The children in room 7

Chapter five

The Seventh Chair

Avery couldn't move.

The seven children remained perfectly still.

Not one of them blinked.

Not one of them spoke.

They simply watched her.

Avery's phone flashlight trembled in her hand as she slowly moved it across their faces.

They looked different from one another.

A boy with messy blond hair.

A girl with two long braids.

A boy wearing an oversized school sweater.

A girl clutching a small stuffed rabbit.

Another boy with dark curls.

A pale girl sitting with her hands folded neatly on the desk.

And the seventh child—

Avery stopped.

The seventh child was a girl.

She looked about Avery's age.

And she looked familiar.

Not like Evelyn.

Not like anyone Avery had seen in the photograph.

Something about her expression made Avery's stomach twist.

"Who are you?"

The girl didn't answer.

Avery took a step forward.

Every child followed her movement with their eyes.

She looked toward the door.

It was still shut.

She grabbed the handle and pulled.

Nothing.

She pulled harder.

Nothing.

"Open!"

Her voice echoed around the room.

The children didn't react.

Then the girl with the stuffed rabbit slowly raised one hand.

Avery turned toward her.

The girl pointed beneath Avery's desk.

Avery frowned.

"There isn't a desk there."

The girl pointed again.

Avery looked down.

There was.

A desk had appeared directly behind her.

She stepped away from it.

Her phone light fell across the wooden surface.

Seven letters had been carved into it.

A V E R Y.

Avery's heart pounded.

"How did that get there?"

The seventh girl finally spoke.

"You weren't supposed to come alone."

Avery stared at her.

"Where's my aunt?"

The girl looked toward the door.

"She came here."

"When?"

The girl didn't answer.

Avery stepped closer.

"Where is she?"

The girl's expression changed.

"She shouldn't have opened it."

"Opened what?"

The girl looked at the seventh desk.

Avery followed her gaze.

There was something beneath the desk.

A small wooden box.

Avery crouched and picked it up.

It was locked.

She immediately remembered the key in her pocket.

The key marked 7.

She pulled it out.

The children suddenly became restless.

For the first time, they moved.

All seven looked at the key.

The boy in the oversized sweater whispered:

"Don't."

Avery stopped.

"Why?"

The boy shook his head.

"Because once you open it..."

He looked toward the ceiling.

"...they'll know you're here."

Avery's heart sank.

"Who?"

No answer.

The lights suddenly flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then the room went completely dark.

Avery gasped.

She heard chairs scraping across the floor.

Then footsteps.

Small footsteps.

Running.

"Avery?"

The girl's voice came from somewhere behind her.

Avery spun around.

"Where are you?"

No answer.

She switched on her phone flashlight.

The room was empty.

All seven children were gone.

Avery stared at the desks.

Seven empty chairs.

Her breathing became unsteady.

She rushed to the door.

This time, it opened.

She stumbled into the hallway.

Nothing.

No children.

No footsteps.

No voices.

Just the long, dark corridor.

Then she heard something behind her.

A soft click.

Avery turned.

The door to Room 7 had closed.

She looked at the key still in her hand.

Then at the wooden box.

She hadn't opened it.

Yet somehow, the lock was gone.

Avery slowly lifted the lid.

Inside was a single cassette tape.

And beneath it, a handwritten note.

She unfolded the note.

Only one sentence was written there.

PLAY THIS ONLY WHEN YOU ARE READY TO HEAR YOUR MOTHER'S VOICE.

Avery stared at the cassette.

Her mother.

Evelyn.

For years, Avery had believed she was dead.

Now she was holding something that could prove otherwise.

She put the note in her pocket.

Then she noticed another detail.

Written along the edge of the cassette were four words:

ROOM 7 — FIRST RECORDING.

Avery looked down the hallway.

Somewhere far away, a door creaked open.

She heard a child's voice whisper:

"Don't let her hear it."

Avery froze.

Then another voice answered from the darkness.

"She already has."

The hallway lights suddenly switched on.

Every single one.

At the very end of the corridor stood Claire.

Avery's heart jumped.

"Aunt Claire!"

She ran toward her.

Claire didn't move.

She simply stood there, staring at Avery.

Avery slowed down.

Something was wrong.

Claire's clothes were different.

Her hair was wet.

And there was a dark mark across her wrist.

"Aunt Claire?"

Claire finally spoke.

But her voice was barely audible.

"You have to leave."

Avery stopped.

"Where were you?"

Claire looked behind Avery.

Her face drained of color.

"Did you open the box?"

Avery looked down.

"No."

Claire closed her eyes in relief.

Then—

Knock.

Both of them looked toward Room 7.

Knock.

Claire grabbed Avery's arm.

"Run."

Knock.

The door to Room 7 slowly began to open.

Claire pulled Avery toward the stairs.

But before Avery could move, she heard a familiar voice from inside the room.

Her mother's voice.

"Avery..."

Avery stopped dead.

Claire's grip tightened.

The voice came again.

This time, louder.

"Don't trust Claire."

Avery looked at her aunt.

Claire's face had gone completely white.

And for the first time, Avery wondered if the person she had been trying to find...

wasn't her mother at all.