Chapter 3 - The Blue Room
Daniel insisted Emma stay with their neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez.
Emma protested until Claire knelt in front of her.
“If that girl comes back to the window, you call me. You do not go outside.”
Emma nodded reluctantly.
Claire and Daniel crossed the street under one umbrella.
The front gate of Hawthorne House groaned.
Up close, the property looked less abandoned than Claire expected.
The lawn was overgrown, but not wild.
One path through the weeds had been recently flattened.
Daniel noticed too.
“Someone has been coming here.”
The porch boards creaked beneath them.
The front door was locked.
Claire tried the brass handle.
Nothing.
Then she saw something white tucked beneath the door.
A folded piece of paper.
She opened it.
Three words were written inside.
SIDE CELLAR DOOR.
Daniel looked toward the rear of the house.
“I don’t like this.”
Claire almost laughed.
“I stopped liking this eighteen years ago.”
They found the cellar entrance behind the kitchen wing.
The padlock hung open.
Inside, stone steps descended into darkness.
Daniel used his phone flashlight.
Dust coated the shelves, but fresh footprints marked the floor.
Small footprints.
And adult ones.
Claire followed them upstairs.
They emerged into an old pantry.
The interior smelled of damp wood and plaster.
Furniture remained beneath white sheets.
Pictures had been removed from the walls, leaving pale rectangles behind.
Claire remembered everything.
The grandfather clock.
The archway.
The staircase.
“I lived here,” she whispered.
Daniel looked at her.
“For how long?”
“Until I was sixteen.”
She had buried that too.
Claire climbed the staircase.
Halfway up, she stopped.
A memory struck her.
Sophie racing down these stairs with Snowdrop tucked beneath one arm.
Peter laughing behind her.
Margaret shouting that children should never run indoors.
Normal memories.
Before everything broke.
At the top of the stairs, a narrow corridor stretched ahead.
The last door was painted faded blue.
Claire pushed it open.
A child’s bedroom.
Blue walls.
White curtains.
A wooden bed.
And dozens of drawings taped everywhere.
Two sisters.
A house.
A rabbit.
A man in glasses.
Claire stepped closer.
The drawings were old.
Crayon brittle.
Paper yellowed.
One showed Margaret handing a folder to Victor Hale.
Another showed Peter shouting.
Another showed Sophie hiding beneath a table.
Daniel picked up a page.
In a child’s handwriting:
Mom says Daddy stole money. Daddy says Victor did.
Claire’s skin prickled.
Then a floorboard creaked behind them.
Daniel spun.
Nothing.
“Someone’s here.”
They searched the hallway.
Empty.
Claire returned to the room.
A small wooden desk stood beneath the window.
The same window where Emma had seen the girl.
On the desk sat Snowdrop.
Claire stopped breathing.
“Daniel.”
He approached.
The rabbit had been placed carefully beside a photograph.
Claire picked up the photograph.
Two teenage girls?
No.
One teenager.
One child.
Claire recognized herself immediately.
Sixteen.
Beside her stood nine-year-old Sophie holding Snowdrop.
Someone had written a date on the back.
June 14, 2008.
Exactly eighteen years ago.
Daniel picked up the rabbit.
Something rattled inside.
Claire looked at him.
“It never did that.”
Daniel felt along the seam.
A section had recently been opened and loosely restitched.
He removed a tiny brass key.
Claire stared.
A sound came from the closet.
Daniel stepped in front of her.
“Come out.”
Silence.
“Now.”
The closet door opened.
A young woman stood inside.
Twenty-seven, perhaps.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
Terrified eyes.
Claire knew her before logic had time to catch up.
The same eyes as the child in her memories.
“Sophie?”
The woman started crying.
Claire could not move.
Sophie Mercer covered her mouth.
“Hi, Claire.”
Claire crossed the room in three steps and slapped her.
The sound cracked through the blue room.
Daniel froze.
Sophie accepted it.
Claire’s entire body shook.
“Eighteen years.”
“I know.”
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“You were alive.”
Claire hit Sophie again, weaker this time, then grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace.
Both sisters collapsed against each other.
Claire sobbed.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Sophie’s answer came against her shoulder.
“Because Dad said they would destroy you too.”
“Who?”
Sophie lifted her face.
“Mom and Victor.”
Daniel went still.
Claire noticed.
Sophie noticed too.
Her expression changed.
“You brought him?”
Claire looked at Daniel.
“My husband?”
Sophie stepped away.
“Claire, Daniel has worked for Victor for years.”
Claire’s heart dropped.
Daniel said, “That doesn’t mean—”
Sophie pulled a folder from beneath the mattress and threw it onto the bed.
Inside were copies of emails.
Daniel’s name appeared on the first page.
Claire read one line.
We need Claire kept unaware of any Mercer beneficiary issue until demolition is complete.
Below it was Daniel’s reply.
Understood.
Claire looked up.
Daniel had no explanation ready.
Behind them came another creak.
A small face appeared in the hallway.
The mysterious girl.
She held the white bunny’s blue ribbon in one hand.
Sophie turned.
“June.”
Claire stared.
The girl from the window walked into the room and took Sophie’s hand.
May you like
Sophie swallowed.
“Claire… this is my daughter.”
