The children in room 7

Chapter eight

THE PHOTOGRAPH

Avery stood completely still.

Claire was gone.

Again.

There had been no door opening. No footsteps. No warning.

One second, Claire had been standing beside her.

The next—

Nothing.

Avery looked toward the staircase.

“Claire?”

No answer.

She checked the kitchen.

Empty.

The hallway.

Empty.

The front door was still locked.

Avery's eyes returned to the photograph on the floor.

YOU WERE NEVER THE SEVENTH.

She picked it up.

The paper felt strangely warm.

She turned it over.

There was writing on the back.

COUNT THEM.

Avery frowned.

She looked at the seven children in the photograph.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Then she counted again.

Something was wrong.

There were seven children.

But only six shadows.

Avery's breathing became shallow.

She held the photograph closer.

The seventh child—the one with her back turned—had no shadow at all.

Instead, the shadow of an adult stood behind her.

Avery recognized the shape immediately.

A woman.

Long coat.

Shoulder-length hair.

Her mother.

Avery's fingers tightened around the photograph.

“Why?”

A faint sound came from upstairs.

Tap.

Avery froze.

Tap.

She looked toward the ceiling.

The sound came again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Something was hitting the floor above her.

Avery didn't want to go upstairs.

Every part of her told her to leave.

But Claire was missing.

And for the first time, Avery wondered whether Claire had disappeared…

or whether she had been taken somewhere she had already been before.

Avery climbed the stairs.

One step.

Then another.

The hallway upstairs was dark.

At the end of it was Claire's bedroom.

The door was open.

Avery stopped.

She remembered Claire's warning.

Don't go upstairs.

She stepped inside anyway.

The room looked exactly as she'd left it.

Except for one thing.

The wall.

A large section of it was covered with photographs.

Dozens of them.

Children.

Schools.

Cars.

Houses.

Dates.

Names.

Avery moved closer.

Some photographs were so old that the edges had turned yellow.

Others looked recent.

Far too recent.

She saw Daniel Mercer.

Sophie Bennett.

Lucas Reed.

Maya Hart.

And several names she didn't recognize.

Then she saw herself.

Not once.

Not twice.

There were photographs of Avery everywhere.

Avery at school.

Avery walking home.

Avery sitting at a café.

Avery sleeping.

She stepped backward.

Someone had been watching her.

For years.

Then she noticed something strange.

Every photograph of Avery had been taken from a distance.

Except one.

A photograph near the center of the wall showed Avery standing beside her mother.

Avery's heart stopped.

She had never seen the photograph before.

She was much younger in it.

Maybe four years old.

Evelyn was kneeling beside her, smiling.

But there was another person in the picture.

A girl.

Standing several feet behind them.

A girl Avery had never seen before.

Except—

She had.

Room 7.

The seventh chair.

The girl sitting in the darkness.

Avery slowly reached for the photograph.

Written underneath it were two dates.

OCTOBER 14, 2013

OCTOBER 14, 2026

Avery stared.

The second date was today's date.

Someone had written it recently.

Her eyes moved back to the photograph.

There was something in Evelyn's hand.

A small silver key.

Avery knew that key.

Number 7.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated.

A message appeared.

YOU FOUND THE WALL.

Avery stared at the screen.

Another message arrived.

NOW FIND THE MISSING PHOTOGRAPH.

She looked around.

“Which one?”

The reply came immediately.

THE ONE THAT SHOWS YOU BEFORE YOU WERE BORN.

Avery's blood ran cold.

She searched the wall.

Photograph after photograph.

Nothing.

Then she noticed an empty space.

A rectangular mark where a photograph had once been.

Beneath it was a name.

EVELYN COLLINS.

Avery touched the empty space.

Something was hidden behind it.

She pulled the loose section of wallpaper away.

A narrow compartment appeared.

Inside was a small black box.

There was no lock.

Avery opened it.

Inside was a single photograph.

She pulled it out.

At first, she couldn't understand what she was seeing.

It showed Brighton Hills School.

But the photograph had been taken from inside Room 7.

Seven children sat at their desks.

Evelyn stood at the front of the room.

And beside her stood Claire.

Avery stared at them.

Then she noticed the date.

OCTOBER 14, 2009.

Four years before the photograph of Avery and Evelyn.

Four years before Avery was supposed to have been born.

Her phone vibrated again.

One final message appeared.

NOW YOU KNOW WHY YOUR MOTHER DISAPPEARED.

Avery's hands shook.

She typed:

WHY?

The message was read.

But no reply came.

Then she heard something behind her.

A quiet voice.

Not from her phone.

Not from the hallway.

From inside the bedroom.

“Because she didn't disappear.”

Avery slowly turned.

The room was empty.

Then the voice whispered:

“She was looking for you.”

The bedroom door slammed shut.

And from the other side came seven small knocks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Avery stared at the door.

Seven knocks.

Seven children.

Seven desks.

Seven names.

But one thing still didn't make sense.

If Evelyn had been searching for Avery before Avery was born…

then who was the girl in the photograph?

The girl who looked exactly like her.

Avery looked down at the picture one last time.

And for the first time, she noticed the name written on the seventh desk.

It wasn't Avery.

It wasn't Evelyn.

It wasn't a name she had ever heard before.

It simply said:

LILAH.