I rented the apartment of the Johnson Murder-Suicide

Of course, I knew the story. Abusive father, daughter ran away, and father killed his wife and then himself. I heard all of it. The thing was, I needed a place to stay and this place was cheap, very cheap. I get that people don?t want to live in an apartment where something like that happened. However, I never believed any of the paranormal crap, plus location was fine, so I moved in only one week after it happened. Owners asked if I wanted to keep some of the furniture and were horrified when I said yes. Okay, it was a tragedy, but I will not throw out perfectly good wardrobe and coffee table just because they belonged to dead people. I?m broke, not stupid.
The first night I started to doubt my doubts. I was reading a book in my new living room and I started to hear faint scratching. I just thought it was the rats and I returned to my book. Right now I couldn?t afford exterminators anyway, so why worry about it. I tried to tune it out, but it continued and annoyed the crap out of me. It was so faint, I barely heard it, but in silent apartment it drove me up the wall. I finally managed to tune it out, when suddenly, I heard it again and little louder. I could swear, it came out of the wardrobe. I slowly approached and opened it, only to see my clothes. I shook my head, amazed, that I am scared of rats and plumbing.
Over the next few days, it got worse. Second night, I heard quiet sobs. Next nights, I thought I heard muffled screams. More scratching every day. Everything was quiet and faint enough to make me crazy, not knowing if I actually hear it or I am imagining it. I started to seriously entertain the thought, that somebody was here. Maybe a spirit, that hasn?t crossed over yet. I told my friend about it and she suggested talking to it. If the spirit means well, it will move on. I was annoyed, but not that crazy yet. On night five of the constant scratching and quiet sobs, I decided to give it a try. I stood in my hallway and I said:
?Mrs. Johnson, please go into the light, don?t worry about your daughter, he cannot hurt her anymore.?
I chose to not wait for an answer on the off chance it would come. I decided to give it a couple of days, so I went to see my friend and ended up crashing on his couch. The next day, I came home, kind of expecting to see some message in blood on the wall or something. There was nothing. Ever since that day, no scratching, no noises at all. Everything stopped. I never knew if I only imagined all of it or if my ghost whispering worked. Two years later, I got my answer.
Finally, I was moving out of the apartment. I was moving in with my girlfriend and we were taking everything down to the truck. The movers asked if the wardrobe comes with us or we are leaving it to next renters. I didn?t want to leave it there, but I didn?t want to keep it. It was a long time ago, but the Johnson?s furniture still creeped me out a little bit. I decided to donate it to local shelter, so I told them to take it down to the truck and we will drop it off. The wall behind it was unbelievable dirty. I never moved the heavy furniture when cleaning. I like things clean, but I like having my back intact. Under the dust bunnies stuck to the wall there was a weird rectangular cutout. I shrugged it off, but my girl said to try to take it out.
?Maybe there is a safe behind it or something. Or pirate treasure!? ?Haha, very funny.?
I agreed to try to take it out. It took a lot of strength and lot of crowbar work. Finally, I got it down and noticed the wall was almost one foot thick. It looked like the extra layer was homemade, like extra insulation. When the dust settled we were welcomed by a horrible sight.
I understood immediately, there was never anything paranormal happening. I was right to be skeptical, but I really wished I wasn?t.
What we saw inside the wall, was a skeleton bound to the outer side of the wall. Above the head was a pipe that was slowly leaking drops of water on her head. That would explain how she managed to survive almost two weeks inside. It was gagged and only part of her, that could reach the inner wall were tips of her fingers.
Her fingers were worn out from scratching.
We were looking at the daughter, that everybody thought ran away.


Source.