# 5 True Pizza Hut Horror Story Delivery After Dark A Pizza Hut Horror Story

An episode of [AfterDark Reddits](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1896809423), 27 Oct 2026, 45 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/74987376/023_5_true_pizza_hut_horror_story_delivery_after_dark_a_pizza_hut_horror_story.mp3



## Transcript

[0:03] Speaker 1: I used to think freedom would taste like pizza, hot, greasy,
[0:06] Speaker 1: overloaded with cheese and carbs, everything I wasn't allowed to
[0:09] Speaker 1: want growing up. But freedom came in paper form, my
[0:13] Speaker 1: first paycheck. I stared at it on the jeep ride over,
[0:17] Speaker 1: letting the numbers burn into my skull like proof that
[0:20] Speaker 1: I had finally made it. Three weeks into my job
[0:23] Speaker 1: at the call center, night shifts that left my voice
[0:26] Speaker 1: hoarse and my body wired. But I endured because this
[0:30] Speaker 1: meant I could move out. Away from Tito June and
[0:33] Speaker 1: his wandering eyes, his drunk midnight rants, the house where
[0:36] Speaker 1: every room felt smaller than my skin. That paycheck was
[0:40] Speaker 1: supposed to fix things. Rent, food, maybe even a second-hand blender.
[0:45] Speaker 1: I even skipped therapy last week to save for this
[0:48] Speaker 1: dinner just me and Allison, my one constant since college.
[0:52] Speaker 1: She always made things lighter. Funny in a smart-ass way.
[0:55] Speaker 1: The type who could roll her eyes and still make
[0:57] Speaker 1: you feel like laughing. But when I opened the envelope
[1:00] Speaker 1: in the back of the Jeep, The number didn't match
[1:03] Speaker 1: what I expected. Not even close. HR called it a
[1:07] Speaker 1: tax adjustment. I called it a kick in the gut.
[1:11] Speaker 1: As I slid into the sticky red booth at Pizza
[1:14] Speaker 1: Hut on Taft Avenue, I felt the weight of that
[1:16] Speaker 1: disappointment pressing into my chest. The AC sputtered like it
[1:20] Speaker 1: had asthma and the air smelled like reheated crust and
[1:23] Speaker 1: pine salt. But it didn't matter. I was out. Free.
[1:28] Speaker 1: Sort of. Allison sat across from me. Her eyeliner smudged
[1:32] Speaker 1: like she'd run here in the rain. This place hasn't
[1:36] Speaker 1: changed since college, she said, fanning herself with a laminated menu.
[1:42] Speaker 1: Still smells like a sweaty oven. We ordered a large
[1:45] Speaker 1: meat lovers. Extra cheese. It was our tradition. Celebratory carbs.
[1:50] Speaker 1: Shared complaints. Laughter that sounded too loud against the dull
[1:55] Speaker 1: hum of the ceiling fans. I smiled for real this time.
[1:58] Speaker 1: For the first time in weeks until her phone buzzed
[2:01] Speaker 1: just once. She checked it, grinned, then froze. Her face changed,
[2:06] Speaker 1: eyes narrowed. She turned the screen toward me. That first
[2:10] Speaker 1: bite looked delicious, the message read. Winky face and all. We. Laughed.
[2:16] Speaker 1: At first, wrong number probably. Creepy but harmless. I cracked
[2:21] Speaker 1: a joke about pizza fetishes, and Allison rolled her eyes
[2:24] Speaker 1: like she always did. We pushed it aside, focused on
[2:28] Speaker 1: the food, until her phone buzzed again. 23 p.m. The
[2:34] Speaker 1: way you lick your fingers is so sexy. This time
[2:38] Speaker 1: there was a photo. Blurry, dark, taken through glass. But unmistakable. Allison, mid-bite, laughing.
[2:48] Speaker 1: Her mouth open, greasy fingers at her lips. The time
[2:52] Speaker 1: stamp said it was taken five minutes ago. I felt
[2:55] Speaker 1: it before I thought it. The back of my neck prickled.
[3:00] Speaker 1: My stomach clenched. I looked around the restaurant, heartbeat thudding
[3:04] Speaker 1: in my ears. Allison's smile was gone. She went quiet, scrolling, refreshing,
[3:11] Speaker 1: checking her camera roll like maybe she'd taken the photo
[3:14] Speaker 1: herself without remembering. She hadn't. We flagged down the manager,
[3:20] Speaker 1: a kid no older than us wearing a red cap
[3:22] Speaker 1: too big for his head. He looked at the message,
[3:24] Speaker 1: the photo, then glanced around like he didn't know where
[3:26] Speaker 1: to start. I'll check the CCTV, he muttered. We waited.
[3:33] Speaker 1: Allison's hand didn't leave her phone. Mine was on the table,
[3:37] Speaker 1: clenched into a fist. The pizza sat between us, cooling, congealing.
[3:42] Speaker 1: Cheese turned to rubber. Ten minutes later, the manager returned. Pale. Uneasy. It's, uh,
[3:50] Speaker 1: it's one of our bartenders. Mark. He was tall. Handsome
[3:55] Speaker 1: in the way cheap guys always are. Charming if you're
[3:58] Speaker 1: drunk or desperate. I'd seen him before, Allison, too. He'd
[4:02] Speaker 1: flirted once when we ordered a Coke. Called me miss
[4:05] Speaker 1: like it was a joke. I hadn't thought much of it.
[4:09] Speaker 1: The manager showed us the screen. Mark at the bar,
[4:12] Speaker 1: phone tilted just so. Direct line of sight. To our booth.
[4:17] Speaker 1: He smirked every time Allison touched her phone. He's been
[4:20] Speaker 1: watching us? She whispered. The manager just nodded. We stood up.
[4:27] Speaker 1: Mark looked over and smiled. Not like he was caught.
[4:31] Speaker 1: Like he was proud. We confronted him, there in front
[4:34] Speaker 1: of the bar under the weak glow of a dying
[4:36] Speaker 1: ceiling light with the smell of frying oil thick in
[4:39] Speaker 1: the air. He didn't flinch, didn't even try to hide
[4:42] Speaker 1: his phone when Allison demanded to see.' It you serious?'
[4:45] Speaker 1: he laughed.' You want to go through my phone?'' Yes,'
[4:49] Speaker 1: I snapped.' Now.' He shrugged.' All right.' Mark opened his
[4:53] Speaker 1: gallery without hesitation. Not because he was innocent, but because
[4:57] Speaker 1: he didn't care. I scrolled. There were photos. Dozens.' Some blurry,
[5:02] Speaker 1: some zoomed in too close, all of them clearly taken
[5:05] Speaker 1: without consent. Women eating, texting, fixing their hair. A mother
[5:09] Speaker 1: helping her daughter tie a shoelace. A girl in a
[5:12] Speaker 1: school uniform biting into a breadstick. You call this fun?
[5:16] Speaker 1: I asked, my voice louder than I meant. He leaned
[5:19] Speaker 1: back against the counter like he was posing for a
[5:21] Speaker 1: magazine shoot. I didn't touch anyone. It's just photos. Compliments, really.
