THE DISAPPEARANCE
1331 Words
I woke up with my phone still in my hand.
The screen had gone dark, but I didn’t need to unlock it to remember what was on it. I had read the message too many times already.
Still, I tapped it open again.
Just to be sure.
Just to… check.
Unknown Number: Did you hear it too?
I stared at the words, my thumb hovering over the screen.
That was it.
No name.
No explanation.
No follow-up.
Just that one sentence, sitting there like it knew something I didn’t.
Or worse.
Like it knew exactly what I did.
I exhaled slowly, dropping the phone onto the bed beside me. “This is stupid,” I muttered.
It had to be.
Someone messing around. A wrong number. A bad joke.
People texted random things all the time. Right?
I pushed myself up, running a hand through my hair.
“Did you hear it too?” I pressed my lips together.
No.
I didn’t hear anything. I imagined it. That was all.
A sound in an old house. Pipes. Air. Something small that my mind twisted into something bigger.
And now—
Now it was following me into the morning.
I shook my head, standing up. “Get over it,” I said under my breath.
I moved through my routine without thinking. Shower. Clothes. Hair. Everything in place. Everything normal. By the time I stepped out of my room, I had almost convinced myself it didn’t matter.
Almost.
Something felt off.
I noticed it before I could explain it.
The hallway looked the same. Clean. Quiet. Perfect.
But not quite.
My steps slowed slightly as I walked toward the dining room.
It was small things. Things that shouldn’t matter.
A tray left on a table a little longer than usual. A door that stayed closed when it was normally open. A pause in movement where there shouldn’t have been one.
The house was still running. But it wasn’t… smooth. I reached the dining room and stepped inside.
Breakfast was already set. Of course.
My father wasn’t there yet. That wasn’t unusual. He left early sometimes.
What was, I glanced toward the side of the room. The spot where she usually stood.
Empty.
I frowned slightly, looking around. “Good morning, miss.” I turned.
Another maid stood near the table, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
Not Lina.
I hesitated for a second. “Good morning.”
I looked past her again. Nothing.
No familiar face. No quiet presence moving in the background the way it always had. Lina had been there every morning.
Every single one. Since I was a child.
She was the one who used to fix my hair when I refused to sit still. The one who slipped me extra fruit when I didn’t want to eat. The one who always smiled softly like she knew things she didn’t say.
And yesterday—
I swallowed.
Yesterday, she had spilled the tea.
My chest tightened just a little.
I turned back to the maid in front of me. “Where’s Lina?”
The girl didn’t answer immediately. That was the first thing. The pause.
Too long. Too careful.
“She…” Her voice faltered slightly before she straightened. “She left.”
I blinked. “Left?”
“Yes, miss.”
I tilted my head, studying her. “When?”
“Last night.” Too quick. The answer came out like it had been practiced. Like she had already said it before.
“Last night?” I repeated.
“Yes, miss.” I waited. She didn’t add anything.Didn’t explain. Didn’t look at me.
Her eyes stayed fixed somewhere just past my shoulder.
I crossed my arms lightly. “She didn’t say goodbye.” Another pause.
“She… didn’t have time.” I let out a small breath through my nose.
“Didn’t have time,” I echoed.
“Yes, miss.” Her fingers tightened slightly where they were clasped together. I watched her for a second longer. Then I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
But it wasn’t. Not really.
As I walked through the halls, the staff moved like they always did.
Efficient. Quiet. Careful.
But now they didn’t meet my eyes. Not one of them. A maid passed me, her head lowered more than usual. Another stepped aside too quickly, like she didn’t want to be noticed.
I slowed slightly, watching them.
“Hey,” I called softly. The maid stopped immediately.
She turned, her expression polite but tight. “Yes, miss?” I studied her face.
There was something there. Something she was trying to hide. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, miss.”
I gave a small nod. “Alright.” She didn’t wait. She turned and walked away almost immediately.
I stood there for a second, the silence pressing in again. Then I kept moving.
My father sat at the table when I returned from my walk.
Reading.
A newspaper lay open in front of him, his posture relaxed, like nothing in the world was wrong.
Like everything was exactly as it should be. I stepped inside, my eyes lingering on him for a moment before I took my seat.
“Good morning,” I said.
He hummed softly, not looking up. “Good morning.”
I reached for my glass, my fingers brushing against the cool surface.
I hesitated.
“Where’s Lina?” The question came out casual.
Like it didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t watching him.
He didn’t look up. Didn’t pause. Didn’t react. “Irrelevant.”
That was it. One word.
Flat.
Final.
My hand stilled on the glass.
I waited.
For something else.
An explanation.
A correction.
Anything.
Nothing came.
I looked at him, but his eyes stayed on the paper, his expression unchanged. Like the conversation had already ended. Like there was nothing more to say.
I swallowed slowly, my grip tightening just slightly. “Okay,” I said.
And that was that.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. That was the part that didn’t make sense.
People left. Staff changed. Things happened.
This house moved on without pausing for anyone. I knew that. I had always known that.
So why?
I sat on the edge of my bed later that day, staring at nothing. Why did this feel different? Why did it feel wrong?
I pressed my lips together, my fingers curling slightly into the fabric beside me.
“It’s nothing,” I whispered. But the words didn’t settle. They didn’t stick.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.
The way her hands had shaken.
The way his voice had changed.
The way no one would look at me this morning.
And that word.
“Irrelevant.”
I exhaled sharply, standing up. “I’m overthinking.” I had to be.
There was no other explanation.
That night, the house was quiet again. Too quiet.
I walked through the hallway slowly, my steps softer than usual. I wasn’t going anywhere in particular.
Just… moving. Trying to shake the feeling that had followed me all day. I turned the corner and stopped. The basement door stood at the end of the hall.
Closed. Like always.
My chest tightened slightly. I hadn’t meant to come this way. I hadn’t even realized I was walking toward it. But here I was.
Again.
I stared at it for a moment.
Then I exhaled quietly, shaking my head.
“Go back,” I muttered.
I shifted my weight, turning slightly and then something caught my eye.
I frowned. Stepping closer. Just a little. The door looked the same.
Dark.
I moved closer, my steps slow now, careful. My breath felt louder.
My heart was pounding. And then I sa
w it. Lines. Faint. But there.
My stomach dropped.
I reached out without thinking, my fingers hovering just above the surface of the door.
Scratches. Long. Uneven. Dragged across the wood like something…
No. Like someone…
- Writer
