Chapter 2
Chapter 2: The Girl in the Photograph
Maya's heart slammed against her ribs.
The figure at the bottom of the stairs stood completely still.
Rainwater dripped from its clothes onto the floor.
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
The sound echoed through the silent house.
For a moment, Maya couldn't move.
Then lightning flashed through a nearby window.
The hallway lit up for a fraction of a second.
The figure was a girl.
About Maya's age.
She wore an old-fashioned dark coat, and her long black hair hung wet against her shoulders.
But something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The girl wasn't looking at Maya.
She was staring at the locked door.
As if she was terrified of what was behind it.
Another crash came from inside the room.
The wood around the lock split further.
"Who are you?" Maya shouted.
The girl at the bottom of the stairs slowly raised one trembling hand.
Then pointed toward the locked room.
"No..." she whispered.
Her voice was barely audible.
"Don't open it."
Maya felt a chill crawl through her body.
Just moments ago, a frightened voice inside the room had begged for help.
Now a terrified girl was warning her to stay away.
Which one was telling the truth?
The house suddenly went silent.
Even the rain seemed to fade.
Then Maya noticed something lying on the floor beside the locked door.
A photograph.
She was certain it hadn't been there before.
Slowly, she picked it up.
The image was old and faded.
It showed a family standing in front of the house.
A man.
A woman.
And a young girl.
Maya's breath caught.
The girl in the photograph was the same girl standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same coat.
But there was a date written on the back.
October 12, 2006.
Twenty years ago.
Maya looked down the staircase.
The girl was gone.
The space was empty.
Only darkness remained.
A sudden scream exploded from inside the locked room.
"HELP ME!"
The voice sounded desperate.
Panicked.
Human.
Without thinking, Maya grabbed a broken piece of wood from the floor and struck the damaged lock.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The lock snapped.
The door flew open.
Maya rushed inside.
The room was empty.
No furniture.
No windows.
No person.
Nothing.
Only dust.
And in the center of the room stood a single wooden chair.
On the chair rested a leather diary.
Maya stared at it.
The scream had come from inside this room.
She was certain of it.
Yet there was no one there.
Hands shaking, she opened the diary.
The first page read:
"My name is Emily Hart."
Maya turned the page.
Her blood ran cold.
"If someone is reading this, it means the voice has trapped another person."
The next pages were filled with frantic handwriting.
Emily described strange whispers.
Footsteps.
A voice that copied the voices of other people.
A voice that could make itself sound scared, injured, even familiar.
A voice that lured people into opening doors.
At the bottom of the final page was a message written in large, shaky letters.
DO NOT LISTEN TO THE VOICE.
IT IS NOT A PERSON.
IT IS NOT TRAPPED.
IT WANTS TO BE LET OUT.
Maya slowly lowered the diary.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Behind her, the door creaked.
She turned.
A shadow stood in the doorway.
Tall.
Thin.
Completely black.
No face.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Yet a familiar voice filled the room.
Her own voice.
"Maya..."
The shadow took a step forward.
And smiled.
Even though it had no face.
To be continued...
