Chapter 3
2286 Words
CHAPTER THREE
THE NAMES ON THE WALL
Mara read her grandmother's message three times.
SHE IS NOT YOUR MOTHER.
The words seemed to change each time she looked at them.
At first, she thought it was a warning about the woman she had seen at Blackwood Manor.
Then another possibility struck her.
What if her grandmother meant the woman in the window wasn't Elena at all?
Mara looked toward the forest.
Blackwood Manor was hidden among the trees, but she could still see the faint glow of its windows.
Every instinct told her to drive in the opposite direction.
Instead, she started the engine.
She needed answers.
And this time, she wasn't going to let anyone stop her.
The road back to Blackwood was almost empty.
The rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt dark and reflective beneath the moonlight.
Mara drove slowly.
Her phone sat on the passenger seat.
She called her grandmother.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
She tried once more.
This time, the call connected.
But there was no voice.
"Grandma?"
Silence.
"Can you hear me?"
A faint sound came through.
Breathing.
Then a whisper.
"Mara..."
Her grandmother.
Mara sat upright.
"Where are you?"
The voice didn't answer.
"Grandma, tell me where you are."
Another sound came through.
A door closing.
Then footsteps.
Slow footsteps.
Her grandmother whispered:
"Don't trust the house."
The call ended.
Mara stared at the screen.
No signal.
She looked up.
Blackwood Manor was ahead.
The iron gates stood open.
Mara stopped the car.
She hadn't opened them.
She hadn't even seen anyone near them.
The gates were simply waiting.
She drove through.
The moment she crossed the boundary, the car's headlights flickered.
The engine coughed.
Then everything returned to normal.
Mara parked beneath the large oak tree near the house.
She stayed inside for several minutes.
She looked at the manor.
Every window was dark now.
Nothing moved.
She finally stepped outside.
The air was unnaturally cold.
She pulled her jacket tighter.
The front door was open.
Mara frowned.
She distinctly remembered closing it when she left.
She approached slowly.
The wooden floor creaked beneath her shoes.
"Hello?"
No answer.
She stepped inside.
The house smelled different.
The dust was gone.
The air smelled faintly of roses.
Her mother's favorite flowers.
Mara's heart tightened.
"Mom?"
Nothing.
She walked through the entrance hall.
The grandfather clock was ticking.
This time, the hands showed 3:13.
Mara checked her phone.
3:13 a.m.
She frowned.
She had been driving for less than an hour.
Her phone had said 1:40 when she left the motel.
Something was wrong.
She walked toward the staircase.
A sound came from upstairs.
A child laughing.
Mara stopped.
"Luca?"
The laughter stopped.
Then came a whisper.
"Too slow."
Mara climbed the stairs.
The hallway was different.
The wallpaper had changed.
Instead of faded flowers, the walls were covered with dark wooden panels.
Family portraits hung everywhere.
Mara had never seen them before.
She walked slowly past them.
One portrait showed a woman she didn't recognize.
Underneath it was a name.
EVELYN VALE — 1894.
The next:
THOMAS VALE — 1917.
The next:
ELIAS VALE — 1941.
Mara stopped.
Every portrait showed someone from the Vale family.
But every person had the same expression.
They were staring directly at the viewer.
Mara continued.
Then she saw something strange.
Some portraits had been covered with black cloth.
Others had been scratched across the face.
She reached for one.
A child's portrait.
She pulled the cloth away.
Her breath caught.
Luca.
The painting showed him standing beside a wooden door.
His expression was sad.
Underneath was a date.
2010.
Mara's heart pounded.
She touched the painting.
A cold sensation passed through her fingers.
Then Luca's eyes moved.
Mara stepped backward.
The boy in the portrait looked toward the door beside him.
Mara followed his gaze.
At the end of the hallway stood a black wooden door.
She had never seen it before.
There was no handle.
Only a small metal plate.
On it were three words:
THE FIRST DOOR.
Mara approached.
Her pulse quickened.
She touched the wood.
A whisper came from the other side.
"Don't open it."
Mara froze.
The voice was her own.
She pulled her hand away.
The whisper came again.
"Don't open it."
Mara looked around.
Nobody was there.
Then she noticed something on the floor.
A small brass key.
She picked it up.
There was a number engraved on it.
12
Mara stared at it.
Twelve.
The number from the knocking.
She looked back at the door.
There was no lock.
Then where was the key supposed to go?
A sound came from downstairs.
A heavy object falling.
Mara turned.
