The Forgotten Room
1237 Words
Pearl couldn’t shake the feeling that everything she knew about herself was a lie.
The image of the name on that document from the library — the man listed as her father, a man she’d never heard of before — haunted her thoughts like a shadow creeping at the edge of her vision. Her mother had carefully constructed a version of reality, one Pearl now suspected was deliberately false.
She needed more. Needed truth. Evidence. Something to make sense of it all before she confronted anyone — especially her mom.
And she knew exactly where to look.
---
Prince was waiting for her in the hallway beside the old auditorium, arms folded, hoodie half-zipped, hair ruffled like he hadn’t slept either.
“You’re serious about this?” he asked when she approached.
“I don’t want guesses. I want facts.”
He gave her a look. “Then we’re going into the ghosts’ den.”
Behind the chemistry labs, past the shuttered classrooms no one used anymore, was a rusted door concealed by climbing ivy and old fencing wire. Few students even knew it existed. The old storeroom had been sealed off after the renovations. It was rumored to house everything from decades-old student records to spiders the size of small cats.
Prince pulled out the maintenance key he'd "borrowed" and slid it into the lock. The mechanism groaned, reluctant to cooperate, then gave way with a loud click.
Darkness spilled out.
Pearl hesitated. “Charming.”
“Ladies first,” Prince smirked, flicking on his flashlight.
Pearl stepped inside, brushing dust off her sleeves as the air grew heavier, colder.
The room was a graveyard of the past — papers yellowed with age, boxes crumbling at the corners, broken chairs, and forgotten lab coats dangling from hooks. A few hanging bulbs above were long dead. Only their flashlights cut through the murk.
“Start with the back,” Prince said. “The oldest files are up front. The more recent stuff’s buried.”
They split up, working in silence. Pearl moved methodically, scanning box labels, brushing away cobwebs, fingers tracing over faded ink. 1995–2000. Her pulse quickened.
She opened the box and began digging.
Inside: staff rosters, grade records, even incident reports. Then — her hand froze.
A personnel file. The name matched the one she’d seen in the library. The man listed as her biological father.
Pearl's hands trembled as she opened it.
He had been a substitute literature teacher at the school the year she was born. There were notes about a temporary contract, glowing performance reviews, and one disciplinary flag: unauthorized relationship with a fellow staff member.
Pearl’s eyes scanned faster.
Attached was a faded photocopy of a letter — an internal memo from the school board. It was signed by Clara Eddington. Prince’s grandmother.
Pearl swallowed.
There were attached notes in different handwriting. Mentions of “removal for discretion,” “avoid scandal,” and the name of her mother.
She stared at the file.
They hadn’t just buried the relationship. They’d buried the man. Her father. His name was wiped from all public documentation — but here, in this forgotten file, he lived again.
Prince appeared beside her, crouching down. “You found something.”
Wordlessly, she handed him the file.
His face darkened as he read through it. “Clara knew. And if she knew, my dad knew too.”
He dug into the box again, pulling out more documents — disciplinary files, memos, board meeting summaries. Another caught his eye.
“This is from the same year,” he said, opening it. “It’s a complaint… about the relationship. Anonymous sender. But the tone—it’s personal. Angry.”
They both read it in silence.
The complaint accused the teacher — Pearl’s father — of manipulating a colleague. It demanded an immediate dismissal. Prince’s jaw clenched.
“That’s my dad’s handwriting,” he said quietly.
Pearl blinked. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “I’ve seen it enough in notes and letters. This was him. He reported them.”
Her stomach turned.
“So your father got mine fired?”
Prince hesitated. “Or tried to. Maybe out of jealousy, or fear of how it’d affect our family’s reputation. Either way, he was involved.”
They sat in the silence of the dust and files for a moment too long.
The air shifted.
Pearl turned to look at Prince, something vulnerable and sharp passing through her chest. “Thank you. For helping me.”
He looked back at her, eyes dark, steady. “I’m not just helping you. This matters to me too.”
Their hands touched again as they gathered the files. He didn’t pull away.
Neither did she.
For one suspended moment, the tension between them changed — heavy, sweet, undeniable.
Pearl’s breath caught. Prince leaned in slightly. So did she. Their faces were just inches apart. So close.
And then—
THUMP.
They both froze.
It wasn’t from inside the room. It came from outside.
Footsteps.
Then another sound — a key rattling in the lock.
Prince jumped up. “Someone’s coming.”
Pearl shoved the files back into the box, grabbed the personnel folder, and stuffed it into her bag. Prince motioned her toward the far wall.
“There’s another way out,” he whispered. “Behind the file cabinets.”
They hurried, dodging rusted chairs and stacks of dusty binders.
Another click. The door creaked open. A flashlight beam swept into the room.
Pearl and Prince slipped out through the gap in the back wall just as a voice called out from behind them.
“Who’s in here?”
They didn’t wait to find out.
---
They ran.
Down the corridor. Past old lockers. Into the stairwell.
When they reached the second floor, they ducked into an empty classroom, hearts pounding in unison. Pearl collapsed onto a desk, trying to breathe.
Prince leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the hallway.
“That wasn’t a janitor,” he said. “They wouldn’t sneak in like that.”
“Then who?”
“Someone who didn’t want us finding those files.”
Pearl stared down at the folder now clutched in her arms. “We need to be careful.”
Prince nodded. “Someone’s watching.”
She opened the folder again, skimming through the last page.
There, taped behind one of the documents, was something new. A photo. Torn at the edges.
A woman holding a baby.
Pearl’s mom.
But beside her — not her father.
A different man entirely.
Pearl’s breath hitched.
Prince looked over her shoulder. “Who the hell is that?”
Pearl stared at the man’s face. Something about him sparked a strange, sinking feeling.
She turned the photo over.
There was a note scrawled on the back.
He always knew. And he made sure I stayed silent.
No signature.
Just a date.
Two weeks before the car accident that killed her father.
Pearl’s voice shook. “Someone else was involved…”
Prince looked at her sharply. “Do you think this man—?”
Before he could finish, her phone buzzed.
A single message lit up the screen. No sender. Just one line:
“Stop digging, or you’ll end up just like him.”
Pearl’s face drained of color.
She looked at Prince.
His jaw tightened.
They weren’t just uncovering the past anymore.
Now, they were in danger.
- Writer
