This is an archived voice message, seemingly received on the eve of the Cataclysm from a number saved as "Mandy."
The sound of ragged, unsuccessfully stifled breaths fills the recording, with hiccupped whimpers emitted at barely above a whisper as, in the background, a man's shouting cadence and a woman's pleading sobs are audible.
"Jonas," sniffs a teen girl's voice.
"I… I don't know what's happened, but dad's gone crazy.
He's tied Mom to the radiator for the last hour, and… oh God!
Jona, I think he's stripped her, and he's been turning on and off the radiator and sometimes I hear him crooning about how much he loves her, even as he's beating her and she's screaming.
I tried calling 911, but nobody's answering, and he's locked me in the basement, and I"
The girl's speech dissolves into sob-clogged gasps as the woman's voice escalates into a blood-curdling shriek, the scream growing sodden and gurgling as the liquid spray of gushing viscera grows to dominate it.
Heavy footfalls grow audible as the distant, gore-choked death rattle fades, replaced by the burble of viscous fluids and the girl's uneven breaths.
"Ooh, little Manatee," calls a man's sing-song voice as the muffled click of an opening door and the thump of bare feet on stairs register in the recording.
"Come on, sweety, it'll be easier if you just work with me."
For a few moments, all that can be heard are the girl's desperately muffled breaths and her father's searching footfalls.
The recording is suddenly filled with the girl's terrified shrieks and the swish of a struggling body being violently hauled across the floor, the sounds growing distorted as the phone tumbles to the ground.
Swiftly gagged, the daughter's weeping pleas are muffled, replaced by the retching of lungs clawing for air as the man's monstrously soothing voice filters through the recording.
"There, there, little manatee," he croons, the sound of fingers being comfortingly stroked through hair in contrast with the nauseous gurgling of a throat freshly choking on vomit.
"Don't fight it.
Go to sleep now.
Soon, you'll be happy with Mom.
There, there.
Go to sleep, darling.
I loved you.
I love you."
The last few minutes of the recording are occupied by silence before the father's voice returns.
He's weeping.
The sound of ragged, unsuccessfully stifled breaths fills the recording, with hiccupped whimpers emitted at barely above a whisper as, in the background, a man's shouting cadence and a woman's pleading sobs are audible.
"Jonas," sniffs a teen girl's voice.
"I… I don't know what's happened, but dad's gone crazy.
He's tied Mom to the radiator for the last hour, and… oh God!
Jona, I think he's stripped her, and he's been turning on and off the radiator and sometimes I hear him crooning about how much he loves her, even as he's beating her and she's screaming.
I tried calling 911, but nobody's answering, and he's locked me in the basement, and I"
The girl's speech dissolves into sob-clogged gasps as the woman's voice escalates into a blood-curdling shriek, the scream growing sodden and gurgling as the liquid spray of gushing viscera grows to dominate it.
Heavy footfalls grow audible as the distant, gore-choked death rattle fades, replaced by the burble of viscous fluids and the girl's uneven breaths.
"Ooh, little Manatee," calls a man's sing-song voice as the muffled click of an opening door and the thump of bare feet on stairs register in the recording.
"Come on, sweety, it'll be easier if you just work with me."
For a few moments, all that can be heard are the girl's desperately muffled breaths and her father's searching footfalls.
The recording is suddenly filled with the girl's terrified shrieks and the swish of a struggling body being violently hauled across the floor, the sounds growing distorted as the phone tumbles to the ground.
Swiftly gagged, the daughter's weeping pleas are muffled, replaced by the retching of lungs clawing for air as the man's monstrously soothing voice filters through the recording.
"There, there, little manatee," he croons, the sound of fingers being comfortingly stroked through hair in contrast with the nauseous gurgling of a throat freshly choking on vomit.
"Don't fight it.
Go to sleep now.
Soon, you'll be happy with Mom.
There, there.
Go to sleep, darling.
I loved you.
I love you."
The last few minutes of the recording are occupied by silence before the father's voice returns.
He's weeping.