Whispers behind Locked Doors

The Case Goes Cold

Days had passed since Clara had returned to the Cartwright mansion, and the eerie feeling in the house had only intensified. It was as though the walls were pressing in on her, the weight of the past too heavy to ignore. Vivienne had been quieter now, retreating into herself even more than before. Clara had spent hours scouring the mansion for any clues, but the more she looked, the less she understood. Each answer seemed to lead to more questions.

She had gone through old photo albums, read journals left behind by Emily, and even scoured old newspaper clippings in the town's archives. But nothing added up. Nothing made sense.

The note Emily had left behind still burned in Clara's mind. *"I'm scared. He's watching. I can't hide anymore."* Who was the *he* Emily had spoken of? Was it Thomas, or someone else? What did Emily know that no one else did?

It was on the fourth day of Clara's investigation when Vivienne finally broke down.

They were sitting in the parlor, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound between them. Vivienne hadn't spoken in hours. Clara had been staring at the collection of photos on the wall — a strange mix of family portraits and posed pictures, all looking strangely static. It wasn't until Clara turned to face Vivienne that she saw the tear-streaked face of the woman who had once been her friend.

Vivienne's eyes were red, her hands trembling in her lap. She looked up at Clara, her voice barely audible. "You don't understand, Clara. No one does."

Clara's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" she asked, leaning forward. "What don't I understand?"

Vivienne swallowed hard. "I thought I could protect Emily," she whispered. "But I couldn't."

Clara felt a chill creep up her spine. "Protect her from what?" she asked, her voice tight with urgency.

Vivienne looked away, her gaze flickering toward the window, as though afraid the answer might be waiting outside. "From him," she whispered, so softly that Clara almost didn't catch it. "From Thomas."

Clara leaned in. "What did he do?" she demanded. "What happened to Emily?"

Vivienne closed her eyes, her breath ragged as she fought to control the sobs that were threatening to break free. "He wasn't just controlling her. He was... obsessed. It was like he was trying to break her, bend her to his will. I saw it. I should have stopped it, but I didn't. I was too afraid of him."

Clara's pulse quickened. "What did you see?"

Vivienne hesitated, her fingers digging into the armrest. "I can't say," she said in a near whisper. "Not here, not now. But if you want to understand, you need to see the secret room."

Clara frowned, confusion flashing across her face. "What secret room?"

Vivienne stood up, her eyes cold as she stared out the window. "The one you'll never find unless you know where to look," she said softly. "It's hidden. It's been there all along, right under our noses."

Clara felt her heart race. "Where is it?" she demanded.

Vivienne didn't answer right away. She simply turned and walked toward the back of the house, heading toward the stairs that led to the upper floors. Clara hesitated, a cold feeling creeping into her chest. What was Vivienne not telling her?

Clara followed, her footsteps echoing through the silent halls of the mansion. As they moved past the familiar rooms, Clara felt the familiar chill return. The air was heavy, oppressive, as if the house itself were holding its breath.

Vivienne led Clara down a narrow hallway at the end of the house, a place Clara hadn't seen since her childhood. The walls were covered in dark, old wallpaper, the air musty with the scent of mold and decay.

They reached a door at the end of the hall — one that had always been locked. Vivienne stood before it, her hands trembling as she pulled out an old iron key from her pocket. She placed it in the lock and turned it slowly, the sound of the mechanism echoing in the silence.

The door creaked open to reveal a dark, cramped room. Clara stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight. The room was filled with old furniture, boxes, and stacks of papers — nothing particularly unusual. But what caught her attention was the strange, uncomfortable feeling that filled the air. There was something wrong about this room.

Vivienne moved toward a large, covered object in the center of the room. She hesitated, her fingers brushing the fabric as though it were a relic. Finally, she pulled it back, revealing a large, dusty mirror.

Clara frowned. "What is this?"

Vivienne's voice dropped to a whisper. "This is where it all started."

Clara took a step forward and stared at the mirror. It was huge, its frame dark and ornate, covered in dust and cobwebs. But something about it seemed... wrong. The reflection in the mirror wasn't quite right — it was as if it was distorting the room around it, warping the very air.

"It's the only thing he ever cared about," Vivienne said, her voice tinged with fear. "Thomas had this mirror installed when Emily was a little girl. He said it would help them see things, see beyond what was in front of them. But Emily... she hated it. She told me it wasn't just a mirror. It was a doorway. A doorway to something dark."

Clara's blood ran cold. "A doorway to what?"

Vivienne shook her head, her eyes wide with terror. "I don't know. But Emily found something. I think that's why she was so scared. I think that's why she ran."

Clara felt the weight of the room press against her. She looked back at the mirror, her mind racing. The reflection was... wrong. It was like it was showing something that didn't belong.

"Did Thomas know?" Clara whispered. "Did he know what Emily had discovered?"

Vivienne's hands clenched into fists. "Yes," she whispered. "And that's why she had to disappear."