"Hello?"
No answer.
She hurried downstairs.
The entrance hall was empty.
But the front door was closed.
Mara walked toward it.
Before she reached it, someone knocked.
Once.
She stopped.
Twice.
Her heart began pounding.
Three times.
She backed away.
The knocking stopped.
Then a woman's voice came from the other side.
"Mara."
She closed her eyes.
Her mother's voice.
Again.
"Mara, please open the door."
Mara didn't move.
"I know you're there."
Mara swallowed.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Then:
"I'm your mother."
Mara's eyes filled with tears.
"No."
"Open the door."
"You aren't my mother."
The voice became colder.
"You know I am."
Mara stepped backward.
"What happened to Luca?"
Silence.
"Tell me what happened to my brother."
The voice changed.
It no longer sounded like Elena.
It sounded like something imitating her.
"Luca was never your brother."
Mara froze.
Then the door handle began turning.
She ran upstairs.
Behind her, the door opened.
Mara didn't look back.
She ran through the hallway.
Past the portraits.
Past the black door.
Into her mother's bedroom.
She slammed the door shut.
Then locked it.
She stood there, breathing heavily.
The room looked exactly as she remembered.
Her mother's bed.
Her writing desk.
The bookshelf.
A small music box.
Mara approached the desk.
Dust covered the surface.
She opened the drawers.
Nothing.
Second drawer.
Old photographs.
Third drawer.
A leather notebook.
Mara picked it up.
The cover was cracked.
Her mother's initials were embossed on it.
E.V.
Mara opened it.
The first pages contained ordinary notes.
Shopping lists.
Appointments.
Names.
Then the handwriting changed.
The entries became darker.
June 4
The knocking started again.
June 8
Luca heard it too.
June 11
Mother says we must leave.
June 14
The house won't let us.
Mara's hands shook.
She continued.
June 19
Mara has started dreaming about the door.
June 21
Luca opened it.
Mara stopped.
Her heart pounded.
She read the next page.
I was too late.
The following page had been torn out.
Mara flipped forward.
July 1
Luca came back.
But it wasn't Luca.
Mara stopped breathing.
She read the sentence again.
Luca came back. But it wasn't Luca.
Another page.
July 3
He knows things he shouldn't know.
Another.
July 7
He keeps asking Mara to come with him.
Another.
July 9
I finally understand.
The house doesn't take people.
It replaces them.
Mara dropped the notebook.
"No."
She picked it up again.
The final entry was dated thirteen years ago.
The ink looked fresh.
Tonight I will take Mara away.
Below it:
If I fail, she must never return.
Mara turned the page.
There was one final sentence.
If she comes back, tell her that the woman wearing my face is not me.
Mara stared.
Her grandmother's message suddenly made sense.
SHE IS NOT YOUR MOTHER.
A sound came from behind her.
Mara slowly turned.
The bedroom door was open.
She knew she had locked it.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Elena.
Her mother.
Exactly as Mara remembered her.
Same dark hair.
Same eyes.
Same face.
But something was wrong.
The woman smiled.
Mara stepped backward.
"You're not my mother."
The woman tilted her head.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because Mom would never smile like that."
The woman's smile disappeared.
"Come here."
"No."
"I missed you."
"Where is my mother?"
The woman took one step forward.
Mara raised the notebook.
"You wrote this."
The woman stared at it.
Then her expression changed.
For the first time, fear appeared in her eyes.
"Where did you find that?"
"My mother's room."
"Give it to me."
"No."
The woman stepped closer.
"Give it to me."
Mara ran.
She pushed past the woman and sprinted down the hallway.
Behind her came footsteps.
Fast.
Too fast.
Mara reached the staircase.
The house suddenly went dark.
She stopped.
The footsteps stopped too.
"Mara."
The voice came from behind her.
She turned.
Nothing.
Then something whispered beside her ear.
"You're remembering too much."
Mara ran downstairs.
She reached the entrance hall.
The front door was open.
She ran outside.
Cold air hit her face.
She didn't stop until she reached the car.
She pulled the door open.
Then froze.
Someone was sitting in the driver's seat.
Mara stepped backward.
The person slowly turned.
Her grandmother.
Mara stared.
"Grandma?"
The old woman looked exhausted.
Her clothes were torn.
There was dirt on her face.
She opened the passenger door.
"Get in."
Mara hesitated.
"How did you get here?"
"Get in."
"Grandma—"
"Now!"
Mara climbed inside.
