— Ma’am… your son is no longer with us. He died from a severe infection. His body will be delivered in a sealed zinc coffin. Please — under no circumstances open it. Accept our condolences.

Maria didn’t answer. The phone slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.

The next day, a military truck pulled into her yard. Two soldiers carried a heavy, metallic coffin with a sign on it: “Do not open.” It was cold to the touch, lifeless — like the world around her.

At the funeral, Maria stood like a ghost, barely breathing. Neighbors held her arms, whispering prayers, but she heard nothing.
— They’re lying, — she murmured. — My son was healthy. He called me just three days ago. He was laughing. He said everything was fine.
— Maria, please, — begged her neighbor. — They said it was an infection… dangerous, contagious. You mustn’t open it.
— Contagious? — Maria’s voice cracked. — He never mentioned being sick. No… they’re hiding something. I can feel it.

That night, after everyone left, Maria stared at the coffin under the dim light of a single lamp. Her mind screamed, Open it. You have to know.

She approached it, trembling. Her hands found the latch and broke the seal.
The lid creaked open — and then came the scream that echoed through the entire village.

Inside lay something unrecognizable. The face was mutilated beyond belief, the skin pale and stiff like wax, and the chest crudely stitched together — as if someone had tried to hide what was inside.
Maria fell to her knees.
— That’s not him, — she whispered. — That’s not my son.

The Secret Behind the Coffin

Days passed in a blur. Maria refused to eat, to sleep, to live. But her mind refused to rest. She began to investigate.
Everywhere she turned, doors closed in her face.
— All information is classified, — they told her. — The cause of death: infection.

But Maria had seen too much. The body, the scars, the cold lies — none of it made sense.

A month later, a man in civilian clothes appeared at her door. His eyes darted around nervously.
— You don’t know me, — he said quietly, — but I served with your son.
He paused, swallowed hard, and continued:
— He didn’t die of an infection. They used him in an experiment. They tested a new military drug — something that was supposed to increase endurance. It killed them. Your son tried to stop it. That’s why they silenced him.

Maria froze. Her worst fears had just turned into reality.

The Fight for Truth

She started writing letters — to the Ministry, to journalists, to anyone who would listen. No one responded.
Every answer she got sounded the same: “Case closed. Cause of death confirmed.”

Her neighbors whispered that she’d lost her mind. But Maria couldn’t let go. Something deep inside told her that her son was still calling out for justice.

Then one night, her phone rang again.
— They’re watching me, — whispered the same man who had visited her. — If anything happens to me… you’ll know why.
Three days later, he was found dead in his apartment. “Heart attack,” said the report. But Maria knew — they were covering their tracks.

The Final Revelation

A year passed. Maria lived alone in silence until one morning she found a small package on her doorstep. No name, no return address. Inside — a flash drive and a short note:
“He told the truth. Watch, but be careful.”

The video showed a laboratory. Men in uniforms. Young soldiers tied to tables. And then — Ilya. Her son.
He was screaming, begging them to stop. Electrodes covered his body. His heart monitor spiked — and then flatlined.

Maria screamed. She ran to the authorities with the video, shouting before the cameras:
— Here! Look what they did to my son! Let the world see!

The footage went viral. Millions watched it. People demanded answers.
But soon, the video disappeared. Accounts were deleted. Maria was summoned “for questioning.”
After that day, no one saw her again.

The Epilogue

A week later, another zinc coffin appeared in the same town. No name. No documents.
Witnesses swore they’d seen a military truck parked outside Maria’s house that night.

When the coffin was opened, it was empty.
Only a few words were scratched onto the wall of her room:

“They don’t let us rest. Protect your children.”