The Missing Hours

The Man At The Door

The door handle moved again.

Clara’s heart pounded so loudly that she could barely hear anything else.

Evelyn tightened her grip on Clara’s arm.

“Don’t move.”

Clara stared at the door.

The handle stopped.

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then came a soft knock.

Not loud.

Not threatening.

Almost polite.

Clara glanced at her phone.

The last message was still glowing on the screen.

He’s there to make sure you never remember the truth.

She looked at Evelyn.

“Who is he?”

Evelyn shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

Before Evelyn could answer, a man’s voice came from behind the door.

“Clara?”

Clara froze.

She knew that voice.

Not clearly.

Not completely.

But somewhere deep inside her memory, she knew it.

The sound pulled at something buried inside her mind.

A hallway.

Rain against glass.

A man’s hand holding hers.

Her own voice whispering, Please don’t leave me.

Clara stepped backward.

“Who are you?”

The man outside didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said,

“You don’t remember me.”

Clara’s breathing became uneven.

“No.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Evelyn suddenly looked terrified.

“Clara, stay away from the door.”

But Clara couldn’t move.

The man’s voice came again.

“You need to leave this house.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not safe.”

Clara looked at Evelyn.

“Why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn’t.”

A pause.

“Not yet.”

The words confused her.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to remember.”

Evelyn stepped forward.

“Go away.”

The man’s voice became colder.

“You’ve kept her confused long enough.”

Evelyn’s face changed.

Clara noticed.

“What does he mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Evelyn.”

“Clara, listen to me.”

But Clara was no longer listening.

She reached for the door.

Evelyn grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t open it!”

Clara pulled away.

“Why are you so afraid of him?”

Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears.

“Because I know what happened that night.”

Clara went completely still.

“You said you didn’t.”

“I lied.”

The admission felt like a blow.

Clara stared at her friend.

“Why?”

“Because I was trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

Evelyn looked toward the door.

“From the truth.”

Before Clara could ask anything else, the man outside spoke again.

“She’s telling you now because she knows I have the evidence.”

Evelyn’s face went pale.

Clara slowly approached the door.

“What evidence?”

A small envelope appeared underneath it.

Clara stared at it.

“Take it.”

She bent down and picked it up.

Inside was a photograph.

Clara looked at it.

Her hands began shaking.

It was a photograph of her standing outside the party house.

The time stamp read 2:17 a.m.

She was not alone.

A man stood beside her.

Clara stared at his face.

She didn’t recognize him.

But she recognized his jacket.

She had seen it before.

In her memory.

In the darkness.

“Who is he?”

The man outside answered.

“That’s what you need to remember.”

Clara turned the photograph over.

There was writing on the back.

2:17 a.m. — She saw everything.

Her heart dropped.

“What happened at 2:17?”

Silence.

Then the man said,

“Someone died.”

Clara’s fingers went numb.

The room seemed to tilt.

A sudden memory struck her.

Music.

People laughing.

A glass falling.

A scream.

Then a body lying on the floor.

Clara covered her mouth.

“No.”

Evelyn rushed toward her.

“Clara!”

“I saw it.”

“What?”

“The body.”

Evelyn stared at her.

Clara’s eyes filled with tears.

“I saw someone on the floor.”

The man outside spoke again.

“And you weren’t supposed to remember that.”

Clara looked toward the door.

“Who died?”

There was a long silence.

Then the answer came.

“Daniel.”

Clara’s blood ran cold.

The name meant something.

Not just a name.

A person.

A face.

A memory.

She saw him laughing at the party.

Then arguing with someone.

Then walking away.

Clara suddenly remembered holding his arm.

Trying to stop him.

And someone standing behind them.

Someone she knew.

Her eyes widened.

“Evelyn.”

Evelyn couldn’t speak.

“You were there.”

Tears rolled down Evelyn’s cheeks.

“Yes.”

“You saw Daniel.”

“I did.”

“What happened to him?”

Evelyn looked away.

Clara stepped closer.

“What happened?”

Evelyn whispered,

“He was alive when I left.”

Clara stared at her.

“But you didn’t tell me that.”

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Evelyn looked toward the door.

“Afraid of the person who came after me.”

The man outside suddenly spoke.

“She’s not the one you should be afraid of.”

Clara’s heart raced.

“Then who?”

The answer came quietly.

“Look at the photograph again.”

Clara looked down.

She examined the photograph more carefully.

Behind her and Daniel stood another figure.

A shadow near the doorway.

Clara zoomed in on the image.

Her breath caught.

She knew that person.

She knew them very well.

And suddenly, the missing hours were no longer empty.

They were beginning to come back.