Chapter Seven: The Memory in the Dark
1328 Words
Maya stood frozen beside the trapdoor.
Her hand was still pressed against the wood.
Below her, something moved.
Then came the laughter again.
Her laughter.
Not a sound that merely resembled it.
It was unmistakably hers.
The same breathless little laugh her mother used to complain about when Maya was nervous.
The same laugh she heard in old family videos.
Except this one was coming from beneath the floor.
Maya stumbled backward.
“No.”
The trapdoor remained closed.
She stared at it.
Then something scratched against the underside.
Slowly.
Three long scratches.
Maya grabbed the nearest wooden beam and pulled herself upright.
She had to leave.
Now.
She ran toward the boathouse door.
The moment she stepped outside, she nearly fell.
Cold rain had begun pouring from the sky.
The lake was no longer still.
Waves crashed against the shore.
Maya looked back at the boathouse.
The upstairs window was dark.
But a silhouette stood behind it.
A girl.
Watching her.
Maya’s heart stopped.
The girl raised one hand.
Then pointed toward the lake.
Maya didn’t wait to see anything else.
She ran.
⸻
By the time Maya reached home, she was soaked.
She slipped through the back door.
The house was dark.
“Mom?”
No answer.
Maya turned on the kitchen light.
Nothing.
“Mom?”
She checked the living room.
Empty.
Her mother’s bedroom.
Empty.
Maya’s heart began racing.
She ran upstairs.
Her bedroom door was open.
Inside, everything was exactly as she’d left it.
Except for one thing.
The box of photographs was gone.
Maya stopped in the doorway.
“No.”
She searched the floor.
The desk.
Under the bed.
Nothing.
Then she noticed something on her pillow.
A photograph.
Maya picked it up.
It showed the boathouse.
Taken from the lake.
The date in the corner was today’s.
On the back, someone had written:
YOU LEFT HER BEHIND.
Maya turned the photograph over.
Her hands shook.
There was another message beneath the first.
NOW SHE’S COMING FOR YOU.
A noise came from downstairs.
Maya froze.
Footsteps.
Someone had entered the house.
“Maya?”
Her mother’s voice.
Maya exhaled.
“Mom?”
She hurried downstairs.
Her mother stood in the hallway.
She was holding the box.
“Maya.”
Maya stopped.
“Where did you get that?”
Her mother looked at the box.
“You went to the boathouse.”
It wasn’t a question.
Maya stared at her.
“How did you know?”
Her mother didn’t answer.
“You saw her.”
Maya’s heart tightened.
“You know about her.”
“I know enough.”
“Who is she?”
Her mother looked exhausted.
“Not tonight.”
“No.”
Maya stepped closer.
“You don’t get to do that anymore.”
“Maya—”
“You’ve lied to me since I was seven.”
Her mother’s expression cracked.
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“From her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she isn’t your sister.”
“I know.”
“She isn’t a copy of you.”
Maya frowned.
“Then what is she?”
Her mother hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because nobody knows.”
“You do.”
Her mother looked away.
Maya stepped closer.
“Tell me what happened at the lake.”
Her mother closed her eyes.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t there.”
Maya froze.
“What?”
Her mother opened her eyes.
“I wasn’t there when you disappeared.”
“But you said—”
“I was looking for you.”
“Then who found me?”
Her mother went silent.
Maya remembered Ethan.
The boy.
The missing teenager.
“He did.”
Her mother nodded.
“Ethan found you.”
“But Ethan was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“He should be twenty-seven now.”
Her mother’s expression changed.
“I know.”
Maya stared at her.
“Then how is he still seventeen?”
Her mother looked toward the window.
“I don’t know.”
A cold silence settled over the house.
Then Maya asked:
“Where is he now?”
Her mother didn’t answer.
Maya already knew.
⸻
She went upstairs.
The box sat on her bed.
Maya opened it.
There were fewer photographs now.
The ones from the lake were gone.
The ones of Ethan were gone.
The photographs of the seventh girl were gone.
Only one remained.
Maya picked it up.
It showed her at seven years old.
She was sitting on the edge of Blackwater Lake.
Her feet were in the water.
Someone was standing behind her.
Maya couldn’t see their face.
But she recognized the jacket.
Black.
Ethan.
She turned the photograph over.
A sentence had been written on the back.
HE DIDN’T FIND YOU.
Maya stared.
Another line appeared underneath.
YOU FOUND HIM.
She blinked.
The ink was still wet.
Maya dropped the photograph.
Her heart pounded.
She stepped away.
The words had changed.
Now there was only one sentence.
REMEMBER THE FIRST NIGHT.
Maya’s head suddenly hurt.
She grabbed the edge of the desk.
The room blurred.
Then—
The lake.
Maya gasped.
She was seven years old.
She could feel the cold water beneath her feet.
Rain was falling.
Hard.
Someone was shouting.
“Maya!”
She turned.
Ethan stood on the dock.
But he wasn’t seventeen.
He was younger.
Maybe ten.
Maybe eleven.
He was holding a flashlight.
Behind him stood the other children.
Sophie.
Daniel.
Lena.
Noah.
Caleb.
And the girl.
The girl who looked exactly like Maya.
Maya watched the memory unfold.
The girl stepped toward her.
“Are you sure?”
Seven-year-old Maya nodded.
“We have to open it.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No.”
Maya looked toward him.
“You said you weren’t scared.”
“I am now.”
The girl smiled.
“It’s too late.”
The memory shifted.
The seven children stood outside the old library.
Mrs. Bell was there.
She was younger.
She was crying.
“Please don’t,” she begged.
Maya held something in her hand.
A key.
The same key Ethan had given her.
Mrs. Bell looked at Maya.
“You promised me.”
Seven-year-old Maya whispered:
“I know.”
Then she turned toward the basement door.
Maya watched herself put the key into the lock.
Click.
One lock.
Click.
Two.
Click.
Three.
The door opened.
Darkness waited behind it.
Then a voice spoke from inside.
Maya’s voice.
“Which one of us are you?”
The memory shattered.
Maya screamed.
She fell against the wall.
The room returned.
Her breathing was uneven.
She looked at her hands.
They were shaking.
She remembered.
Not everything.
But enough.
She had opened the door.
She had heard the voice.
And someone had been waiting inside.
Maya looked toward the photograph on the floor.
The words had changed again.
YOU REMEMBERED THE FIRST NIGHT.
Then another sentence appeared.
NOW REMEMBER THE SECOND.
Maya stared.
“What second night?”
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
Ethan is not the one who disappeared.
Another message appeared.
Lena is.
Maya’s stomach dropped.
Then the final message arrived.
And tomorrow, you’ll meet her.
Maya stared at the screen.
A sound came from behind her.
Three knocks.
Not downstairs.
Not outside.
From inside the bedroom closet.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Maya slowly turned.
The closet door was closed.
She hadn’t closed it.
Her phone buzzed one final time.
Don’t open it.
Maya stared at the closet.
Then came a whisper from behind the door.
“Maya?”
Her own voice.
But this time, it wasn’t laughing.
It was crying.
“Please.”
Maya took one step forward.
The voice whispered again.
“I’m still in here.”
Maya’s hand reached for the closet handle.
And somewhere far beneath Hollow Creek, a door opened.
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