Chapter 2: The door that wasn't there

The morning came without an apology, my eyes dyed red with exhaustion. I looked around then rested my gaze on the closet, something wasn't right but I just couldn't get my grip on it. Then it hit me, the memories started flooding in, the knocking, the dirt on the key something had happened but I just didn't know what. Then I saw it a gap so tiny that a regular person wouldn't be bothered about.

I gently murmured to myself, "I closed that door last night so how on earth-"

The door burst open abruptly, mom stood there with soft eyes but a faint smile crossed her face.

"Oh sweetheart how did you sleep last night" she asked politely like everything was fine.

“Fine,” I replied, pulling my blanket closer. “Why?”

Mum tilted her head slightly. “Why what, sweetheart?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Her faint smile remained, but something in her eyes changed. For a moment, she looked almost frightened. Then it disappeared so quickly that I wondered if I had imagined it.

“I’m your mother, Moona. Am I not allowed to ask how you slept?”

I shrugged and looked away. “Whatever.”

She stepped further into my room, her gaze wandering around before settling on my closet.

My stomach tightened.

“Did you come in here last night?” I asked.

Mum turned back to me. “Of course not. Why would I?”

I studied her face, searching for even the smallest sign that she was lying.

“Never mind.”

She walked towards my bed and gently brushed a strand of hair away from my face. Normally, I might have found it comforting. Today, it felt like she was trying to distract me.

“Get dressed, sweetheart. Breakfast is nearly ready.”

She turned to leave.

“Mum?”

She stopped in the doorway.

“Do you know anything about the door downstairs?”

For the first time that morning, her smile completely vanished.

The silence between us stretched.

“What door?” she whispered.

I stared at her.

“You know exactly which door.”

Her fingers tightened around the door handle. She glanced down the hallway, as though she was checking whether someone else had heard us.

Then she stepped back into my room and quietly closed the bedroom door.

“Moona,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “listen to me very carefully. Whatever you do, don't use that key again.”

My heart seemed to miss a beat.

I hadn't told her about the key.

I hadn't even told her I'd opened the door.

“How do you know about the key?” I asked.

Mum's eyes filled with something I couldn't quite understand. Was it fear or regret?

Before she could answer, three sharp knocks echoed from downstairs.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Mum went completely still.

And then, from somewhere beneath us, a voice called out.

“Moona?”

My blood ran cold.

It was Leo.

My brother's voice.

The brother who had been missing for three months.

Mum grabbed my wrist.

“Whatever you hear,” she whispered, “you must not answer him.”

Then the voice came again.

This time, it sounded closer.

“Moona, please. It's me.”

And from inside my pocket, the mysterious key began to grow warm.