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She Started Hearing Conversations That Never Happened — They Knew Her Name Part 2

It wasn’t just noise anymore… they were talking about her.

By Dorothea Bautz-JohnPublished about 9 hours ago 2 min read

She didn’t move.

Not at first.

Elena stood frozen in her kitchen, her eyes fixed on the wall.

Her heartbeat loud.

Too loud.

Drowning everything else out.

Except—

the voices.

They were still there.

Quieter now.

Lower.

But unmistakably real.

Her breath came slowly.

Carefully.

As if any sudden movement might make them stop again.

And she didn’t want that.

Not anymore.

Because now—

she needed to hear.

Needed to understand.

She stepped closer to the wall.

Slow.

Controlled.

Her bare feet silent against the floor.

The voices grew clearer.

Not loud.

Not sharp.

But closer.

Like someone speaking just inches away.

Her fingers brushed lightly against the surface.

Cold.

Solid.

Normal.

Too normal.

“…she’s listening again.”

Elena’s chest tightened instantly.

Her breath caught.

Her entire body going still.

They knew.

A second voice answered.

Calm.

Almost amused.

“She always does.”

Her throat went dry.

“No…” she whispered.

But the word felt weak.

Meaningless.

Because they weren’t reacting to her voice.

They weren’t reacting at all.

They were just continuing.

Like she wasn’t there—

but still somehow included.

Her hand pressed flat against the wall now.

As if she could feel them through it.

As if there was something just beyond reach.

Something watching.

Something waiting.

“…she’s closer today.”

The first voice again.

Soft.

Observing.

Elena’s fingers curled slightly.

Her pulse racing.

Her thoughts stumbling over each other.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Her voice trembling.

Fragile.

But this time—

the voices didn’t stop.

They didn’t fade.

They didn’t disappear.

They answered.

Directly.

“She’s starting to understand.”

A pause.

A shift.

Something changing in the tone.

And then—

“She’s almost ready.”

Elena’s stomach dropped.

Cold panic flooding through her body.

“Ready for what?” she demanded.

Her voice louder now.

Breaking.

Desperate.

Silence.

Complete.

Total.

Like before.

But worse this time.

Because now—

it felt intentional.

Like they had chosen to stop.

Chosen to leave her with that.

Her breathing became uneven.

Too fast.

Too shallow.

“This isn’t real…”

She stepped back.

One step.

Then another.

Creating distance.

Needing space.

Needing—

The wall tapped.

Once.

Sharp.

Clear.

From the other side.

Elena froze.

Her eyes snapping back.

Her body locking instantly.

Another tap.

Then another.

Slow.

Rhythmic.

Deliberate.

Her heart pounded violently.

“No…”

A whisper.

Barely there.

And then—

very softly—

right against the wall—

right behind where her hand had been—

a voice spoke.

Clear.

Close.

Impossible.

“You can come through now.”

supernaturalpsychological

About the Creator

Dorothea Bautz-John

True crime writer exploring unsolved mysteries, serial killers, and the darker side of history.

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