Behind Closed Doors

CHAPTER FOUR -THE STUDY

There was light underneath the door.

I stood completely still.

Someone was inside.

At this hour.

In the room everyone avoided.

My first instinct was to turn around and run upstairs.

My second was to find out who was there.

Unfortunately, curiosity won.

I stepped closer.

The light beneath the door flickered.

I reached for the handle.

It turned.

Unlocked.

That frightened me more than a locked door would have.

I pushed it open.

The study was darker than I expected.

Only the desk lamp was on.

The curtains were drawn.

Shelves covered almost every wall, filled with old books, files, photographs, and boxes.

But there was no one there.

I stepped inside.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

I closed the door behind me.

My heartbeat seemed deafening in the silence.

I looked around.

Everything appeared untouched.

A large wooden desk stood in the centre of the room.

Beside it was an old leather chair.

I remembered Leo's words.

Ask yourself why Grandma never goes into the study.

Ask yourself why Uncle keeps that room locked.

I walked toward the desk.

There were several papers on top.

Bills.

Old letters.

Family documents.

Nothing unusual.

Then I noticed a photograph.

It was old.

Very old.

I picked it up.

It showed the entire family standing in front of the house.

Grandma looked much younger.

Uncle was barely an adult.

Mom was standing near the centre.

And beside her—

I stopped breathing.

Leo.

But he looked different.

Much younger.

Maybe twelve or thirteen.

I stared at the photograph.

Why was this picture in the study?

I turned it over.

There was writing on the back.

Summer, 2012.

That couldn't be right.

I looked at Leo's face again.

Something didn't make sense.

I placed the photograph down.

Then I noticed a second picture underneath it.

I picked it up.

This one showed Mom and another woman.

The woman looked strangely familiar.

I studied her face.

I had seen her before.

Somewhere.

But where?

I turned the photograph over.

There were only two words written on the back.

Don't forget.

A noise came from the hallway.

I nearly dropped it.

Footsteps.

Someone was coming.

I quickly switched off the desk lamp.

The room went completely dark.

The footsteps stopped outside.

I held my breath.

The handle moved.

Once.

Twice.

Then the door opened.

A figure stepped inside.

I couldn't see their face.

They walked toward the desk.

I pressed myself against the wall.

The figure switched on the lamp.

I saw the side of their face.

Uncle.

My heart sank.

What was he doing here?

He walked to the desk and opened the top drawer.

He pulled out a folder.

I watched silently.

He looked around the room.

Then he opened the folder.

I couldn't see what was inside.

But I could see his expression.

He looked worried.

Not angry.

Worried.

He quickly removed several documents and placed them inside a smaller envelope.

Then he heard something.

He turned toward the door.

I held my breath.

He walked out.

The door closed behind him.

I waited.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Then I stepped away from the wall.

My hands were shaking.

I should leave.

Instead, I walked toward the desk.

The drawer was still open.

I looked inside.

The folder was gone.

But one piece of paper remained.

I pulled it out.

It was a hospital document.

I read the first line.

Then stopped.

The name on the document was familiar.

Amaria.

My blood ran cold.

I read it again.

My name.

My date of birth.

My family information.

But underneath it was a date from years ago.

A date I didn't remember.

I continued reading.

The words blurred.

I couldn't understand what I was looking at.

Why was there a hospital record about me?

Why had Uncle hidden it?

And why had nobody ever told me?

I heard footsteps again.

This time, they were coming from upstairs.

I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket.

Then I ran.

I left the study and quietly closed the door.

I made it halfway up the stairs before someone called out.

“Amaria?”

I froze.

Mom.

She stood at the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?”

I forced a smile.

“I couldn't sleep.”

She stared at me.

“Why were you downstairs?”

“I wanted water.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Then she looked toward the hallway.

“Were you in the study?”

My heart stopped.

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Mom noticed.

“Amaria.”

“I wasn't.”

She walked down two steps.

“Don't lie to me.”

I couldn't speak.

She reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Why would you even go near that room?”

“I told you. I wanted water.”

She stared at me for a long moment.

Then she whispered:

“You need to stay away from that study.”

“Why?”

Her face changed.

For a second, she looked afraid.

Then the expression disappeared.

“Because some things are better left alone.”

She turned and walked away.

I watched her disappear down the hallway.

My hands trembled.

That wasn't the answer of someone who had nothing to hide.

That was the answer of someone who was terrified I would find something.

---

I returned to my room.

I locked the door.

Then I took the document from my pocket.

I placed it on the bed.

I read it again.

My name was clearly written at the top.

But one section had been folded.

I carefully opened it.

There was a handwritten note.

I recognized the handwriting immediately.

Uncle's.

She must never know what happened that night.

I stopped breathing.

What night?

I read the next line.

If Amaria remembers, everything falls apart.

I sat down.

The room suddenly felt unbearably small.

What was I supposed to remember?

Why couldn't I remember it?

I searched my mind.

Nothing.

Only fragments.

A dark hallway.

Someone crying.

A door slamming.

Then nothing.

I shook my head.

No.

Those couldn't be memories.

Could they?

I turned the paper over.

There was another note.

Shorter.

Leo knows.

I stared at those words.

Leo knows.

I suddenly understood why he'd sent me to the study.

He hadn't been trying to scare me.

He wanted me to find something.

But why?

And if Leo knew the truth about my past...

What exactly had he been waiting for me to remember?

---

A knock came at my door.

I quickly hid the document beneath my pillow.

“Who is it?”

“It's me.”

Leo.

I didn't answer.

“Amaria.”

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

Silence.

Then—

“You went to the study.”

My blood ran cold.

“How do you know?”

“I know everything that happens in this house.”

I didn't respond.

His voice became quieter.

“You found something.”

I stared at the door.

“Go away.”

“Did you find the hospital record?”

My heart stopped.

He knew.

He knew exactly what I'd found.

I stepped closer to the door.

“Why was my name on it?”

Silence.

“Leo?”

Nothing.

Then his voice came through the door.

“Because you weren't supposed to survive.”

I froze.

The hallway went completely silent.

“What did you say?”

He didn't answer.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Nobody was there.

I stepped into the hallway.

“Leo?”

Nothing.

I looked down.

Something had been pushed underneath my door.

A photograph.

I picked it up.

My hands began shaking.

It was the same house.

The same family.

But this photograph was different.

Everyone was standing outside.

Everyone except me.

At the bottom of the photograph was a date.

October 17, 2012.

And written across the back were five words:

We buried the truth that night.

I stared at the photograph.

Then I noticed something.

Someone had circled one person in red.

Leo.

Underneath his name was another message.

Ask him what he saw.

I looked toward the dark hallway.

Leo was nowhere in sight.

But for the first time, I realized something terrifying.

Maybe Leo wasn't the beginning of this story.

Maybe he was only the person who knew how it started.

And somewhere inside this house was the truth about what happened to me years ago.

A truth my entire family had agreed to bury.

A truth they were still hiding.

And now—

I was determined to uncover it.