I Came Back to Make the Music Box Kill You
My roommate brought back an old music box, saying she had picked it up at a flea market.
I told her not to keep it.
It was too old.
Who knew where it had come from or how many hands it had passed through.
But the moment the music box was opened, and the melody began to play, a chill ran down my spine.
The next day, a girl from the dorm next door jumped off the building.
A week later, a child from a nearby orphanage died the same way.
When the police came to investigate, my roommate quietly hid the music box.
It wasn’t until I found myself standing on the rooftop that I realized none of this was an accident.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she brought the music box home.
This time, I was going to make sure she listened to it.