KEEP HER CLOSE

The shadow Whisper

A full day had passed. The sun had risen and set again, casting its usual golden hue, but for Louisiana Vale, there was no sunrise only darkness. Trapped in the icy, stone-cold basement, the hours stretched like an endless curse. She couldn’t tell what time it was anymore. Her stomach growled in quiet protest, and her lips were dry and cracked. Her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she sat huddled in the corner, shivering against the chill.

The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was loud. Too loud. Each creak of the old house echoed like a scream in the basement. Every drop of water from the leaking pipe above her felt like time mocking her. The darkness felt alive, like it was crawling over her skin.

She hated darkness. It reminded her of the orphanage nights the ones filled with nightmares and whispered threats, where no one came when she cried. This felt worse. At least back then, she was with other children. Now, it was just her… and whatever lived in her fear.

Above, life continued. Gladys, the head maid, had found out what Seraphina had done not long after it happened. She had pleaded.

“Please, Miss Seraphina,” she whispered that morning, following her through the grand hall, “she’s just a girl. She didn’t mean any harm. Let her out. It’s been too long”

Seraphina turned, her heels clicking to a halt. Her smile was sugarcoated venom. “Did I ask for your opinion, Gladys?” she said sweetly, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. “She raised her voice at me. In my home. If you want to join her, do keep talking.”

Gladys stepped back, biting her tongue, her heart clenching with worry.

Seraphina spent the rest of the day lounging like royalty, having tea in the drawing room, inspecting her wardrobe, and ensuring every inch of the house was pristine. If anyone asked, Louisiana had taken the day off. “Exhaustion,” Seraphina had said with a fake pout.

By evening, the weather changed. A light rain began to fall, tapping against the large windows. And just as Seraphina was applying the final touches to her makeup before dinner, the gates creaked open.

A sleek black car rolled in. The staff rushed to attention.

Alexander had returned. He stepped out of the car like a storm in human form composed, sharp, unreadable. His coat whipped slightly in the wind, and his eyes were darker than the clouds above.

“Sir! Welcome home,” Gladys said, bowing slightly.

He nodded once, eyes scanning the entrance, then the hall, then upstairs. “Everything in order?” he asked, already removing his gloves.

“Perfectly, sir,” Seraphina purred, descending the stairs with grace, her satin dress flowing like water. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“I wrapped up earlier than planned,” Alexander replied flatly.

They exchanged kisses on cheeks, and she linked her arm with his like the perfect partner. “Let me run your bath, darling. You must be exhausted.”

He gave a slight nod but said nothing.

In the basement, Louisiana didn’t know he was home. She was too weak to stand, her head leaned against the wall, eyelids heavy. She had started talking to herself a few hours ago. Not words. Just whispers. Prayers. Hopes that someone would remember her.

The night was closing in.

And so was the truth.