chapter three
794 Words
The Third Knock
Avery stood at the bottom of the stairs.
She couldn't move.
The notebook was still in her hand, but she had forgotten about it.
All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing.
The house had gone completely silent again.
Then—
Knock.
Avery's eyes lifted toward the ceiling.
The sound had come from upstairs.
She looked at the open front door.
For one brief second, she considered running.
But Claire was somewhere in the house.
Or had been.
Avery tightened her grip around the notebook.
"Claire?"
Nothing.
She climbed the first step.
The old staircase creaked beneath her weight.
Second step.
Third.
She stopped.
A faint line of light appeared beneath one of the bedroom doors upstairs.
Claire's bedroom.
Avery stared at it.
She was certain Claire had turned off every light before leaving for work that morning.
Slowly, she climbed the remaining stairs.
The hallway was dark except for the thin strip of light beneath the door.
She reached for the handle.
Stopped.
Something was wrong.
The bedroom door was locked.
"Aunt Claire?"
Silence.
Avery tried the handle again.
Locked.
She stepped backward.
Then she noticed something on the floor.
A photograph.
Avery crouched and picked it up.
It was the same photograph from the kitchen.
The seven children.
But this time, someone had drawn a black circle around one child.
The girl who looked like Avery.
On the back, there was a sentence.
SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER.
Avery's stomach twisted.
Remember what?
She looked toward Claire's bedroom.
Then she heard something.
A faint scratching sound.
From inside.
Avery's heart began racing.
She pressed her ear against the door.
Scratch.
Pause.
Scratch.
Something was moving inside.
"Claire?"
No answer.
Avery tried the handle one more time.
This time, it turned.
The door opened.
The room was empty.
The light was on.
Claire's bed was perfectly made.
Her wardrobe was closed.
Her curtains were moving gently even though the window was shut.
Avery stepped inside.
"Claire?"
Nothing.
Then she saw the desk.
Every drawer was open.
Papers covered the floor.
Photographs were scattered across the carpet.
And pinned to the wall was a large map.
Avery moved closer.
Red circles covered different parts of the city.
Beside each circle was a name.
A child.
A date.
A location.
She recognized several of them from the newspaper articles.
Her eyes moved down the list.
Then stopped.
One location had been circled more heavily than the others.
BRIGHTON HILLS SCHOOL.
Avery stared.
That was the school mentioned in the old article.
The school where seven children had disappeared.
Her phone vibrated.
She nearly dropped it.
Unknown number.
One message.
ROOM 7 IS STILL THERE.
Avery looked at the map again.
There was an address beneath the school name.
She quickly took a photograph.
Then she noticed something underneath the map.
A small envelope.
Not silver.
Brown.
Avery picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
AVERY COLLINS.
She opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Five words.
YOUR MOTHER LEFT YOU SOMETHING.
Avery stared at the sentence.
Her mother.
Evelyn.
The woman Claire had just admitted might still be alive.
Avery turned the paper over.
Nothing.
Then something fell from the envelope.
A key.
Small.
Old.
A metal tag hung from it.
7.
Avery's fingers went numb.
She looked toward the bedroom door.
It was still open.
But the hallway outside was no longer empty.
Someone was standing at the far end.
Avery froze.
A tall figure.
Completely still.
She couldn't see the face.
"Aunt Claire?"
The figure didn't answer.
Avery took one step backward.
The figure took one step forward.
Avery's pulse hammered.
"Who are you?"
Nothing.
Another step.
Avery backed toward the desk.
Then the bedroom light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The figure disappeared.
Avery rushed into the hallway.
Nothing.
No one.
She ran downstairs.
The front door was still open.
Claire's keys were still on the floor.
But something else had changed.
The silver envelope from the kitchen was gone.
Avery stopped.
She searched the table.
Nothing.
The photograph was gone too.
She looked down at the key in her palm.
The number 7 stared back at her.
Her phone vibrated one more time.
This time, there was no message.
There was a photograph.
Avery opened it.
Her blood ran cold.
It was a picture of Claire.
Standing outside an old brick building.
And beside her stood a woman Avery had never met.
Except she had.
She was looking at her own face.
The woman was Evelyn Collins.
Avery's mother.
And beneath the photograph was a timestamp.
TAKEN TEN MINUTES AGO.
Avery looked at the clock.
6:31 p.m.
Her mother was alive.
And somehow, someone had just photographed her.
Ten minutes ago.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD