“Claire, you look lost.”
The voice slithered through the dark hallway like a phantom. I froze mid-step, my hand just inches from the boy’s bedroom door. I turned slowly, trying not to show the ice creeping down my spine.
Elena stood at the far end, her silhouette carved against the soft golden light again. Her arms crossed. Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“Just checking on him.”
My voice felt too loud, the lie staining the air like ink. She didn’t move, didn’t blink—just stood there watching. Studying.
“You’re devoted,” she murmured finally. “How sweet.”
There was no warmth in her tone—just that blade-edged amusement she wore like armor. My fingers curled tighter around the lamp, hidden against my side. Its weight grounded me.
I forced a smile. Small. Obedient. Play along, Claire.
“It’s my job,” I replied softly.
Her head tilted, the light catching the sharp angles of her face.
“Tell me something, Claire.”
She took a step forward. I didn’t dare move, though every muscle screamed at me to back away. Her heels clicked once, twice, like a metronome marking a countdown.
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
My heart jumped, knocking against my ribs like a fist. I blinked once, schooling my expression into something neutral.
“No.”
The word left my mouth quickly. Too quickly. Elena’s smile widened, and the chill behind her eyes deepened.
Another step closer.
“Interesting,” she purred. “Then I wonder… who were you talking to?”
My blood ran cold.
I swallowed. Hard.
“What?”
Her eyes glinted, two shards of glass cutting through the dim.
“A voice. You were speaking.”
The accusation slithered out, wrapping around my throat. I shook my head, mustering a small laugh that scraped against my teeth.
“You must’ve misheard.”
Elena said nothing. She let the silence stretch, pressing down on me like the weight of a thousand secrets.
Then she moved closer—close enough that I could see the faint shimmer of powder dusted over her flawless skin. She smelled like roses. Like something dying slowly in the sun.
“You look so familiar,” she whispered.
Her words clung to the air, suffocating it. I felt my pulse stutter. My skin prickled as if her gaze were peeling it back layer by layer.
I tried to speak. To breathe. But my voice wouldn’t come. I felt her eyes dig deeper, searching.
Searching for me.
“I get that a lot,” I managed, my throat raw. “Must be one of those faces.”
Elena didn’t blink. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came. Her gaze flicked downward—to the lamp in my hand—before lifting again, colder. Sharper.
“Perhaps.”
She stepped back finally, her presence leaving the air brittle in her wake. I stayed rooted in place as she glided past me, her perfume clawing at my lungs.
I didn’t dare turn my head to watch her disappear down the hallway. Not until her steps faded into nothingness.
I let out a shaky breath. The lamp slipped from my grip, landing softly against the carpeted floor. My knees wanted to buckle.
She knows.
A tremor ran through me, head to toe. I turned back to the boy’s door and cracked it open. He was still there, curled beneath the blankets, his small breaths steady. For now, he was safe.
I lingered at the threshold, my thoughts a storm, my body trembling.
That door—the locked one—lingered in my mind’s eye like a dark stain. I had to get inside. I had to know.
But Elena…
Elena was watching.
And she wouldn’t stop until she knew who I really was.