[5:28] Speaker 1: I wanted to slap the grin off his face. Allison
[5:32] Speaker 1: was trembling, now not with fear, but fury. You're a creep,
[5:36] Speaker 1: Mark shrugged. I'm not the only one. Check TikTok, it's
[5:40] Speaker 1: a trend. We turned to the manager, expecting backup, some
[5:44] Speaker 1: kind of policy, anything, but he was already retreating. We
[5:48] Speaker 1: can't really stop someone from using their phone unless there's
[5:53] Speaker 1: a threat. Allison and I stared at each other. Call
[5:57] Speaker 1: the police, I said. They came. two officers one tall
[6:03] Speaker 1: and bored the other clearly new and nervous they looked
[6:06] Speaker 1: at the messages the photos then at mark was there
[6:11] Speaker 1: a threat the older one asked no i admitted but
[6:17] Speaker 1: then it's not a crime not really but he's stalking
[6:21] Speaker 1: people without threats or violence we can't detain him he
[6:24] Speaker 1: didn't even post them online the manager stepped in we'll
[6:29] Speaker 1: uh comp your meal And dessert. On the house. Mark winked.
[6:36] Speaker 1: And that's when it broke inside me. The realization. Nothing
[6:41] Speaker 1: was going to happen to him. Back at home. If
[6:44] Speaker 1: you could still. Call it that. Tito June was smoking
[6:48] Speaker 1: by the kitchen window, shirtless, scratching his stomach. I walked
[6:51] Speaker 1: past him without a word. He followed. Oh, you're home early.
[6:56] Speaker 1: Your boyfriend didn't like the pizza? I ignored him. He grinned.
[7:00] Speaker 1: Took a drag. and blew the smoke into the hallway.
[7:04] Speaker 1: He took pictures, right? You should be flattered. He likes you.
[7:09] Speaker 1: You're pretty. I slammed my door, cried into my pillow
[7:13] Speaker 1: for the first time in months. Not because of Mark,
[7:16] Speaker 1: not just him, but because I knew, really knew, that
[7:20] Speaker 1: this was the world. Where men like Mark got away
[7:23] Speaker 1: with it. Where police shrugged. Where managers offered free dessert
[7:27] Speaker 1: like it was a peace treaty. where your uncle thinks
[7:30] Speaker 1: being sexualized is a compliment. I was three months clean
[7:34] Speaker 1: from cutting. My wrists still bore the faint marks. They
[7:37] Speaker 1: itched that night bad, like ghosts trying to claw their
[7:40] Speaker 1: way back in. At work, I couldn't focus. Every time
[7:44] Speaker 1: my phone buzzed, I flinched. Every chat window from a
[7:46] Speaker 1: client made me panic. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to
[7:50] Speaker 1: hum louder. My headset felt too tight. My supervisor pulled
[7:55] Speaker 1: me aside after my second mistake that shift. You're too
[7:58] Speaker 1: sensitive for this industry, she said, smiling like it was advice.
[8:02] Speaker 1: I wanted to scream, to throw something, but all I
[8:05] Speaker 1: did was nod. That weekend, Allison texted. Want to go
[8:10] Speaker 1: back to Pizza Hut? My treat. I hesitated, but I went.
[8:17] Speaker 1: Same booth, same sticky floor, same busted AC. Only now
[8:23] Speaker 1: I sat with my back against the wall. I scanned
[8:26] Speaker 1: every staff member twice, watched their hands, watched their phones.
[8:32] Speaker 1: When I took a photo of our meal, I checked
[8:35] Speaker 1: the reflection in the window behind me, just in case.
[8:39] Speaker 1: That's who I am now. Not paranoid. Prepared. It's weird
[8:44] Speaker 1: what you remember. Not the smell. Not the fear. Not
[8:49] Speaker 1: even the messages. I remember the way the cheese pulled
[8:53] Speaker 1: apart on that first slice. the sound of Allison's laugh
[8:56] Speaker 1: when she said, we're adults now. We eat dessert first.
[9:01] Speaker 1: I remember the hollow feeling after Mark's wink, the silence
[9:04] Speaker 1: as we walked to the parking lot, not talking, just breathing.
[9:09] Speaker 1: The way jeepneys idled under that flickering neon sign, smoke
[9:13] Speaker 1: curling into the humid air like ghosts escaping. I never
[9:16] Speaker 1: told my mom what happened. She had enough to worry about.
[9:20] Speaker 1: I never posted about it either. What would people say?
[9:24] Speaker 1: That's Nothing. Or, at least he didn't touch you. Or,
[9:30] Speaker 1: just block him. Easy words, safe words, from people who've
[9:35] Speaker 1: never had to look over their shoulder at a pizza hut.
[9:38] Speaker 1: Allison stopped going to that branch. I didn't. I don't
[9:42] Speaker 1: know why. Maybe because I want to take the space back.
[9:46] Speaker 1: Maybe because it reminds me that danger isn't just in
[9:48] Speaker 1: alleys and back seats. It's in booths, beneath flickering lights
[9:52] Speaker 1: served with extra cheese. I still sit with my back
[9:56] Speaker 1: to the wall. I still flinch when my phone buzzes.
[10:00] Speaker 1: but I'm still here. And that matters. Even if the
[10:04] Speaker 1: last slice tastes like memory and regret, even if the
[10:07] Speaker 1: laughter now comes softer, more careful, even if every visit
[10:12] Speaker 1: is a quiet protest, harassment isn't about the moment. It's
[10:16] Speaker 1: about the way it lingers like grease. You can't scrub
[10:19] Speaker 1: off your fingers. Like a scar you forget how you got,
[10:23] Speaker 1: but never forget you have. And now, every time someone says,
[10:28] Speaker 1: it's just a joke, I remember Mark's face and I
[10:30] Speaker 1: don't laugh. You learn to move silently when you're used
[10:38] Speaker 1: to hiding pain. I wear three layers to work. Not
[10:42] Speaker 1: for warmth, God knows Quiapo at night is hot enough
[10:44] Speaker 1: to peel skin, but to cover what shouldn't be seen.
[10:48] Speaker 1: My dad's cigarette burns still pucker my skin from two
[10:52] Speaker 1: months ago. My thighs are crisscrossed with lines I carved
[10:55] Speaker 1: into myself last night, just to remember I was still real.
[10:59] Speaker 1: I don't feel much these days unless I make myself
[11:01] Speaker 1: feel it. Mom pretends not to notice. She has her
[11:05] Speaker 1: own bruises to explain to the neighbors, and loan sharks
[11:08] Speaker 1: don't wait politely at the door. They come in like
[11:11] Speaker 1: they own the place, and in a way, they do.
[11:15] Speaker 1: Our fridge still works. thanks to my P-12,000 a month.
[11:19] Speaker 1: Not much, but enough to keep the lights on, barely.
[11:22] Speaker 1: I got the job at Pizza Hut because the manager,
[11:25] Speaker 1: Kuya Jomar, didn't ask about the scars. Just saw I
[11:29] Speaker 1: could smile on command and lift a mop bucket without crying.
