Whispers of the Lost

Chapter 8 : A Family's Silence

I stared at Grandma, trying to make sense of what she had just said. My mouth went dry, and the room felt suddenly too small, the air too thick. "Taken?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean, she was taken?"

Grandma's eyes were heavy with something I couldn't quite place—guilt, fear, maybe a mix of both. She sat down at the kitchen table, the chair creaking under her weight, and for a moment, I saw her not as my strong, stoic grandma, but as someone tired and worn out by secrets she had carried for far too long.

"Mia," she said softly, "there are things that happened before you were born. Things your parents and I... never wanted you to know."

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling up inside me. "Why? Why would you keep this from me? She's my sister, Grandma! I deserve to know what happened to her."

She sighed, rubbing her temples as if the words were too painful to say. "We thought we were protecting you. We thought we could keep you safe by leaving it in the past, but now..." She glanced at the letter still clutched in my hand, her eyes clouded with worry. "Now, it seems the past is coming back."

I sank into the chair across from her, my mind whirling. "What happened to Emma?"

Grandma hesitated, her gaze distant, as if she were looking back through years of memories she had tried to forget. "Emma was different from you, Mia. From the day she was born, there was something... strange about her. She could sense things, see things that no one else could. We thought it was just her imagination, but then..."

She trailed off, her voice cracking, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. "One night, when she was about your age, she started talking about shadows. She said they were watching her, following her, and that they wanted to take her away. We thought it was just a nightmare, but then she disappeared. Just like that."

A chill ran down my spine. I thought about the shadows I had seen in the library, the handprint on the window. Was Emma seeing the same things I was now?

"How did she disappear?" I asked, my throat tightening.

Grandma's lips trembled as she spoke. "She was in her room. We checked on her before bed, just like any other night, but when we woke up the next morning... she was gone. The window was open, and there were... marks. Dark marks on the window, just like the ones you found."

I glanced at the handprint I had photographed on my phone, a shiver running through me. It was exactly like the one Grandma described. "Did you call the police? What did they say?"

"We did everything we could," she said, her voice hollow. "But there were no leads, no signs of a struggle. It was as if she had just... vanished. The police couldn't explain it, and after a while, they stopped looking."

"But you didn't," I said, my voice firm. "You didn't stop."

Grandma shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "Of course not. She was my granddaughter. Your parents and I searched for years, but we never found anything. We even hired private investigators, but... it was like Emma had been erased. And then, the sightings started."

"Sightings?" I echoed, feeling like I was falling deeper into a dark, endless hole. "What do you mean?"

"People in town started saying they saw her," Grandma whispered, her voice barely audible. "In the woods, near the old church, sometimes even by the library. They said they saw a girl who looked just like Emma, wandering through the trees. But whenever anyone tried to get close, she would disappear. Like a shadow."

I felt a cold, creeping dread settle over me. "But... if people saw her, that means she's still out there, right? She's alive."

Grandma didn't answer right away. She just looked at me with those sad, knowing eyes, and it felt like she was seeing right through me. "I don't know, Mia. I want to believe she's alive, but..."

"But what?" I pressed, desperate for answers. "What aren't you telling me?"

She hesitated, and then she finally said, "There's a place, deep in the woods. A place people around here don't talk about, not anymore. It's called the Hollow, and some say it's where the shadows come from. The stories say it's where the forgotten are taken."

The Hollow. The word sent a jolt of fear through me, even though I didn't know why. It felt familiar, like I had heard it before, maybe in a dream. "And you think Emma was taken there?"

Grandma's face was pale, her hands trembling slightly. "I don't know, Mia. But the sightings always happened near the Hollow. And I think... I think the shadows have been trying to find their way back. To take someone else."

I swallowed, my throat dry. "Do you think they're trying to take me?"

Grandma didn't answer, but the look on her face was enough. It was like she was trying to protect me, to shield me from something terrible, but she couldn't lie anymore. "That's why we tried to keep you safe, Mia. We didn't want you to get caught up in this. But it looks like it's too late."

Later that night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind too full to let me sleep. The word "Hollow" echoed in my head, over and over, like a haunting melody I couldn't escape. What was it about that place that made it so important? And why did I feel like it was calling to me?

I rolled over, grabbing my phone, and opened the photo of the handprint again. I zoomed in, studying every smudge, every dark streak, trying to see if there was something I had missed. Then I looked at the note I had received that morning, the words scribbled in a messy, hurried hand.

"Find the forgotten before they find you."

Was it a warning? Or a threat?

I turned the paper over again, and that's when I noticed something I hadn't seen before—a faint, almost invisible mark at the bottom of the page, just below the last line. I squinted, holding it closer to the light, and slowly, the mark came into focus.

It was a symbol. A small, jagged circle with a line through it, like a broken ring. It looked familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had seen it before. I grabbed The Key to the Forgotten and started flipping through the pages, scanning for anything that resembled the symbol. My heart raced as I turned each page, and then I found it.

There, in the corner of a page covered in strange, looping symbols, was the exact same mark. A broken ring, just like the one on the letter.

I stared at it, trying to understand what it meant, but all I felt was a growing sense of dread. Whatever this symbol was, it wasn't just a random design. It was a sign, a clue. And it was connected to everything—the shadows, the handprint, Emma's disappearance.

I had to go back to the library. I needed more answers, and I wasn't going to find them by staying here. If the Hollow was where the shadows came from, then I had to find out why. And if it meant finding out what had happened to Emma, I had to go, no matter how scared I was.

As I lay there, staring at the symbol, I made a promise to myself. I was going to find out the truth, even if it meant facing the shadows head-on.

Because Emma was out there. Somewhere.

And I wasn't going to let the shadows take me without a fight.