Killer Cake Next Door / Chapter 8: The Lights Go Out
Killer Cake Next Door

Killer Cake Next Door

Author: Mary Schmidt

Chapter 8: The Lights Go Out

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Eight

I checked the peephole again. The dark red delivery bag was just sitting on the floor.

From the outside, you couldn’t tell what was inside.

Come to think of it, the delivery guy earlier also mentioned it was strawberry cake.

Could it be...

I didn’t open the door, but sent another message to Natalie to check.

[By the way, how did you know I ordered strawberry cake?]

This time, to clear my doubts, Natalie replied with a voice message.

[There’s a receipt stapled to the bag—it says strawberry cake!]

[Why not open the door and bring it over?]

[Are you really not going to share with me?]

[I always take care of you, don’t be stingy!]

It was definitely Natalie’s voice. That completely put my worries to rest.

As my old friend, she’d always looked out for me. If I kept doubting her over something so small, I’d just be hurting her feelings.

[Of course not, I’ll come over right now!]

After sending that message, I opened the door.

My apartment has a digital lock. The beep when it unlocked turned the hallway lights back on.

The corridor was empty. The delivery guy was gone.

It was quiet outside, except for the electronic chime echoing in the hallway.

The dark red delivery bag sat between my door and 504.

Just as Natalie said, there was a receipt on the bag that clearly read "strawberry cake."

Maybe I was just being paranoid...

The AI’s countdown was down to just 15 seconds.

Seriously? Was I really going to die in 15 seconds?

Finding it a little funny, I bent down to pick up the food.

The bag was cold and sticky at the bottom, seeping through my sleeve. It was heavier than I expected—this must be one big cake.

Just as I was about to look up, the hallway snapped to black, the only sound my own shaky breathing and the blood pounding in my ears.

The countdown hit the final 5 seconds.

At that moment, the door to 504 suddenly swung open…

Someone—or something—stood in the dark, just out of reach of the emergency light.

My pulse thundered in my ears. For a second, I thought about running back inside and locking the door, but my curiosity got the better of me. The whole scene—the darkness, the silence, the weight of the cake bag—felt unreal, like the moment before a jump scare in an old slasher flick. I almost laughed at myself, standing there in fuzzy socks, clutching a cake like it was a shield.

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