The Voice in the Dark
926 Words
Sofía’s words hung in the air like a blade.
“They’re someone you trust.”
The room went still. Even the eucalyptus scent in the archive room seemed to pause, suspended in the air like a held breath.
Ana’s voice was barely a whisper. “Who? Who does she mean?”
Sofía shook her head, trembling. “I don’t know their name. I never saw their face. I only heard them.”
Marisol leaned forward. “When?”
Sofía swallowed hard. “The night after Lety disappeared. I was hiding in my room, crying. I thought the watcher would come for me next. And then… I heard a voice outside my window.”
Ana stiffened. “The watcher?”
“No.” Sofía’s eyes filled with fear. “A person. A real person.”
Marisol’s pulse quickened. “What did they say?”
Sofía’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They said the watcher wasn’t done. That it needed one more. That the archivist had to be delivered.”
Ana’s breath caught. “Delivered? Like… handed over?”
Sofía nodded. “They said the watcher couldn’t cross certain boundaries without help. That someone had to open the way.”
Tomás’s jaw tightened. “A human accomplice.”
Sofía looked at him. “They said the archivist was the key. That the watcher couldn’t finish the cycle without her.”
Marisol felt the pendant pulse faintly against her chest.
Ana whispered, “So they’re trying to get to Marisol.”
Sofía nodded. “They said her name. Over and over. Like a warning. Or a promise.”
Marisol’s stomach twisted. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Sofía’s voice cracked. “Because the watcher whispered too. It said if I told… it would take someone else. Someone close to me.”
Ana’s eyes widened. “Who?”
Sofía looked at Marisol.
“You.”
Ana’s breath hitched. “Me?”
Sofía nodded. “It said if I spoke, it would take your best friend. And I couldn’t— I couldn’t let that happen.”
Marisol felt her chest tighten. “Sofía… you were a kid. You were terrified. This isn’t your fault.”
Sofía shook her head violently. “But I kept the secret. And secrets feed it. That’s what it wants. Silence. Shame. Fear.”
Tomás exhaled slowly. “The watcher grows stronger when the town refuses to remember.”
Ana whispered, “And when people are too scared to speak.”
Sofía wiped her eyes. “I thought if I stayed quiet, it would leave me alone. But it didn’t. It followed me. It whispered to me. It showed up in reflections. In shadows. In dreams.”
Marisol leaned closer. “And now?”
Sofía’s voice trembled. “Now it’s angry. Because you opened the stories. Because you’re breaking the cycle.”
Ana swallowed. “So it’s using the traitor to get to her.”
Sofía nodded. “And the traitor is close. Too close.”
---
A sudden thud echoed from the hallway.
All three girls jumped.
Tomás stepped in front of them, eyes sharp. “Stay here.”
Marisol grabbed his arm. “Papá—”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you. But I need to see what that was.”
Ana whispered, “It’s the watcher.”
Sofía shook her head. “No. The watcher doesn’t knock. It doesn’t need to.”
Another thud.
Closer.
Marisol’s heart pounded. “Someone’s in the house.”
Tomás moved toward the hallway, muscles tense, breath shallow. The girls followed behind him, staying close, the pendant cold against Marisol’s skin.
They reached the living room.
The front door was still locked.
The windows were closed.
The house was silent.
Ana whispered, “Then what—”
A third thud.
From the back of the house.
Tomás turned sharply. “The kitchen.”
They moved slowly down the hallway. The air grew colder with each step. The eucalyptus scent faded, replaced by something metallic—like river water and rust.
Sofía grabbed Marisol’s sleeve. “It’s here.”
Marisol shook her head. “No. This feels different.”
They reached the kitchen.
The back door was open.
Just a crack.
A thin line of night air seeped through, carrying the scent of wet earth and something else—something sharp, electric, wrong.
Tomás whispered, “I locked that door.”
Ana’s voice trembled. “Then someone unlocked it.”
Marisol stepped forward, heart pounding. She pushed the door open slowly.
The backyard was empty.
Silent.
Still.
But something lay on the porch.
A piece of paper.
Folded neatly.
Marisol bent down and picked it up.
Her name was written on the front.
In her mother’s handwriting.
Ana gasped. “No. That’s impossible.”
Sofía whispered, “The watcher can mimic.”
Marisol unfolded the paper with shaking hands.
Inside was a single sentence.
“No confíes en nadie.”
“Trust no one.”
Ana whispered, “Is that from your mom? Or from the watcher?”
Marisol stared at the handwriting.
It looked like Isabel’s.
It felt like Isabel’s.
But the air around it felt wrong.
Cold.
Heavy.
Hungry.
Tomás stepped closer. “Marisol… what does it say?”
Marisol swallowed hard.
“It says not to trust anyone.”
Ana’s voice cracked. “Anyone? As in… us?”
Sofía’s eyes filled with fear. “It’s trying to isolate you.”
Marisol felt the truth settle in her chest like a stone.
The watcher didn’t just want her afraid.
It wanted her alone.
- Writer
