Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4: THE GIRL AT THE DOOR
Amara stared at her phone.
Her mother's voice was trembling.
“Someone came to the house asking for you.”
Amara couldn't breathe.
“Who?”
There was a long silence.
Then her mother whispered:
“Lena.”
The world around Amara disappeared.
The empty classroom.
The dust.
Nneka standing beside her.
Everything.
“Mom,” Amara whispered. “That's not possible.”
“I know.”
“You told me she died.”
“She did.”
Amara gripped the phone tighter.
“Then who came to the house?”
Her mother began crying.
Amara had heard her mother cry before.
At Lena's funeral.
On the night their father left home.
But never like this.
Never with this kind of fear.
“Mom, listen to me. Lock the doors.”
“They're already locked.”
“Where are you now?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Are you alone?”
Another silence.
“Mom?”
“I think so.”
Amara's heart stopped.
“What do you mean, you think so?”
Her mother whispered:
“I heard someone walking upstairs.”
Amara closed her eyes.
“Call the police.”
“I already did.”
“Then leave the house.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
The sound of a door opening came through the phone.
Slowly.
Creeeeeeak.
Amara froze.
“Mom?”
No answer.
“Mom!”
A whisper came through the phone.
It wasn't her mother.
“Amara.”
Her blood turned cold.
Lena.
The call ended.
“Mom!”
Amara called back immediately.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
No answer.
She called again.
Still nothing.
“Amara.”
Nneka grabbed her shoulders.
“Look at me.”
Amara shook her head.
“I have to go home.”
“You don't even know what's happening there.”
“That's my mother!”
“I know.”
“She could be in danger!”
“Then call the police from here.”
Amara dialed.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
No service.
She stared at her phone.
“What?”
Nneka checked hers.
Her face changed.
“No signal.”
The classroom lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then darkness.
Amara screamed.
“Stay close,” Nneka whispered.
Amara turned on her phone torch.
The beam cut through the darkness.
Dust floated in the air.
The broken windows rattled.
Then Amara heard it.
Knock.
Her body went cold.
Nneka grabbed her hand.
“Don't answer.”
Knock. Knock.
The sound came from outside the classroom.
Amara looked toward the door.
“Who is it?”
Nneka's grip tightened.
“Amara!”
“What?”
“Don't speak to it.”
Amara swallowed.
Then they heard a voice.
A voice Amara knew.
“Please.”
She stopped breathing.
Lena.
Nneka slowly turned toward her.
Amara shook her head.
“Don't.”
The voice came again.
“Amara, please.”
Amara's eyes filled with tears.
The handle moved.
Nneka raised the broken chair she had picked up from the floor.
“Stay behind me.”
Knock.
“Amara.”
The voice was crying now.
“Please open the door.”
Amara covered her mouth.
She remembered Lena's funeral.
The white flowers.
The photograph beside the coffin.
Her mother collapsing to the floor.
She remembered holding Lena's favourite necklace.
She remembered telling herself over and over:
My sister is dead.
The voice outside the door whispered:
“I didn't die.”
Amara dropped her phone.
The torch rolled across the floor.
For one second, the room was illuminated.
And Amara saw something standing behind Nneka.
A tall shadow.
Amara screamed.
“NNEKA!”
Nneka spun around.
The shadow was gone.
The classroom door burst open.
A girl stumbled inside.
Amara screamed again.
“Zara!”
Zara was crying.
Her clothes were wet.
Her face was pale.
She looked exhausted.
Amara ran toward her.
“What happened?”
Zara grabbed her.
“Where were you?”
“What?”
“I called you!”
“I know!”
“You didn't answer!”
“My phone—”
“Amara.”
Zara pulled away.
Her eyes moved to Nneka.
Then her face changed.
“Why is she here?”
Amara looked between them.
“You know each other?”
Nneka said nothing.
Zara took a step backward.
“No.”
“Nneka?” Amara asked.
“Who is she?” Zara demanded.
“She lives in Kingsley Hall.”
Zara stared at Nneka.
“You're lying.”
Amara frowned.
“What?”
Zara pointed at Nneka.
“She doesn't live in Kingsley Hall.”
Nneka's expression didn't change.
Amara felt cold.
“Zara, what are you talking about?”
“Amara, I saw her picture.”
Nneka finally spoke.
“Zara.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Don't.”
Zara ignored her.
“She's one of them.”
Amara turned toward Nneka.
“One of who?”
Zara pulled out her phone.
The screen was cracked.
She opened a photograph.
Amara looked at it.
The same black door.