[11:33] Speaker 1: That was good enough. I work the graveyard shift. It's
[11:36] Speaker 1: just me and Marvin, the delivery guy, whose breath always
[11:40] Speaker 1: smells like engine oil and whatever cheap shabu he's using
[11:43] Speaker 1: to stay vertical. He's harmless, mostly. Just wired and twitchy.
[11:48] Speaker 1: The branch is open 24 hours, though God knows why.
[11:52] Speaker 1: Between 2 and 5 a.m., we get more rats than customers.
[11:56] Speaker 1: The smell inside is half bleach, half pepperoni grease. The
[12:00] Speaker 1: neon sign. Buzzes like a dying wasp above the entrance
[12:03] Speaker 1: flickering so bad it gives me headaches. Still, I like
[12:06] Speaker 1: the quiet. Most nights I sweep the tiles twice just
[12:09] Speaker 1: for something to do. When things get too loud in
[12:12] Speaker 1: my head, I sit in the walk-in freezer for five minutes.
[12:16] Speaker 1: It's the only place no one follows. No sounds. No questions.
[12:21] Speaker 1: That night started like any other. Two. Many Red Bulls.
[12:25] Speaker 1: Marvin snoring in the back with his helmet still on.
[12:28] Speaker 1: The radio playing some old OPM ballad no one requested. Then, 2.47 a.m.,
[12:35] Speaker 1: the door chimed. He walked in like he belonged to
[12:37] Speaker 1: the dark. And everything changed. He looked like something. The
[12:41] Speaker 1: storm dragged in. Mud up to his knees, face gaunt
[12:44] Speaker 1: and twitching like he hadn't slept in days. His left
[12:47] Speaker 1: eye jumped in rhythm with the flickering sign outside. The
[12:51] Speaker 1: smell hit first. Gin, sweat, and something sharp, like rusted
[12:56] Speaker 1: metal or dried blood. Personal pan. Pepperoni, he said. His
[13:03] Speaker 1: voice was soft, but not weak. There was something too
[13:05] Speaker 1: sure in the way he leaned in, elbows pressing into
[13:08] Speaker 1: the counter like he wanted to crawl over it. His
[13:12] Speaker 1: eyes didn't blink much. I hit the register keys too fast.
[13:16] Speaker 1: Hands stiff. You look like my daughter, he said, breath, sour.
[13:22] Speaker 1: The one they took. I didn't answer. His eyes flicked
[13:26] Speaker 1: to my name tag. Thea, he read. Short for Althea.
[13:31] Speaker 1: That's nice. I took a half step back. Behind the
[13:34] Speaker 1: counter under the POS system was a tiny black button.
[13:37] Speaker 1: The panic alarm. I'd never touched it before. Didn't even
[13:41] Speaker 1: know if it worked. I hovered my finger above it.
[13:45] Speaker 1: He smiled. Wide, yellow teeth. Don't worry. I'm not gonna
[13:51] Speaker 1: hurt you. I just want my pizza. Marvin finally stumbled
[13:55] Speaker 1: out of the back, mumbling something about a wrong address
[13:58] Speaker 1: and a flat tire. The man stood straighter but didn't
[14:01] Speaker 1: say anything more. Just stepped aside and waited. Still smiling.
[14:06] Speaker 1: I made the pizza fast, hands shaking. Every Movement felt
[14:11] Speaker 1: ten seconds too slow. The oven timer beeped. I slid
[14:15] Speaker 1: the box across the counter. Didn't wait for him to
[14:17] Speaker 1: open it. He tapped his fingers once. Then left. Didn't
[14:22] Speaker 1: even take a napkin. I locked the door behind him
[14:25] Speaker 1: and flipped the sign to closed, even though it wasn't.
[14:29] Speaker 1: My chest was pounding. I looked at Marvin. He was
[14:32] Speaker 1: already back on his phone, probably texting his dealer or
[14:35] Speaker 1: his girlfriend. Or both. I told myself it was over.
[14:39] Speaker 1: Just a weird customer. Just another night. But my fingers
[14:43] Speaker 1: still hovered over that panic button for a long, long time.
[14:48] Speaker 1: It was 3.12am when the second door chime rang. Only
[14:52] Speaker 1: it wasn't the door. It was a thud. Flesh against glass.
[14:57] Speaker 1: Then another. A dull, heavy bang that made my stomach drop.
[15:01] Speaker 1: I turned and he was there. Face pressed against the
[15:04] Speaker 1: drive-thru window like a horror movie extra. His mouth was open,
[15:08] Speaker 1: lips moving, eyes wide and glassy. His forehead thumped the
[15:11] Speaker 1: glass once, twice. Then came the crack. A brick thrown hard,
[15:17] Speaker 1: shattering the drive-through pain. He screamed something I couldn't understand.
[15:22] Speaker 1: It wasn't words. Just sound, raw and angry. He slipped
[15:26] Speaker 1: on the wet tile as he climbed through the window,
[15:28] Speaker 1: his arms flailing. A chair tipped over. The salsa station
[15:33] Speaker 1: spilled onto the floor. I ran, slid behind the counter.
[15:37] Speaker 1: My knees hit the greasy tile, hard. I scrambled. For
[15:41] Speaker 1: the freezer key. My hands shook so bad I dropped
[15:43] Speaker 1: it twice. I heard the slap of his palms on
[15:46] Speaker 1: the floor behind me. Wet. Fast. His fingers brushed the
[15:51] Speaker 1: back of my apron. I slammed the freezer door. Locked it.
[15:56] Speaker 1: Pressed my back to it and slid down to the floor.
[15:59] Speaker 1: I could hear him breathing on the other side. Ragged. Uneven.
[16:03] Speaker 1: Then silence. Then giggling. Then silence again. My breath clouded
[16:07] Speaker 1: in front of me. I sat in that freezing dark
[16:10] Speaker 1: for what felt like hours, knees to my chest, still
[16:12] Speaker 1: in my stupid three layers of clothes. My phone was
[16:15] Speaker 1: in my locker. Marvin? Probably passed out again or ran.
[16:20] Speaker 1: I cried, but no sound came out. At some point
[16:24] Speaker 1: I passed out, too. The police came 27 minutes later,
[16:28] Speaker 1: long after he was gone. They found a few things.
[16:32] Speaker 1: A palm print in marinara on the freezer door. A
[16:36] Speaker 1: single baby shoe on the counter. old and dirty. My
[16:40] Speaker 1: name tag, torn from my shirt, lying in the sink.
[16:44] Speaker 1: I told them everything. They asked if I knew him.
[16:47] Speaker 1: I didn't. They asked if I'd let him in. I hadn't.
[16:50] Speaker 1: Then they left. Said they'd check nearby cameras. I never
[16:55] Speaker 1: heard back. Management reviewed the tapes and called it an incident.
[17:00] Speaker 1: They gave me a laminated pamphlet titled How to De-escalate
[17:04] Speaker 1: Difficult Customer Interactions. It had cartoon drawings. smiley stick figures
[17:10] Speaker 1: they cut my next week's shifts said the broken window
[17:13] Speaker 1: had to come out of somewhere when they played back
[17:15] Speaker 1: the footage we saw him outside hours before the encounter
[17:19] Speaker 1: watching me not just watching mouthing the lyrics to the
[17:23] Speaker 1: music playing inside as if he could hear it as
[17:27] Speaker 1: if we were sinking dancing in the grainy black and
[17:32] Speaker 1: white i saw his hands dip into his coat again
[17:35] Speaker 1: and again his pockets were full Something glinted. Inside. Sharp.
