Chapter seven
1049 Words
SHE TOOK US
The upstairs door stood open.
Avery couldn't move.
For several seconds, neither she nor Claire spoke.
Then came the sound again.
A small, careful step.
Creek.
The old wooden floor upstairs complained beneath someone's weight.
Avery's eyes remained fixed on the staircase.
“Claire,” she whispered.
Claire grabbed her wrist.
“Don't go upstairs.”
Avery looked at her.
“You just told me to leave this house.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
Claire didn't answer.
Another step sounded above them.
Then a child's voice drifted down the staircase.
“Avery…”
Avery's stomach tightened.
It was the same voice she'd heard inside Room 7.
Claire's grip became tighter.
“Don't answer.”
“Avery…”
This time, the voice sounded closer.
Avery pulled her wrist free.
“You said she took them.”
Claire's face went pale.
“I never said that.”
“You heard it too.”
Claire stared at the staircase.
“I heard something.”
“Then who is upstairs?”
“I don't know.”
Avery almost laughed.
“You always say that.”
Claire looked at her sharply.
“What does that mean?”
“It means every time I ask you something, you suddenly don't know.”
Silence.
Then the voice came again.
“She took us.”
Avery looked at Claire.
“Who?”
Nothing.
“Who took you?” Avery called toward the stairs.
Claire's expression changed instantly.
“Avery, stop!”
But it was too late.
A sound came from upstairs.
Not footsteps.
A child's laugh.
Then another.
And another.
Soon, the hallway seemed filled with quiet laughter.
Avery took one step toward the stairs.
Claire stepped in front of her.
“No.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“You're hiding something.”
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
The words escaped Claire before she could stop them.
Avery froze.
Claire seemed to realize what she'd said.
“Alive?”
Claire looked away.
“What happened to my mother?”
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
“I don't.”
“Then why are you scared?”
Claire didn't answer.
Avery noticed something on the floor near the bottom of the stairs.
A small piece of paper.
She bent down and picked it up.
There was only one sentence written on it.
SHE DIDN'T TAKE US.
Avery's heart began pounding.
She turned the paper over.
Nothing.
Then another piece of paper slid slowly from beneath the staircase.
Avery picked it up.
WE FOLLOWED HER.
Her eyes widened.
“Claire…”
Claire looked at the paper.
The color drained from her face.
“What?”
“You said she took them.”
“I never said—”
“You did.”
Claire shook her head.
“No. I said your mother was investigating the disappearances.”
“But the voice said she took them.”
Claire stared at the staircase.
“That's why I wanted you away from this.”
Avery looked at her.
“From what?”
Claire whispered, “The children.”
The upstairs lights suddenly flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then every light in the house went out.
Avery gasped.
Claire reached for her.
“Stay beside me.”
Something moved upstairs.
Avery heard a soft dragging sound.
Then—
Knock.
From the second floor.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Claire whispered, “Don't answer.”
Avery's eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“I'm not going to.”
A fourth knock came.
But this time, it wasn't from upstairs.
It came from behind them.
Avery slowly turned.
The front door was closed.
Three words had been written across it in something dark.
ROOM 7 KNOWS.
Avery stared.
“What does that mean?”
Claire didn't respond.
Instead, she reached into her pocket.
She pulled out a small key.
Avery recognized it immediately.
The number 7 was engraved into the metal.
The same key she'd found in Claire's bedroom.
“You had another one,” Avery whispered.
Claire closed her fingers around it.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Claire looked directly into Avery's eyes.
“Because the first key doesn't open the room.”
Avery's breath caught.
“What does it open?”
Before Claire could answer, something slammed upstairs.
Avery flinched.
Then a voice spoke from the darkness.
This time, it wasn't a child's voice.
It was an adult woman's voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
Impossible.
“Avery?”
Avery stopped breathing.
Claire's eyes filled with fear.
Avery knew that voice.
She had heard it once before.
On the cassette.
Her mother's voice.
“Mum?”
Claire immediately shook her head.
“Don't.”
The voice came again.
“Avery, if you're hearing this…”
A pause.
“…Claire has already lied to you.”
Avery turned toward Claire.
Claire whispered, “That's not your mother.”
“But you recognize her.”
Claire said nothing.
The voice continued.
“Do not trust the photograph.”
Avery's mind raced.
“What photograph?”
“The seven children.”
Claire stepped backward.
The voice continued.
“Especially the seventh.”
Avery remembered the seventh chair.
The girl who looked almost exactly her age.
The girl who had stared at her as if she already knew her.
Then the voice said something that made Avery's entire body go cold.
“Because the seventh child isn't missing.”
Avery looked at Claire.
“Where is she?”
The house became completely silent.
Then, from directly behind Avery, a little girl whispered—
“She's here.”
Avery slowly turned around.
No one was there.
But on the floor was a photograph.
A new photograph.
Seven children stood outside Brighton Hills School.
Six were facing the camera.
The seventh had her back turned.
And written underneath her was one name:
AVERY.
Avery stared at it.
Then she noticed something else.
In the photograph, standing behind the seven children, was her mother.
But Evelyn wasn't looking at the camera.
She was looking directly at the seventh child.
And in her hand was the same silver envelope Avery had been carrying.
Except there was something written across the envelope in red ink.
Four words.
YOU WERE NEVER THE SEVENTH.
Avery looked up.
Claire was gone.
Again.
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