Whispers behind Locked Doors

The Echoes of the Past

Clara's pulse hammered in her ears as she stepped away from the mirror, her mind reeling with the image of Emily trapped within its glassy surface. The silence in the room pressed in on her, thick and suffocating, as though the air had turned to stone. Every fiber of her being screamed to run — to leave the mansion, to escape the heavy, oppressive weight of the secrets that seemed to seep from the very walls.

But she couldn't run. Not yet. Not until she understood what was happening here.

Vivienne stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and guilt. "Clara... I... I don't know how to explain it. It's been this way for so long. The mirror — it shows things, Clara. Things no one should see."

Clara turned to face her, her mind spinning with confusion. "What are you talking about? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't know who to trust," Vivienne whispered, her voice thin and brittle. "Thomas... He became obsessed with it. The mirror was everything to him. And then, when Emily started seeing things too... it broke her. It destroyed us all."

The weight of Vivienne's words hit Clara like a physical blow. She could feel her stomach twist with nausea as she pieced the fragments of the story together. *The mirror had been a part of this family's madness long before Emily disappeared.*

But it wasn't just the mirror that Clara had to fear. It was what it represented. The house itself seemed to hum with a malignant energy, as though the very foundation of the Cartwrights' home had been corrupted, infected with something dark. And the more Clara uncovered, the more she realized that Emily hadn't been the first to feel its grip.

*How many other lives had been lost to this place?*

"I need to know everything," Clara said, her voice unwavering despite the fear gnawing at her insides. "Tell me what happened to Emily. Tell me what you and Thomas did with the mirror."

Vivienne hesitated, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for the right words. Then, with a resigned sigh, she walked deeper into the room, her steps slow, deliberate. She moved as though the weight of the years was too much to bear.

"We moved here when Emily was just a baby. Thomas always had an interest in the occult, in things that most people would call superstitions. But when he found the mirror — that's when everything started to change." Vivienne's voice faltered as she continued, her gaze distant. "He said it was a family heirloom, something passed down from generations. But I don't think he ever told me the truth about where it came from. It wasn't just a mirror — it was something more. Something... alive."

Clara shivered at the words. The air in the room felt colder, more suffocating, as if the very walls of the mansion were listening to Vivienne's confession, pulling them deeper into the mystery.

"Thomas said the mirror could show you things from the past. He believed it could reveal hidden truths, things buried deep within the walls of the mansion," Vivienne continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "But when Emily started to grow older, she began seeing things in it. And not just reflections of people — *things* — things that were never supposed to be seen."

Clara felt her breath catch in her throat. "What kind of things?"

Vivienne closed her eyes, her face twisted with a painful memory. "Shadows. Dark shapes. Figures moving in the background of the glass. And then... Emily started to see... someone else. A man. A stranger."

Clara's mind spun. "A man? Who?"

Vivienne's face paled further, and she took a step back, as though the very thought of him was enough to make her recoil. "I don't know. But he terrified her. She would scream at night, begging us to take her away from the mirror. But no matter how many times we tried to get rid of it, it always came back. The house... it wouldn't let us leave. It was as if it was *waiting* for something."

Clara's chest tightened. "Waiting for what?"

Vivienne met her gaze, her eyes filled with a haunted understanding. "For Emily. It wanted her."

Clara's thoughts raced as the full weight of Vivienne's words settled in. The house itself had become a prison, a trap designed to hold them all inside, feeding off their fear and desperation. The mirror, though — it wasn't just a part of the house. It was its heartbeat, its core, the thing that had bound them all to this cursed place.

But what did it want with Emily? Why had it taken her?

Clara couldn't help but wonder if there was more to this story — more than Vivienne was willing to tell.

"You said the mirror was passed down through generations," Clara said, her voice low, calculating. "Who did it belong to before Thomas?"

Vivienne's face went pale, her lips trembling. "I don't know. He never told me. He only said it had been in his family for centuries... that it was part of their legacy. But when Emily started to react so violently to it, Thomas became obsessed. He thought... he thought the mirror was the key to unlocking some greater power, something beyond our world. I begged him to stop, Clara, but he wouldn't listen. And that's when he became... *different*. Cold. Detached. Like he wasn't even the same man anymore."

Clara's thoughts spun, trying to process the information. It was clear now that Thomas had been caught in the mirror's grip long before Emily. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Emily's disappearance wasn't a random event. It was part of a much larger, darker story — a story that had been playing out long before she had even known about the Cartwrights.

Suddenly, Clara felt a sharp pain in her head, a dizzying sensation that made her knees weak. She staggered slightly, grabbing onto the doorframe for support. A low, guttural voice echoed in her ears — soft, distant, yet unmistakable.

*"She belongs to us."*

Clara's heart skipped a beat as the voice seemed to reverberate from within the house itself, echoing through her mind. The temperature in the room dropped, and she felt the walls close in around her. She looked around, but there was no one there. Only Vivienne, who had stepped back, her face filled with a mixture of horror and sorrow.

"What was that?" Clara gasped, trying to steady herself.

Vivienne's face had drained of all color. "No... It's happening again. *It* has found you, Clara. You have to leave now."

But it was too late. The mansion had already begun to stir, its walls creaking and groaning as if they were alive. Clara could feel the weight of something watching her from the darkness.

And she knew, deep down, that there was no escaping it. Not anymore.