[17:42] Speaker 1: Nobody said it, but we all thought it. If I
[17:44] Speaker 1: hadn't made it to the freezer. I still work nights.
[17:47] Speaker 1: Not because I want to. Because I have to. Dad
[17:52] Speaker 1: still drinks. The loan sharks guy still checks in. We're
[17:56] Speaker 1: still broke. But now I keep a box cutter in
[18:00] Speaker 1: my apron. I've learned to smile less. Keep my answers short.
[18:06] Speaker 1: Watch for Mud on shoes and eyes that don't blink.
[18:10] Speaker 1: I check the drive-thru window every 20 minutes. Marvin calls
[18:13] Speaker 1: me paranoid. Maybe I am. Last week a regular customer
[18:19] Speaker 1: came in. Quiet guy. Always tips exact change. He handed
[18:24] Speaker 1: me a folded newspaper clipping before leaving. Thought you'd want
[18:28] Speaker 1: to see this, he said. It was an article about
[18:30] Speaker 1: a missing girl from Passig. The grainy photo showed her
[18:33] Speaker 1: in a Pizza Hut uniform. Same round cheeks. Same dark eyes.
[18:37] Speaker 1: The caption read, Last seen entering a pizza hut. The
[18:42] Speaker 1: picture could have been me. Maybe one day it will be.
[18:46] Speaker 1: Now when the door chimes, I grip my cutter tight.
[18:49] Speaker 1: When I close the freezer, I count to three. When
[18:52] Speaker 1: I mop the floor, I check behind every counter. Because
[18:55] Speaker 1: I know no one will protect me. Minimum wage buys silence,
[18:59] Speaker 1: not safety. And some nights, I swear I hear humming
[19:03] Speaker 1: behind the freezer door. the same tune from the night
[19:06] Speaker 1: he crawled in, the same song we both mouthed along to,
[19:11] Speaker 1: even though I never taught him the words. I used
[19:19] Speaker 1: to dream of wearing a white coat, of being an engineer.
[19:23] Speaker 1: I spent my whole life preparing for it, top of
[19:26] Speaker 1: my class always the first to raise my hand, eager
[19:29] Speaker 1: to solve problems. My father, he was proud of me,
[19:34] Speaker 1: Told everyone I'd make it big. That was before the stroke.
[19:38] Speaker 1: Before the hospital bills. Before the P-80,000 debt to loan
[19:41] Speaker 1: sharks that hangs over us like a storm cloud. Now
[19:44] Speaker 1: I'm just a delivery boy. At night I haul pizza
[19:47] Speaker 1: on my beat-up scooter to neighborhoods I'd rather avoid. during
[19:50] Speaker 1: the day i work at a funeral parlor because frankly
[19:53] Speaker 1: dead bodies pay better than pepperoni i work 16 hour
[19:57] Speaker 1: shifts split between the two jobs barely enough to cover
[20:01] Speaker 1: the bills much less the debts tonight's delivery is supposed
[20:05] Speaker 1: to be a blessing a big one a vip customer
[20:08] Speaker 1: The kind of customer who tips in crisp 500 bills.
[20:12] Speaker 1: The kind you don't refuse. This might be my chance
[20:15] Speaker 1: to finally get ahead, to pay down some of the debt,
[20:18] Speaker 1: and maybe buy my father some new medicine. He's been
[20:21] Speaker 1: getting worse. Doctor's been saying it's only a matter of time,
[20:25] Speaker 1: but I don't want to think about that right now.
[20:27] Speaker 1: I slip my helmet on and check my thermal pizza
[20:30] Speaker 1: bag one last time. The rain's been coming down hard
[20:33] Speaker 1: all night, but it's nothing new. I push my scooter
[20:37] Speaker 1: out into the streets. feeling the familiar vibrations of the
[20:40] Speaker 1: engine between my legs. It's not much, but it's what
[20:43] Speaker 1: I have. The streets are slick from the midnight rain
[20:46] Speaker 1: and the air smells like garbage and wet asphalt. The
[20:49] Speaker 1: neon signs flicker, throwing harsh shadows on the sidewalk. Tondo's
[20:54] Speaker 1: alive at this hour, jeepneys blaring, their horns, drunk men
[20:59] Speaker 1: stumbling home and alley cats fighting over scraps of food.
[21:03] Speaker 1: As I drive deeper into the neighborhood, I slow down
[21:06] Speaker 1: near Barangay 143 It's a narrow, dimly lit street lined
[21:11] Speaker 1: with small houses, some of which are falling apart. I
[21:14] Speaker 1: don't recognize the address on my phone, but the app
[21:17] Speaker 1: says it's the right one. Just as I pull up,
[21:19] Speaker 1: two men step out from the shadows holding flashlights that
[21:22] Speaker 1: blind me. Delivery boy, pull over, one of them says,
[21:26] Speaker 1: his voice deep and harsh. I'm immediately on edge. Real
[21:31] Speaker 1: cops don't wear ill-fitting police uniforms that look brand new,
[21:35] Speaker 1: like they're from a cheap mall store. They don't have
[21:37] Speaker 1: badges that gleam too brightly under the streetlights. And real
[21:41] Speaker 1: cops certainly don't smell like datuputi and gun oil. But
[21:46] Speaker 1: these men, they do. They smile too wide. Smile like
[21:51] Speaker 1: they already know I'm afraid. I stop my scooter and
[21:54] Speaker 1: cut the engine. Routine inspection, the other one says. I
[21:59] Speaker 1: swallow hard, trying to keep my breathing steady. These men
[22:03] Speaker 1: don't look like they're here to check my delivery. They
[22:07] Speaker 1: look like trouble. I take a deep breath, readying myself
[22:11] Speaker 1: for whatever comes next. One of the men walks up
[22:14] Speaker 1: to me, his baton tapping rhythmically against his palm. I
[22:18] Speaker 1: don't trust the way he's eyeing my thermal pizza bag,
[22:21] Speaker 1: so I tighten my grip on the handlebar. Let's see
[22:23] Speaker 1: what you're carrying, the man with the baton says, his
[22:26] Speaker 1: tone too casual for my liking. I try to stay calm,
[22:30] Speaker 1: not to give anything away. I know the law, or
[22:34] Speaker 1: at least I think I do. This doesn't feel right.
[22:38] Speaker 1: But I open the bag anyway just to show them
[22:40] Speaker 1: it's nothing but a pizza. And that's when they find it.
