My Neighbor Would Leave Thoughtful Packages at My Doorstep — When I Opened the Last One, I Knew I Had to Call the Police

THE HIDDEN MESSAGE IN THE GIFTS

It started with daisies.

A beautiful bouquet, wrapped in simple brown paper, sat on my doorstep one morning. I picked it up, confused but smiling, as I unfolded the little note attached.

*”Just a little something to brighten your day. –Sophie.”*

Sophie was my neighbor—cheerful, always kind. We weren’t close, but she always greeted me warmly whenever we crossed paths.

The next day, another surprise: a small tin of homemade cookies.

Then, a lavender-scented candle.

Each day brought something new. Each note was always the same:
*”Just because. –Sophie.”*

I started looking forward to them. In a way, her small gestures became a quiet comfort, a reminder that someone out there cared.

Then, on the sixth day, the final gift arrived.

A box of chocolates.

I smiled, shaking my head at her generosity as I opened it. Without thinking, I popped one into my mouth, savoring the rich sweetness. But as I reached for another, my fingers brushed against something beneath the last piece of chocolate.

A folded note.

I hesitated, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.

I unfolded it and read:

*”HELP ME.”*

A chill ran through me.

I didn’t waste a second—I grabbed the older notes from the previous gifts, spreading them out on the kitchen table. My hands trembled as I inspected them, reading them over and over.

And then, I **saw it.**

The first letter of each note.

J – U – S – T
B – E – C – A – U – S – E

They didn’t spell out a message on their own. But something told me there was **more** hidden within them. I flipped each note over, desperate for another clue. That’s when I noticed faint indentations on the paper—**like someone had written on them before, but erased it.**

With a pencil, I lightly shaded over the marks. Slowly, words began to form.

*”He watches. He listens. I’m not safe.”*

My breath hitched. My stomach turned.

Something was **terribly wrong.**

I grabbed my phone and dialed **911.**

“Sophie’s in danger,” I whispered into the receiver. “And I think she’s been trying to tell me all along.”