[ WP ] You keep getting packages addressed to the person who lived in your apartment before you . One day you open one .

The apartment was already a fairly haunted place. The previous owner, a lone man of 42, had committed suicide. It was tragic, but together with tragedy sometimes good things come forth. Though of course by no means would I consider the good to outweigh the bad in this case, but as a 21 year old student in dire need of an apartment the reduced rent was definitely worth the initial spook of living with the ghost of somebodies existence. Though what bothered me most was how nobody, no family, friends or anything even bothered to claim the apartment, clean it or anything. There was n't much, expect for some old, presumably old possessions. After cleaning out some of the less fit stuff I was left with a surprisingly neat and well cared after apartment with a completely functional bathroom, kitchen and bedroom. Really, it was more than I had expected and things were great... But well, there was that other haunting thing that kept coming back. Those damned letters. Every Thursday, at 7 PM exact, a package appeared in the inbox. There was never a sender or address on it besides the apartment that I resided in. 
 
 Yeah, you can imagine that being creepy as fuck, especially with the whole suicide thing still fresh in the air. At first I was just surprised, assuming it to be a friend, or perhaps family, possessions or anything really. I deemed it non of my business at first, simply storing the multitude of brown carton boxes in the corner of my bedroom. Maybe one day someone related to the man would pass by, and perhaps then I could get rid of the increasingly large amount of space consuming packages. But that never really happened, and soon I found myself compelled to open one of the damned things, a week or 4 later. Call me impatient, but honestly it seemed to be a pattern, and I found myself unable to resist taking at least a peek at one of the damn things. 
 
 I should not have done that. I should n't have put the CD labeled'12 October 2014' into my laptop, the date having been 16 October. I did n't know what to expect, but after having merely glanced through the album of pictures on it I found my stomach twisting, my dinner I had moments ago making way upwards as it registered in my mind. She must have been about 14 years old. Dirty, ragged clothes barely concealed her bare figure, an utterly broken look on her face of horror, fear at the monster that had taken the picture. Her eyes... They were hollow, dead. I could n't get myself to look at any of the other ones, could n't get myself to look at the frail, bare figure of the girl that infested the disc. There were videos as well, though as the thought of opening one of them entered my mind I shut the screen of my laptop down, opening the CD tray promptly after before staring at it in disbelief. 
 
 I now knew why he had committed suicide.