[22:44] Speaker 1: A small bag of shabu buried deep in the bag
[22:47] Speaker 1: under the pizza box. It wasn't mine, of course. I
[22:50] Speaker 1: know it wasn't. But these guys, they don't care about
[22:52] Speaker 1: the truth. The first cop steps forward, presses a cold
[22:56] Speaker 1: barrel against my ribs. Prison or payment, he asks, his
[23:01] Speaker 1: breath hot and foul in my face. The second cop
[23:05] Speaker 1: opens my refrigerated box. He grins when he sees it's empty,
[23:09] Speaker 1: but I know better. There's a sick feeling building up
[23:12] Speaker 1: in my stomach as he leans in closer, his voice
[23:14] Speaker 1: dripping with menace. Or maybe you take a nap inside.
[23:18] Speaker 1: The box reeks of death. It smells like spoiled milk,
[23:22] Speaker 1: like a dead dog I found in the alley last week.
[23:25] Speaker 1: But worse, so much worse. It smells like my father's
[23:28] Speaker 1: hospital room when the machines were turned off. It smells
[23:32] Speaker 1: like the end. I realize they've cornered me. This isn't
[23:36] Speaker 1: an inspection, it's a setup. My mind races, trying to
[23:40] Speaker 1: figure out an escape, but it feels like everything is
[23:42] Speaker 1: happening in slow motion. I don't know what happens next.
[23:47] Speaker 1: My body just reacts. I ram my helmet into the
[23:51] Speaker 1: first cop's nose, hearing the sickening crunch of cartilage breaking
[23:54] Speaker 1: under the force. He staggers back, blood splattering across the street.
[23:59] Speaker 1: Without thinking, I kick my scooter to life. The engine roars.
[24:03] Speaker 1: but it sounds distant, like it's coming from somewhere else.
[24:07] Speaker 1: The sound of my own heartbeat pounds in my ears
[24:10] Speaker 1: as I slam the throttle down, swerving past the cops
[24:13] Speaker 1: who are already pulling their guns out. Bullets crack the
[24:16] Speaker 1: air around me, but I don't look back. My hands
[24:19] Speaker 1: are shaking so bad I almost lose control of the scooter.
[24:23] Speaker 1: I drive like a madman, dodging potholes and puddles, the
[24:26] Speaker 1: streets blurring past me in a mess of neon lights
[24:28] Speaker 1: and shadows. The rain makes the roads even slicker, but
[24:32] Speaker 1: I don't slow down. My chest is tight, my breath
[24:36] Speaker 1: coming out in short bursts. I keep my eyes locked
[24:40] Speaker 1: straight ahead. I don't stop until I hit the Pasig River.
[24:44] Speaker 1: My scooter sputters, and I finally pull over to the edge,
[24:47] Speaker 1: vomiting into the polluted water. It's a violent, shaking release
[24:50] Speaker 1: of everything I've been holding inside, but I don't have
[24:53] Speaker 1: time to be sick. I need to keep moving. I
[24:56] Speaker 1: know that if I stop now, if I let myself breathe,
[25:00] Speaker 1: it'll all come crashing down. I don't go back to
[25:04] Speaker 1: the restaurant. I don't call my manager. I don't know
[25:08] Speaker 1: what I would even say. How do you explain something
[25:11] Speaker 1: like this? The next day, my manager finds me pew
[25:14] Speaker 1: thousand dollars for the lost pizza and the damaged uniform.
[25:18] Speaker 1: He says I should have handled it better. What are you,
[25:21] Speaker 1: a rookie? He snaps like I wasn't just trying to survive.
[25:25] Speaker 1: But then I find out something worse. The VIP order
[25:28] Speaker 1: that I delivered was placed from a burner phone, registered
[25:31] Speaker 1: to a known drug den. The cops had set me
[25:34] Speaker 1: up from the beginning. They wanted me to take the
[25:36] Speaker 1: fall for something worse. Now, every time my phone pings
[25:40] Speaker 1: with a new delivery, request. My hands shake so bad
[25:44] Speaker 1: I drop my keys. I can't help it. The fear's
[25:48] Speaker 1: in my bones now. I can't forget their faces. I
[25:52] Speaker 1: can't forget the cold barrel against my ribs. The worst part?
[25:57] Speaker 1: My father's medicine is running out tomorrow and the loan sharks?
[26:01] Speaker 1: They're texting me, sending pictures of my little sister's school uniform.
[26:05] Speaker 1: The threats are getting real and I know I don't
[26:07] Speaker 1: have much time. But what choice do I have? I
[26:11] Speaker 1: tighten the straps on my helmet. I tell myself that
[26:14] Speaker 1: I'll just keep going, keep delivering, because if I stop,
[26:17] Speaker 1: if I quit, everything will fall apart. My father will die.
[26:22] Speaker 1: My sister will be sold to some karaoke bar. And
[26:25] Speaker 1: I'll end up just another faceless body at my second job.
[26:29] Speaker 1: The app pings again. Another VIP order. I press accept.
[26:34] Speaker 1: Minimum wage doesn't just pay in pesos. It pays in
[26:38] Speaker 1: the weight of a cold gun barrel pressed against your ribs.
[26:42] Speaker 1: It pays in the smell of fear sweat that clings
[26:44] Speaker 1: to the seat of your scooter long after the delivery
[26:47] Speaker 1: is done. But worst of all, it pays in the
[26:50] Speaker 1: knowledge that no one will miss a delivery boy. And
[26:53] Speaker 1: I know that all too well. It wasn't supposed to
[27:01] Speaker 1: be like this. When I signed up to be a
[27:04] Speaker 1: delivery driver for Pizza Hut in Blackwood Creek, I didn't
[27:07] Speaker 1: think I'd be stuck working late night shifts in the
[27:10] Speaker 1: worst parts of town, driving a car that barely ran,
[27:13] Speaker 1: and living paycheck to paycheck. I always thought I'd be
[27:16] Speaker 1: more than this, someone who had a nice place, a
[27:19] Speaker 1: reliable car, and a future that didn't feel like it
[27:21] Speaker 1: was always one bad break away from falling apart. But
[27:25] Speaker 1: here I am, at 26, scraping by. My ex-boyfriend, Jason, left.
[27:31] Speaker 1: Me with nothing but unpaid bills, a busted car, and
[27:34] Speaker 1: a bruised ego. I'm two months behind on rent and
[27:37] Speaker 1: my phone's full of overdue notices I can't afford to
[27:40] Speaker 1: deal with. Every day is a fight to make it
[27:42] Speaker 1: through the next. But you don't get to be picky
[27:45] Speaker 1: when you're broke. I take what I can get, even
[27:48] Speaker 1: if it means working in a town like Blackwood Creek.
[27:52] Speaker 1: Blackwood Creek isn't the kind of place that shows up
[27:54] Speaker 1: on postcards. It's the kind of town where people lock
[27:57] Speaker 1: their doors before sunset, and everyone knows to avoid the
[28:01] Speaker 1: areas with bad streetlights and even worse reputations. I can't
[28:05] Speaker 1: afford to be choosy about where I go, though. Every
[28:08] Speaker 1: tip counts. Every pizza delivered means I'll be able to
[28:11] Speaker 1: afford gas for tomorrow, or maybe even pay part of
[28:14] Speaker 1: that overdue bill. It was a Wednesday night, and it
[28:18] Speaker 1: was already shaping, up to be one of those rough shifts.