Her grandmother started the car.
They drove through the gates.
Mara looked back.
The woman who looked like Elena stood on the porch.
She wasn't moving.
She simply watched them leave.
"Who is she?" Mara asked.
Her grandmother didn't answer.
"Grandma."
"Not here."
"What happened to Mom?"
"Not here."
"Where is Luca?"
Her grandmother's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"He is why we have to leave."
Mara stared at her.
"You told me he was my brother."
"He was."
"What does 'was' mean?"
Her grandmother's eyes filled with tears.
"He died."
Mara's heart sank.
"When?"
"Thirteen years ago."
"But I saw him."
"No."
"I spoke to him."
"No."
"He told me—"
"He is not Luca."
Mara looked at her.
"What is he?"
Her grandmother stared at the road.
"I don't know."
"You know."
"I don't."
"Grandma."
The old woman finally spoke.
"The thing inside Blackwood has been copying our family for generations."
Mara felt a chill.
"Copying?"
"Faces. Voices. Memories."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Then what does it want?"
Her grandmother whispered:
"You."
The car suddenly stopped.
Mara looked ahead.
The road was empty.
"What's wrong?"
Her grandmother stared at the windshield.
"Look."
Mara followed her gaze.
Someone was standing in the road.
A little boy.
Luca.
Mara's heart jumped.
"Stop!"
Her grandmother grabbed her arm.
"Don't get out."
"Luca!"
The boy smiled.
He raised his hand.
Then pointed behind them.
Mara turned.
Blackwood Manor was visible through the trees.
Even though they had driven several miles away.
The house stood in the distance.
Every window was lit.
Mara turned back.
The boy was gone.
Her grandmother whispered:
"It's begun."
"What has?"
"The return."
Mara's phone suddenly rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
No voice.
Only a faint sound.
Knocking.
One.
Two.
Three.
Mara looked at her grandmother.
The old woman began crying.
Four.
Five.
Six.
The knocking continued.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Her grandmother whispered:
"Don't listen."
Ten.
Eleven.
The phone went silent.
Mara held her breath.
Then a final sound came through the speaker.
One knock.
Her grandmother screamed.
The phone slipped from Mara's hand.
The screen went black.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Mara noticed something on the back seat.
A small wooden box.
She picked it up.
"What's this?"
Her grandmother stared at it.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was here."
"Don't open it."
Mara looked at the box.
A tiny brass lock held it shut.
She remembered the key.
The key she had found at Blackwood.
The one engraved with 12.
She slowly pulled it from her pocket.
Her grandmother's face went white.
"Mara."
Mara inserted the key.
"Don't."
The lock clicked.
The box opened.
Inside was a child's photograph.
Luca.
Beside it was a folded piece of paper.
Mara opened it.
Only one sentence had been written.
THE HOUSE DIDN'T TAKE LUCA. LUCA OPENED THE DOOR.
Mara looked at her grandmother.
"What door?"
Her grandmother's eyes filled with tears.
"The first door."
Mara looked toward the forest.
Blackwood Manor was gone.
But she could hear something.
Faintly.
Far away.
A child laughing.
Then three knocks sounded from somewhere beneath the car.
Mara froze.
Her grandmother whispered:
"Whatever happens next, don't answer."
Mara looked down.
The road beneath the car was empty.
Then came another knock.
This time from inside the trunk.
And another.
And another.
Mara counted silently.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Her grandmother covered her ears.
"Don't count them!"
But Mara couldn't stop.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
The knocking stopped.
Mara stared at the trunk.
Then something scratched from inside.
Her grandmother whispered:
"It's not supposed to know where we live."
Mara turned toward her.
"What does that mean?"
Her grandmother looked at her.
"It doesn't live at Blackwood anymore."
Mara's blood ran cold.
"Then where does it live?"
Her grandmother looked at the back seat.
At the wooden box.
Then at Mara.
"It lives wherever the last person it copied goes."
The trunk suddenly went silent.
Mara didn't breathe.
Then her phone lit up by itself.
One new message.
No number.
No sender.
Just six words:
WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE, MARA.
And beneath the message was a photograph.
Mara opened it.
It showed her.
Sitting in the car.
Right now.
Taken from outside the window.
Mara slowly looked toward the darkness beyond the road.
Nothing.
Then she heard a whisper directly beside her ear.
"Chapter three has already begun."
Mara turned.
Nobody was there.
But on the window beside her appeared a small handprint.
From the inside.
END OF CHAPTER THREE
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