Something’s Off About The Radio In My New Car, And I Need To Tell Someone Before It’s Too Late

Pietro De Grandi

“I assure you that this car will run smoother than anything you have ever driven before,” the salesman Duke said in a smooth voice.

Hell, I was already sold on the car but the assurance in his voice made me feel completely comfortable with spending eight grand on a 2013 Honda Accord. Normally, I wouldn’t buy a car posted on a Facebook buy/sell page, but the deal was just too good to pass up. I know, it may not seem like that great of a deal, but the fact that it only had 45,000 miles on it made it seem just that much more dependable for me.

After handing him the cash, getting the title switched over to my name, and equipping it with a new set of speakers, I had the time of my life driving the car wherever I could. It was the first car I bought that wasn’t over 10 years old and plagued with constant problems. The first few weeks, I didn’t have a single regret with my purchase. But of course, shit turned for the worst and I really don’t know what to do.

Around four days ago I was driving from Nashville, TN to the countryside of Clarksville, TN. It was around 10 at night, and I was never one to enjoy driving in the dark. To be honest, I have always been afraid of the dark, and just being outside by myself at night would make me a nervous wreck. Normally, I would plug my phone up to the aux and listen to my playlists, but the road I was driving on was far too bumpy for comfort so I just turned on the radio and listened to a man drone on about Johann Sebastian Bach’s unique take on music.

I was around three miles away from the house when the radio cut off for a second and a child’s voice filled my car with whimpers before saying, “Hello? Can you help me? I need help. I want to go ho-.”

The kid’s voice stopped and I heard the sound of muffled screaming. The screaming became completely silent and it was soon replaced with a strained male’s voice.

“You know I can’t do that, Greg. Just be a good little boy, and I will make sure you eat tonight. Ask me to let you out again, and I will have to give you another whipping.”

I could hear the soft sound of crying before the radio cut off. I tried turning it back on again, but the radio didn’t work anymore.

As soon as I got out of my car my mother ran out the front door and gave me a hug. After a few seconds, she pulled back and looked at me with a concerned look on her face and asked if I was okay. I didn’t want her to think I was crazy so I just told her I was tired. I spent the next two days at her house. I drove as little as I possibly could during that time, but the time came when I had to go back to work in Nashville. I tried to leave earlier in the afternoon, but my mother insisted on having dinner with me before leaving. I didn’t have the heart to decline. After my father died four years ago my mother was just never the same.

Around eight I packed my small bag, gave my mother a hug, and started to drive back to my house. Curious, I tried turning my radio on again, but it was still broken. After reminding myself to give Duke a call about the radio, I turned my phone on and listened to some music on the phone for almost the entire drive back.

As soon as I hit Nashville my phone died and the radio turned on. I almost crashed my car because the radio was turned up all the way. After lowering the radio to a reasonable volume, I changed the station to my favorite channel and became frustrated when the radio became silent again. I tried turning the volume up, but all I could hear was a soft whisper. I turned the radio all the way up and waited. After driving for about eight minutes, the whispers became louder and I could hear a man talking.

“He wasn’t supposed to die so soon. No. No. Not yet. He needed to be the sacrifice. So pure. No. Perfect. No. No. No. Perfectly pure. He was what I needed. Please breathe. You can’t die yet. I will feed you. Anything you want. Don’t. Please.”

The radio cut off again after that.

I knew I wasn’t going crazy. I heard him talking on my radio. I knew the voice belonged to Duke after hearing his smooth voice for an hour before buying his car. When I got home, I immediately tried calling Duke. He answered on the third ring.

Duke: “Hey man. You liking the car so far?”

Me: “Actually, not really. The radio has been acting strangely. It’s not really working.”

Duke: ”Oh that sucks. Why not get a new radio? Just send me the receipt and I’ll go ahead and reimburse you for the charges”

Me: “Sounds good. You doing alright? You sound a bit stressed.”

Duke: ”That’s none of your fucking business. Send me a picture of the receipt and I’ll give you back the money. Let’s not waste our time on meaningless small talk.”

He hung up and I immediately dialed 911.

That night, I fell asleep watching the news. I woke up yesterday morning and saw Duke’s face on the tv. He was arrested for the murder of a 12-year-old boy named Gregory. They found various pages ripped out of a notebook stapled to the wall. Each page was filled with the same thing written over and over again.

“I finally had enough money for the materials but he died. Just one more day, and I would have my Mary back. He was the last piece I needed.”

After watching the news for about an hour, I got out of bed and drove around downtown Nashville. It was a beautiful day, and I didn’t want to waste it lying on my bed all day. I drove for about four hours and decided to go back home. As I pulled into my driveway, the radio turned on and I quietly listened.

“I know you like my little monthly visits. You know the only thing you gave me that was worth anything is my son. You were always a lazy piece of shit, and you had it coming. Wait, no. You also gave me the satisfaction of watching blood drip down your chest. I was lucky you were already diagnosed with depression. I just had to find a way to make it seem like a suicide.”

The radio cut off and I was sitting in my seat with the hardest decision I have ever made. The voice was a voice that I knew my whole life, and the last thing I wanted was to call the cops on my mother. I tried to sleep last night, but I just couldn’t. I am still trying to make my mind up on two things.

Should I call the cops on my mother?

Should I get rid of the car? Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Ha-Yong Bak is an editor for a conference organizing company, an author, and a person that likes to get demolished at basketball.

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