[28:22] Speaker 1: My manager, Dave, had been on me all evening about
[28:24] Speaker 1: how slow I was, but it wasn't my fault that
[28:27] Speaker 1: half the deliveries were to sketchy neighborhoods where GPS barely worked.
[28:32] Speaker 1: The rain started coming down an hour ago, turning the
[28:35] Speaker 1: streets into a mess of slick wet traps. And now,
[28:38] Speaker 1: I was on my last delivery, one I was hoping
[28:41] Speaker 1: would be quick. The address was for a house on
[28:44] Speaker 1: Willow Lane. The house looked like it had seen better days,
[28:48] Speaker 1: but it was isolated and quiet. I'd been to worse places,
[28:52] Speaker 1: but this one gave me the chills. I should have
[28:55] Speaker 1: trusted my gut, but I just grabbed the pizza and
[28:57] Speaker 1: went for it. I pulled up to the end of
[28:59] Speaker 1: Willow Lane, the rain beating against my windshield, making it
[29:03] Speaker 1: hard to see. The only light in the area was
[29:05] Speaker 1: a single flickering porch light that barely illuminated the cracked pavement.
[29:10] Speaker 1: The house was tucked behind overgrown trees, almost hidden. It
[29:14] Speaker 1: had an eerie feel to it, like something out of
[29:16] Speaker 1: a bad horror movie. But I had a job to do.
[29:20] Speaker 1: I grabbed the pizza bag and my flashlight, stepping carefully
[29:23] Speaker 1: over the uneven pavement. My shoes splashed through puddles as
[29:27] Speaker 1: I made my way up to the porch. The rain
[29:29] Speaker 1: was soaking through my uniform and my heart was already
[29:33] Speaker 1: racing from the tension of being in a place like
[29:35] Speaker 1: this so late at night. As I knocked on the door,
[29:39] Speaker 1: I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The
[29:43] Speaker 1: door creaked open slowly. I blinked as my eyes adjusted
[29:46] Speaker 1: to the dim light and there, standing in front of me,
[29:49] Speaker 1: was a man, probably in his late forties, thin and gaunt,
[29:53] Speaker 1: his face pale under the flickering light. His eyes were dark, hollow,
[29:58] Speaker 1: and there was something unsettling about the way he stared
[30:01] Speaker 1: at me almost like he already knew me. Finally, he said,
[30:05] Speaker 1: his voice calm but unnervingly so, I've been waiting. I
[30:09] Speaker 1: forced a smile, trying to push down the unease in
[30:11] Speaker 1: my stomach. One large pepperoni extra cheese, that'll be 18.75.
[30:16] Speaker 1: But instead of taking the pizza, he just stared at me,
[30:20] Speaker 1: his lips curling into a strange smile. You know, I'm
[30:23] Speaker 1: actually the Archangel Michael. I froze. Was this some kind
[30:27] Speaker 1: of joke? I blinked a few times, unsure of how
[30:30] Speaker 1: to respond. Uh, sir? He didn't seem to notice my confusion.
[30:36] Speaker 1: His smile faded, and his eyes darkened. You don't... believe me.
[30:42] Speaker 1: That's when the atmosphere shifted. Something inside me told me
[30:45] Speaker 1: this wasn't just an awkward customer. Something was terribly wrong.
[30:50] Speaker 1: Before I could even process his words, his hand shot
[30:52] Speaker 1: out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me inside the house
[30:55] Speaker 1: with a terrifying force. The door slammed shut behind me
[30:59] Speaker 1: with a loud bang that echoed in my ears. I
[31:02] Speaker 1: tried to scream, but the air seemed thick, suffocating. The
[31:06] Speaker 1: pizza hit the floor with a soggy thud, but I
[31:08] Speaker 1: didn't care. My heart pounded in my chest as I
[31:10] Speaker 1: yanked my wrist, trying to free myself from his iron grip.
[31:14] Speaker 1: His eyes were wide now, wild, almost manic. You're one
[31:18] Speaker 1: of them, he hissed. One of the deceivers. I didn't
[31:23] Speaker 1: know what he meant by that, but it didn't matter.
[31:25] Speaker 1: I was in danger. I just work for Pizza Hut, man.
[31:29] Speaker 1: I tried to explain, desperation creeping into my voice. Please
[31:32] Speaker 1: let me go. I'm just doing my job. But his
[31:35] Speaker 1: grip didn't loosen. Instead, he pulled harder, twisting my arm painfully.
[31:40] Speaker 1: His breath was ragged, his words coming in quick, sharp bursts. No.
[31:45] Speaker 1: You're here to deceive me. You're working with them. I
[31:48] Speaker 1: kicked back, my heel connecting with his shin. It didn't
[31:52] Speaker 1: stop him, but it made him stagger for a second.
[31:55] Speaker 1: That's when I saw it. a lamp nearby. With every
[31:59] Speaker 1: ounce of strength I had, I grabbed the lamp and
[32:01] Speaker 1: swung it at him. It cracked against his head with
[32:03] Speaker 1: a sickening thud. He staggered back, his grip on my
[32:07] Speaker 1: wrist loosening just enough for me to wrench, free. I
[32:11] Speaker 1: didn't look back as I bolted for the door. My
[32:14] Speaker 1: legs were shaking, but I didn't stop running. I couldn't stop,
[32:17] Speaker 1: not when I could still hear him growling behind me,
[32:19] Speaker 1: his voice distorted with rage. I flew through the door,
[32:23] Speaker 1: almost tripping on the wet steps as I ran into
[32:25] Speaker 1: the rain-soaked yard. My car was still parked on the street, running.
[32:30] Speaker 1: Thank God. I rushed to the driver's side door, fumbling
[32:35] Speaker 1: with the keys as my breath came in panicked gasps.
[32:38] Speaker 1: Just as I slammed the door shut, I heard the
[32:40] Speaker 1: sound of pounding feet behind me. My heart dropped as
[32:43] Speaker 1: I glanced through the rearview mirror. Gary, his face twisted
[32:47] Speaker 1: in fury, was charging toward the car, his hands outstretched
[32:51] Speaker 1: like he was about to grab me. I shoved the
[32:54] Speaker 1: key into the ignition and hit the gas. tires screeching
[32:57] Speaker 1: as i pulled away from the curb the rain made
[33:00] Speaker 1: the streets even more treacherous but i didn't care i
[33:03] Speaker 1: had to get out of there my hands were shaking
[33:06] Speaker 1: so badly that i could barely grip the steering wheel
[33:09] Speaker 1: and every time i heard a noise from behind i
[33:11] Speaker 1: jumped i kept glancing at my rearview mirror half expecting
[33:15] Speaker 1: to see him chasing me down the road but nothing
[33:17] Speaker 1: was there he wasn't following me not physically anyway still
[33:22] Speaker 1: my mind raced what the hell had just happened Who
[33:25] Speaker 1: was that guy and what? Did he want from me?
[33:28] Speaker 1: I couldn't go back to that house, I knew that.
