Whispers behind Locked Doors

The Unseen Hand

Clara's heart raced as the voice — low, guttural, and dripping with malice — echoed through her mind again. *"She belongs to us."* The words reverberated like a chant, growing louder with every passing second, swirling around her until she couldn't tell where the voice ended and the cold air of the mansion began.

Vivienne was standing at the far end of the room, her face pale, eyes wide with terror. "You *heard* it, didn't you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, shaking with fear. "The voice... It's real, Clara. It's never been just in my head."

Clara nodded, her mouth dry. The chill in the room was now unbearable, the walls seeming to close in on her as if the mansion itself was suffocating her. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to leave — to run away from this cursed house, to get as far away as possible from whatever was lurking within its walls. But she knew, deep down, that there was no running anymore. The house had already claimed her, just as it had claimed Emily, just as it had claimed so many before them.

"Who's *it*?" Clara asked, her voice hoarse, barely able to steady herself. "Who's saying that?"

Vivienne's lips trembled, and she turned away, as if ashamed to speak the truth. Her hands shook at her sides, and for a moment, Clara wondered if she might collapse under the weight of her own fear.

"It's the thing that's been haunting this house for generations," Vivienne whispered, her voice distant, almost robotic, as though the words had been burned into her memory. "It's not just the mirror. The mirror is only a *window* — a portal, if you will, to the things that lie beyond. The things we were never meant to see. But the house itself... It *feeds* off fear, Clara. It's alive in a way no one can explain. And it wants Emily... it wants to take her back."

Clara's mind raced as Vivienne's words sank in. A portal. Something *beyond*. The mansion wasn't just a house — it was a living, breathing entity, and the mirror was its way of reaching out. The things in the mirror weren't reflections at all; they were windows into another world, one that Clara could not yet understand.

But Emily had understood it. Emily had seen it.

"Did Thomas know?" Clara asked, her voice trembling with urgency. "Did he know about all of this? The house, the mirror... everything?"

Vivienne's eyes flickered with a deep, painful memory. She closed her eyes tightly, and Clara could see the weight of guilt bearing down on her. She didn't need to speak the words for Clara to understand the answer.

"Yes," Vivienne said softly, her voice breaking. "He knew. But he *chose* to ignore the warnings. He thought he could control it. He thought that by understanding it, by *mastering* it, he could gain power — control over life and death. But it was never meant to be controlled."

Clara's blood ran cold. *Power over life and death?* What had Thomas unleashed in this house? What had he done to Emily? To the others before her?

Vivienne's eyes darted around the room, her hand trembling as she reached for Clara's arm. "The mirror is part of it, Clara. But it's only a tool. The house itself... it's a prison. A place where time bends and breaks, where the dead can return if the house wills it. And Emily... she didn't just disappear. She was taken."

Clara's breath caught in her throat. "Taken?" she whispered. "By what?"

Vivienne swallowed hard, a look of pure terror in her eyes. "By the thing that's been lurking here for generations. By *him*."

Clara's mind reeled, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of information. She had known that something dark and twisted was at the core of Emily's disappearance, but she hadn't fully understood the depth of the evil that was at play. She had no idea what to expect from this house anymore.

Just then, a loud bang echoed from somewhere deep within the mansion — a sound so violent that it made the floor beneath Clara's feet tremble. Clara and Vivienne both jumped, their bodies instinctively recoiling. It was the unmistakable sound of a door slamming open — followed by the sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, pacing the halls.

Vivienne's eyes went wide with panic. "It's him," she whispered, her voice barely audible, shaking with terror. "He's awake again. *The presence*. The one who's been here long before Thomas, before me, before anyone. He's been waiting, Clara. He's been waiting for the right moment."

Clara's mind spun as the footsteps grew louder, closer. She could hear them now, their rhythm growing faster, almost frantic. And with each step, the air grew colder, heavier, suffused with an oppressive, unnatural presence.

Suddenly, the door to the room slammed shut on its own, throwing Clara back. She hit the floor with a sharp gasp, but before she could scramble to her feet, the room went pitch black. The darkness was so thick, so complete, that Clara could hardly breathe.

Then, a single, flickering light illuminated the room — a dim, wavering glow coming from the mirror. But it wasn't the reflection of Clara that she saw this time.

It was Emily.

Clara's heart nearly stopped as she saw the image of her childhood friend staring back at her, but it wasn't the same Emily. The girl in the mirror had hollow, empty eyes, her face gaunt and pale. Her mouth opened, as if trying to speak, but no sound came out.

*She's trapped,* Clara realized, her mind screaming in horror. *She's trapped inside the mirror, just like the voice said. She belongs to them now.*

The reflection of Emily slowly began to fade, the figure retreating into the blackness of the glass. But before she disappeared entirely, her lips parted once more, and Clara could hear a single, broken whisper escape from the glass.

*"Help me..."*

Clara's blood ran cold. That was no longer Emily. It was something else — something far more sinister. And whatever it was, it was calling to her, pulling her into its world.

With a burst of adrenaline, Clara scrambled to her feet and rushed to the door, throwing her weight against it. The door didn't budge.

Panic surged through her as she pulled at the door's handle, but it was useless. She was trapped in the room with the mirror. And as the light flickered again, the reflection in the mirror changed once more — this time, Clara saw a dark figure, standing just behind her, its silhouette barely visible in the dim glow.

The figure wasn't Emily.

It was Thomas.