The same old hallway.
Several students stood in front of it.
Amara looked closer.
Her heart stopped.
Nneka was standing in the photograph.
Amara slowly raised her eyes.
“That photo was taken twenty years ago.”
Nneka smiled.
It was the first time Amara had seen her smile.
But something about it was wrong.
“I know,” Nneka said.
Amara stepped away.
“You said you were looking for the truth.”
“I am.”
“You said your friend disappeared.”
“She did.”
“Victoria.”
“Yes.”
“Twenty years ago?”
Nneka's smile faded.
“No.”
The lights flickered again.
Zara grabbed Amara's hand.
“Get away from her.”
Amara didn't move.
“Nneka.”
Nneka looked down.
“I told you that I saw the door three months ago.”
Amara stared at her.
“You lied?”
“No.”
Nneka slowly looked up.
“I never said that was the first time.”
The classroom became silent.
Amara felt something inside her chest break.
“What are you?”
Nneka's face changed.
And for the first time, she looked afraid.
“I don't know.”
The windows exploded.
Glass shattered across the floor.
Zara screamed.
A freezing wind rushed into the classroom.
The black door appeared again.
But this time—
It was already open.
Darkness waited behind it.
Then someone walked out.
One step.
Amara froze.
A hand appeared.
Then a white dress.
Long black hair.
The girl slowly lifted her head.
Amara stopped breathing.
It was Lena.
Not the eyeless thing.
Not the voice.
Lena.
Exactly as Amara remembered her.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same scar above her eyebrow.
“Lena?”
Her sister smiled.
Amara started crying.
“Lena.”
She moved toward her.
Nneka grabbed her.
“No!”
Amara pulled away.
“Let me go!”
“Don't go near her!”
“She's my sister!”
Zara shouted:
“Amara, look at her!”
Amara stopped.
Something was wrong.
Lena wasn't moving.
Not even blinking.
She was simply standing there.
Watching.
Then her mouth opened.
“Amara.”
Amara took another step.
“It's me.”
“Prove it.”
Lena's face went still.
Amara's heart pounded.
“Prove you're my sister.”
Silence.
Then Lena smiled.
A cold smile.
“You don't remember me?”
“I do.”
“Then why did you leave me?”
Amara stopped breathing.
Lena's eyes filled with tears.
“You promised.”
Amara's face went pale.
A memory entered her mind.
The night of the accident.
Rain hitting the windscreen.
Lena screaming.
The car turning.
A voice calling Amara's name.
Then—
Nothing.
“I didn't leave you,” Amara whispered.
Lena stepped forward.
“Yes, you did.”
The room shook.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
“You woke up.”
Amara couldn't breathe.
“You saw me.”
Her memories began to return.
The rain.
The broken glass.
Blood.
Lena trapped inside the car.
Amara crawling through the shattered window.
Lena crying.
Amara standing outside.
And then—
Walking away.
“No.”
Amara backed away.
“No.”
Lena's voice broke.
“You left me in the car.”
“I came back.”
“No.”
“I did!”
“You never came back.”
Amara screamed.
The black door slammed shut.
The classroom returned to normal.
The wind stopped.
The lights came back.
Lena was gone.
Amara fell to her knees.
Nneka rushed toward her.
“Amara!”
“I left her.”
“No.”
“I remember.”
“Amara, that thing is making you remember things wrong.”
“I left her!”
Zara knelt beside her.
“Amara.”
“She was alive.”
Nneka froze.
Amara looked at them.
“My sister was alive.”
No one spoke.
Then Zara's phone vibrated.
Once.
Twice.
She looked down.
Her face turned white.
“What is it?” Amara asked.
Zara didn't answer.
“What is it?”
Slowly, Zara turned the phone toward them.
It was a message.
From an unknown number.
I KNOW WHAT AMARA DID.
Below it was a photograph.
Amara's hands began to shake.
The photograph showed the night of the accident.
A crashed car.
Rain.
Lena trapped inside.
And Amara standing outside.
Looking directly at the camera.
Then another message appeared.
MIDNIGHT.
Everyone in the room stared at the screen.
Then one final message arrived.
BRING HER BACK TO ME.
The lights went out.
A voice whispered from somewhere in the darkness.
Not Lena.
Not the thing behind the door.
A man's voice.
Low.
Angry.
And much closer than Amara expected.
“Amara…”
She froze.
The voice whispered again.
“Do you remember me?”
And suddenly—
Amara remembered her father's voice.
But her father had been dead for six years.
END OF CHAPTER 4
