I Came Back to Make the Music Box Kill You

The piercing wail of an ambulance siren tore through the sky.

I stood at the orphanage entrance, watching as the paramedics lifted Raine, her body still convulsing, onto the stretcher.

The little girl’s pale lips kept moving, as if repeating something.

I leaned in to listen, and the blood in my veins turned to ice.

“The box is singing… the box is singing…”

Fleur appeared behind me. “Give me the music box.”

Her voice was soft but carried a pressure that left no room for refusal.

I turned around and saw her right hand hidden in her pocket, a faint glint of metal catching the light.

It was a folding knife.

“Why should I?” I deliberately raised my voice, drawing the attention of the staff nearby. “It’s mine.”

A shadow passed through Fleur’s eyes.

She had no choice but to withdraw her hand. “You’ve been acting strange lately.”

“Have I?” I gave the music box a small shake. “Maybe it’s just because the sound is so unique.”

Right in front of her, I flipped the lid open. The distorted “Für Elise” began to play again.

Fleur’s eyes widened sharply, her right hand instinctively moving toward the knife in her pocket.

But this time, nothing happened.

After Raine was sent to the hospital, I volunteered to go along.

Fleur tried to stop me, but one sentence from Alex froze her in place. “Miss Shaw understands the children best. She’s the most suitable one to go.”

On the way to the hospital, I secretly checked the music box.

The spring was loose.

That wasn’t right. I clearly remembered winding it three full turns that morning.

What caught my eye was a new scratch on the underside, as if it had been pried open.

“Miss Shaw, may I take a look at that music box?”

Alex suddenly lowered his voice.

I handed it over.

The moment his fingers touched the box, they began to tremble violently. “Twenty years ago… there was a music box just like this at the orphanage…”

“And then?” I held my breath.

“A girl named Yuki…” His voice caught. “After listening to it, she…”

The emergency room doors suddenly swung open.

A doctor stepped out. “The child is stable for now, but her EEG shows abnormalities, as if…”

My phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number: “Put the box back where it belongs. Otherwise, the director is next.”

I jerked my head up.

Through the hospital window, I saw Fleur standing across the street, smiling at me.

She lifted her phone slightly.

On the screen, a second message was being typed.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked, concern in his voice.

“Nothing.” I slipped the music box back into my bag. “Mr. Warren, could I take a look at the records from twenty years ago?”

His expression shifted, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. “Why the sudden interest?”

“I…”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Fleur crossing the street toward the hospital. I grasped for an excuse. “I want to write a paper on children’s mental health.”

In the records room, dust drifted through the sunlight.

Alex pulled out a yellowed folder labeled “2001 Incident Report.”

I opened it and my breathing stopped.

In the black-and-white photo, a young girl lay on the orphanage playground, her body twisted at an unnatural angle.

The headline read: “Ten-Year-Old Girl Dies in Mysterious Fall, Claimed ‘The Music Box Was Speaking’ Before Death.”

The date on the report was September 18, 2001.

Exactly twenty years had passed since that day.

“This girl was named Yuki Lane,” Alex said quietly. “She was such a well-behaved child…”

My eyes locked onto the last line of the report: “Case Officer: Michael Lane.”

He was Fleur’s father.

“This music box…”

Alex pointed to a blurry object in the corner of the photo. “It looks very similar to yours.”

Behind me, the sharp crash of a coffee cup shattering echoed through the room.

Fleur stood at the doorway, her face pale as paper.

“We should head back to school,” she said, her voice unnervingly calm.

As we stepped out of the orphanage, Fleur suddenly grabbed my wrist.

“Give me the box.”

Her nails dug into my skin, her eyes wild and unsteady.

“Why?” I met her gaze. “Is it that important to you?”

Fleur’s breathing grew uneven. “You don’t understand… it chooses people…”

Right then, the music box in my bag started playing on its own.

The eerie melody echoed through the empty parking lot.

Fleur’s expression twisted into panic. “That’s impossible… I already…”

She didn’t finish. A scream suddenly rang out from the second floor of the hospital.

Raine had woken up at some point. She was climbing onto the windowsill, her eyes hollow, repeating, “The box is singing… the box is singing…”

Fleur let out a shriek that didn’t sound human and bolted toward the hospital.

I stayed where I was, staring at the music box as it played by itself.

And then, something clicked into place.

This box had never truly been under Fleur’s control.