Too clean. Too still.
That’s when I broke.
Caleb pulled me close, his arm around my waist, holding me together when I thought I might fall apart.
Back at the house, the air greeted us like a closed book forgotten on a shelf—dusty, still, and full of silence.
It smelled like old paper, wood polish, and something faintly bitter, like time itself had settled into the walls.
We slipped off our coats in the entryway. The hooks by the door were still the same, though most were empty now.
I hadn’t really been back in years. Not to stay.
Not to look closely. The wallpaper had faded a little more, and the curtains hung like tired arms.
But it was the light that struck me—it felt colder now.
Sharper. Like the house knew something had changed and didn’t know how to comfort me.
One low note hummed out beneath my touch—soft and sour, slightly out of tune. It echoed in the quiet room like a question no one could answer.
“Kim, come here,” Caleb called from Dad’s study.
I followed his voice, heart already beating faster. He was standing near Dad’s big oak desk, a drawer half open behind him.
In his hand was a small, rusty key hanging from a faded blue ribbon.
“Any idea what this opens?” he asked.
I stared at it. My heart skipped.
“The basement,” I said. “It has to be.”
I nodded slowly, a strange feeling crawling up my spine.
“Dad always said it wasn’t safe. Old tools, maybe. Or wiring.
I thought it was just junk. Something he didn’t want me messing with.”
Caleb looked at me.
“Should we… check it out?”
My mouth felt dry.
I hesitated, but something inside pulled me forward.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Let’s see.”
We walked to the narrow door near the kitchen. I used to pass it every day as a girl.
It had always felt like part of the background—unimportant and off-limits.
Now it felt like the center of everything.
I held the key up to the lock, hands trembling just slightly.
Click.
The lock gave way.Continue reading…
