Don’t Open the Door: Death in 403 / Chapter 4: Accusations, Confessions, and the Thing in the Dark
Don’t Open the Door: Death in 403

Don’t Open the Door: Death in 403

Author: Michael Branch

Chapter 4: Accusations, Confessions, and the Thing in the Dark

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"Hey, 401, can you take a look at the body outside my door?"

"That way we’ll know who it is."

The request was practical, but it sent a new wave of dread through me. I waited, holding my breath, for Jess’s reply.

A few minutes later, Jess started describing:

"Looks like a young guy with bleached blond hair."

"He’s wearing red Jordans."

"Some kind of trendy streetwear, but I don’t know the brand."

Her description was detailed, almost clinical. I pictured the body—young, stylish, totally out of place in this nightmare. The details made it all too real.

403 sent a voice message, practically grinding his teeth:

"Damn it, that’s the kid from 203!"

"We’ve been played!"

His anger was so raw I could almost hear his teeth grinding. The realization hit the group like a slap. I clenched my fists, rage boiling up.

I clenched my jaw. Heat flooded my face. I wanted to punch something, to scream. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming.

That 203 guy had said he called the cops, but now it looked like he was just buying time. I scrolled back, rereading his messages. The timeline didn’t add up. My hands shook with anger. We’d all been duped.

Maybe there was never a monster—maybe whoever had 203’s phone was just scaring us. Honestly, that was almost a relief. Monsters weren’t real—but killers were. I typed out my suspicions and sent them to the group.

Everyone was furious:

"Screw this, let’s catch him!"

Threats, plans, demands for justice. The fear turned to anger. We were united by a common enemy. I felt a surge of adrenaline, ready to do something—anything.

Someone from 403 spoke up too:

"I get it now. The kid from 203 and I are pretty close. We game together a lot."

"He must’ve noticed someone in his apartment and came upstairs to ask me for help."

"Then he got killed by this guy."

"To avoid getting caught, the murderer started pretending to be some kind of ghost to freak us out!"

"I’m going to deal with him myself!"

His words were full of righteous fury. I could picture him grabbing a baseball bat, ready to storm the hallway. The group cheered him on, anger contagious.

403 had a hot temper. Everyone knew it—he was the guy who yelled at HOA meetings, threatened to call the city about potholes. Tonight, his temper felt like a lifeline.

But soon, 602, who was with him, messaged:

"I talked 403 down. Haven’t you all noticed something?"

"Even if he’s a murderer, how could he keep all of us from calling the police?"

"So many of us called—were we all lying?"

His logic was calm, steady. The group paused, considering his words. The anger simmered, but doubt crept in.

That made the group fall silent again. No one wanted to admit it, but he was right. Something didn’t add up. The fear came back, colder than before.

203, who hadn’t said anything, finally spoke up:

"There... there really is something out here..."

His message was shaky, full of dread. The group erupted in confusion and accusations. Was this the killer, trying to scare us again?

Now it was our turn to be confused. People demanded answers, messages flying. I stared at the screen, heart pounding, waiting for 203 to explain.

What was 203 talking about? The question echoed in my mind. If he wasn’t the killer, then what was he? My skin prickled with anticipation.

403 started cursing again:

"Bullshit! You’re just trying to scare us!"

"Who are you, really?"

His anger was back, hotter than ever. The chat was a battlefield. I watched, helpless, as chaos unfolded.

203’s voice was almost in tears:

"Man, I’m a thief, but I swear I’m not pretending to be a ghost!"

"There really is something here!"

His confession stunned the group. I blinked, rereading his words. A thief? Tonight? The absurdity of it almost made me laugh.

203 hurriedly explained what happened to him. He’d been casing 203’s place for a while, since the guy was a shut-in who only left once a week to shower.

So when 203 went out, the thief snuck in. But just as he was about to leave, something weird happened.

He instinctively looked through the peephole. But it was pitch black outside. It wasn’t even night—dead bulbs shouldn’t have mattered.

He thought maybe someone had covered the peephole from outside. But the next second, he saw a black shadow in the darkness—a thing so black it almost gleamed.

He couldn’t make out what it was at all. That thing swallowed a cat whole, right in front of him. He was nearly scared to death.

So the thief hid inside 203’s apartment, hoping the thing would leave. But then the real 203 came home.

Next, he heard the sound of claws tearing flesh. Weirdly, there was no scream.

Instead, he heard a bubbling, gurgling noise—like a pot of soup boiling. Right after that, Jess from 401 sent her message in the group chat.

He messaged from 203’s account because the computer was already logged into Messenger.

He sounded completely sincere, even begging at the end:

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