[33:31] Speaker 1: But what about the pizza, the job, the bills? Would
[33:33] Speaker 1: I ever be safe again? The police never found Gary
[33:36] Speaker 1: that night. By the time they arrived at the house,
[33:39] Speaker 1: it was empty. Just a half-crushed pizza on the floor
[33:42] Speaker 1: and a broken lamp. There were no signs of a
[33:45] Speaker 1: struggle and no sign of him. It was like he
[33:48] Speaker 1: had vanished. The next day, I quit Pizza Hut. I
[33:53] Speaker 1: didn't even... bother calling dave to explain there was no
[33:57] Speaker 1: point i wasn't going back there i wasn't going back
[33:59] Speaker 1: to blackwood creek but that night that whole experience it
[34:03] Speaker 1: haunted me in a town like blackwood creek danger was
[34:06] Speaker 1: never far away i knew it but it wasn't until
[34:10] Speaker 1: that night until gary's hands were around my neck that
[34:13] Speaker 1: i realized how close i'd been to not making it
[34:15] Speaker 1: out at all i walked away from that life but
[34:19] Speaker 1: i couldn't escape what had happened every knock on a
[34:22] Speaker 1: door every New delivery request reminded me of that moment,
[34:27] Speaker 1: of Gary, of the danger that was always lurking just
[34:30] Speaker 1: around the corner. And for the first time in a
[34:32] Speaker 1: long time, I was scared, but I couldn't stay scared forever.
[34:38] Speaker 1: So I started over. It was the only choice I
[34:43] Speaker 1: had left. I'd been working at the pizza hut in
[34:52] Speaker 1: Millfield for about a year. Not the worst job I'd
[34:55] Speaker 1: ever had, but sure as hell not the dream either.
[34:58] Speaker 1: Between late night grease traps, rude customers, and a Civic
[35:02] Speaker 1: that coughed louder than it drove, my nights blended together
[35:05] Speaker 1: into one long chain of lukewarm deliveries and forced smiles.
[35:10] Speaker 1: Three months back, my girlfriend Lisa walked out. Said I
[35:14] Speaker 1: was stuck, stuck in town, stuck in life, stuck in
[35:16] Speaker 1: my own damn head. She wasn't wrong. After she left,
[35:20] Speaker 1: the rent started piling up. My Honda started rattling like
[35:24] Speaker 1: a junkyard orchestra, and my landlord started taping notes to
[35:27] Speaker 1: my door that said final notice in bold red ink.
[35:31] Speaker 1: So yeah, I was saying yes to every shift they offered.
[35:34] Speaker 1: Sunday doubles, Friday night chaos, even the weekday graveyard runs
[35:38] Speaker 1: through the sticks. Anything to buy another week under my roof.
[35:42] Speaker 1: The pizza hut in Millfield didn't exactly see a rush
[35:44] Speaker 1: past 9 p.m., but we stayed open till 11 anyway,
[35:48] Speaker 1: mostly to cater to drunk college kids and midnight munchies.
[35:52] Speaker 1: That night, October 23rd, I was two hours into my shift,
[35:57] Speaker 1: the kind where the air smells like burnt cheese and
[36:00] Speaker 1: the oven hum gets in your bones. It was pouring.
[36:03] Speaker 1: Rain coming down like buckets were being dumped from the sky,
[36:06] Speaker 1: the kind of rain that makes your shoes squish the
[36:08] Speaker 1: second you step outside. I was leaning on the counter,
[36:12] Speaker 1: watching my manager Dave clean under his nails with a
[36:14] Speaker 1: pen cap when the order came in. It beeped on
[36:18] Speaker 1: the system and printed out on that greasy, curling receipt paper,
[36:21] Speaker 1: I grabbed it out of habit. One large cheese pizza.
[36:25] Speaker 1: Nothing weird about that. But then I read the second line.
[36:29] Speaker 1: Plus two LBS raw ground beef. Packaged separately. I squinted. Dave, uh,
[36:36] Speaker 1: you seeing this? He glanced over, already annoyed. Yeah, that's
[36:41] Speaker 1: the one that guy called in about. Raw beef? Like, uncooked? Yep.
[36:47] Speaker 1: Said he'd tip well. Paid over the phone. I looked
[36:50] Speaker 1: at the ticket again, feeling a knot in my stomach.
[36:53] Speaker 1: Something about it felt off. Dave tossed me the cooler
[36:58] Speaker 1: bag we usually used for wings and said, put it
[37:01] Speaker 1: in there. Beef's in the walk-in. I hesitated before heading
[37:04] Speaker 1: to the back. The raw meat was wrapped tight in
[37:07] Speaker 1: butcher paper, cold to the touch. It wasn't from us.
[37:11] Speaker 1: We didn't carry ground beef like that. This was personal
[37:15] Speaker 1: stash stuff pulled from the fridge like it had been waiting.
[37:18] Speaker 1: I packed it up grabbed the pizza and headed out.
[37:21] Speaker 1: The address was Old Mill Road. That should have been
[37:24] Speaker 1: my second red flag. Nobody decent lived out that way,
[37:28] Speaker 1: just broken fences and houses that looked like they lost
[37:31] Speaker 1: fights with time. The Civic wheezed as I eased it
[37:34] Speaker 1: down gravel roads that turned to dirt. GPS flickered on
[37:38] Speaker 1: and off like it was second-guessing itself. After about 20
[37:42] Speaker 1: minutes of careful driving through what might as well have
[37:44] Speaker 1: been a forest, I saw it. A sagging farmhouse tucked
[37:48] Speaker 1: behind some trees, its porch light buzzing like it, wanted
[37:52] Speaker 1: to die. No cars in sight. No sounds except the
[37:56] Speaker 1: rain and the occasional creak of branches overhead. I got out,
[38:00] Speaker 1: hoodie up, and jogged through the mud with the order
[38:03] Speaker 1: in hand. The second I hit the steps, the front
[38:07] Speaker 1: door creaked open. No knock. No bell. The man standing
[38:12] Speaker 1: there looked like your average uncle. Mid-forties, graying stubble, flannel shirt.
[38:17] Speaker 1: But his eyes locked on me too fast. His smile
[38:20] Speaker 1: stretched a second too long. You made good time, he said,
[38:24] Speaker 1: taking the pizza box. I held out the cooler. And
[38:28] Speaker 1: here's the, uh, special order. He took it with both
[38:33] Speaker 1: hands like it was sacred. Perfect, nothing like the taste
[38:36] Speaker 1: of fresh meat. I laughed nervously. For your dogs, or...
[38:41] Speaker 1: He looked me in the eye. Something like that. Behind
[38:45] Speaker 1: him a door creaked. A kid, small, pale, maybe six
[38:48] Speaker 1: or seven, peeked out. His eyes were huge, frightened. The
[38:52] Speaker 1: moment he saw me looking, he slipped back inside, fast.
[38:56] Speaker 1: My gut turned. Something was wrong here. Real wrong. The man,
[39:02] Speaker 1: Gregory Haskins, according to the receipt, hadn't stopped smiling. That
[39:08] Speaker 1: was my nephew, he said, like it explained everything. He's
[39:11] Speaker 1: a little shy. Right. Right. I said, forcing a nod.
