale dust and burgeoning fear.
“We have to go,” Mark said, his voice regaining a sliver of urgency, pulling me towards the small attic window on the far side. “There’s a trellis under the window. We can climb down. Hurry!”
He scrambled towards the window, fumbling with the latch. My mind reeled – Mark, involved in something so dangerous, using a secret phone with my name as a code, leading to people breaking into our house *right now*. It was a betrayal, yes, but the look in his eyes wasn’t malice, it was sheer, desperate fear. Fear for me, or fear of his handlers? At that moment, it didn’t matter. Survival did.
The footsteps started ascending the creaking attic stairs. They were almost at the top.
I didn’t hesitate. Gripping the useless burner phone like a weapon, I turned and ran after Mark towards the only escape route, the sounds of the intruders growing terrifyingly loud behind us. The cheap plastic phone was the key to the nightmare, and now it was useless. We just had to get out.