[39:16] Speaker 1: The pizza and meat were already in his hands, but
[39:18] Speaker 1: I held out the receipt and pen. Need you to
[39:21] Speaker 1: sign for this. He scribbled something barely legible. Keep the change,
[39:25] Speaker 1: he said, handing it back. I didn't look at the amount.
[39:30] Speaker 1: My eyes were on that hallway door, half expecting the
[39:33] Speaker 1: kid to reappear. Appreciate it. I mumbled, turning away fast.
[39:38] Speaker 1: My feet squelched in the mud. The rain soaked through
[39:41] Speaker 1: my hoodie in seconds. I didn't care. I just wanted
[39:45] Speaker 1: to get back to the car. When I shut the
[39:47] Speaker 1: civics door, I didn't even start it. I just sat
[39:50] Speaker 1: there breathing hard, staring at the house. That kid's face
[39:53] Speaker 1: wouldn't leave my head. Those eyes weren't just scared, they
[39:56] Speaker 1: were pleading. I pulled out my phone. No bars. Of course.
[40:03] Speaker 1: I drove until the signal came back. The wipers barely
[40:06] Speaker 1: keeping up. Headlights bouncing off trees like ghosts. Finally, near
[40:10] Speaker 1: the county road, I pulled over and called 911. Dispatch,
[40:14] Speaker 1: what's your emergency? I, uh, this is gonna sound weird.
[40:18] Speaker 1: I just made a pizza delivery and something's not right.
[40:21] Speaker 1: I told them everything. The raw meat. The way the
[40:24] Speaker 1: guy talked about it. The kid who looked terrified. I
[40:28] Speaker 1: didn't mention the smile but I probably didn't need to.
[40:31] Speaker 1: My voice was shaking by the time I finished. The
[40:34] Speaker 1: dispatcher asked for the address and said they'd send someone
[40:37] Speaker 1: to check it out. She sounded polite but also tired
[40:40] Speaker 1: like she'd heard crazier. I hung up, heart still hammering.
[40:45] Speaker 1: Back at the store, Dave just raised an eyebrow when
[40:47] Speaker 1: I walked in soaking wet. Customer give you grief? Something
[40:52] Speaker 1: like that, I muttered. Tossing the receipt on the counter.
[40:56] Speaker 1: He didn't press. That night I couldn't sleep. I kept
[41:00] Speaker 1: seeing the kid's face. I didn't know if I'd done
[41:03] Speaker 1: the right thing or if I should have kicked that
[41:04] Speaker 1: damn door in. I didn't expect a call back. Most times,
[41:09] Speaker 1: 911 doesn't follow up unless something serious happens. But just
[41:14] Speaker 1: before midnight... My phone rang. Unknown. Number. I picked up fast.
[41:22] Speaker 1: This Jake Reynolds? Yeah. Who's this? Deputy Klein with the
[41:27] Speaker 1: Millfield Sheriff's Office. Following up on that call earlier. I
[41:31] Speaker 1: sat up in bed. Sheets twisted around my legs. You
[41:35] Speaker 1: checked the house? We did. Man named Gregory Haskins. Said
[41:41] Speaker 1: he ordered pizza and ground beef. Lives there with his nephew.
[41:45] Speaker 1: Kid's name is Tyler. Looked fine to me. My stomach dropped.
[41:50] Speaker 1: You talked to the kid. The deputy hesitated. We saw him.
[41:55] Speaker 1: Didn't say much. Like the man said, shy. I swallowed hard.
[42:01] Speaker 1: What about the meat? Guy said it was for his dogs.
[42:05] Speaker 1: Had two big shepherds in the back. We didn't see
[42:08] Speaker 1: anything illegal. Look, I get it. You got a bad feeling. Happens.
[42:13] Speaker 1: But we didn't find anything worth pursuing. So that's it,
[42:16] Speaker 1: I said, voice flat. That's it. He hung up before
[42:20] Speaker 1: I could argue. I stared at the ceiling, phone resting
[42:23] Speaker 1: on my chest. That house, that kid. I knew something
[42:28] Speaker 1: was wrong. But how do you prove a feeling? I
[42:32] Speaker 1: thought about driving back. About going to check myself. But
[42:38] Speaker 1: I didn't. The next night, I told Dave I wasn't
[42:41] Speaker 1: delivering to Old Mill Road anymore. He didn't ask why.
[42:46] Speaker 1: Weeks passed. The story faded like a dream. But the
[42:50] Speaker 1: memory didn't. It just got quieter. I kept seeing that look.
[42:56] Speaker 1: That wide-eyed fear. I knew I hadn't imagined it. Maybe
[43:00] Speaker 1: Gregory really did have dogs. Maybe the kid really was
[43:03] Speaker 1: just shy. But maybe, just maybe, he was hoping I'd
[43:07] Speaker 1: come back. And I didn't. Millfield rolled on like always.
[43:13] Speaker 1: Leaves turned. Frost crept in and people kept ordering pizza.
[43:17] Speaker 1: I took my shifts, paid my bills barely, and tried
[43:20] Speaker 1: to pretend I'd imagined the whole thing. But every time
[43:23] Speaker 1: I saw ground beef in the walk-in, my stomach turned.
[43:26] Speaker 1: Every time a kid smiled up at me during a delivery,
[43:29] Speaker 1: I saw those scared eyes instead. Never saw Gregory again.
[43:34] Speaker 1: Never heard another order from that house. Dave said he
[43:36] Speaker 1: stopped calling in altogether. Just one weird night, he figured.
[43:41] Speaker 1: Customers get spooked or lose interest. But I knew better.
[43:46] Speaker 1: Something happened out there. Something. I couldn't prove. I thought
[43:51] Speaker 1: about calling the sheriff again or child services. But I
[43:54] Speaker 1: didn't have a name. No photos. Nothing but a feeling.
[43:58] Speaker 1: A strong, gut-deep instinct. And that's not enough. Not for them.
[44:04] Speaker 1: One night I sat in my car outside the pizza hut.
[44:07] Speaker 1: Engine off. Listening to the rain drum on the roof again.
[44:11] Speaker 1: I scrolled. Threw old photos on my phone. Lisa, my civic,
[44:16] Speaker 1: a picture of a pizza shaped like a heart from
[44:18] Speaker 1: Valentine's Day. Then I stopped on a photo I didn't
[44:21] Speaker 1: remember taking. A blurry shot looked like it was taken
[44:24] Speaker 1: from my lap, probably an accidental press. But in the
[44:28] Speaker 1: far background, framed in the window of that sagging farmhouse,
[44:32] Speaker 1: was a face. Small. Pale. Watching. I stared at it
[44:39] Speaker 1: for a long time. Maybe I should have done more.
[44:44] Speaker 1: Maybe I still could. But I didn't. And that silence.
[44:49] Speaker 1: The choice to walk away. It sticks. It doesn't fade.
[44:53] Speaker 1: It sits with you. Late at night, I still wonder
[44:58] Speaker 1: what happened to that kid. I don't deliver pizzas anymore.
[45:02] Speaker 1: But I never deleted. That picture. Sometimes I pull it
[45:05] Speaker 1: up just to remind myself that once I saw something
[45:08] Speaker 1: real and turned away.

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