Fifteen.
I stayed completely still, controlling my breathing, until the silence began to feel “safe”… though in that house nothing was ever truly safe—only disguised as such.
Exactly at nine o’clock, as if the clock itself were an accomplice, I heard the first creak in the hallway.
Then another.
Footsteps.
Daniel was coming.
I lay sideways on the bed, just like always. I let one arm hang slightly off the mattress, like someone asleep. I opened my eyes just a sliver.
My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
The door opened without being pushed. Daniel had left it slightly ajar earlier and now slipped inside.
He wasn’t carrying the cup.
He was carrying a key.
An old, long black key with strange teeth—the kind meant for very old houses… or for doors that were never meant to open.
He walked to the bedside table, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. Slowly he unwrapped it.
A small glass bottle.
Inside were white tablets.
My throat went dry.
“Just valerian.”
I watched him place the bottle back, as if hiding a secret in his pocket. Then he walked over to the bed and leaned down, studying my face.
I held my breath.
Daniel reached for my wrist, searching for a pulse.
One.
Two.
Three seconds.
He smiled, satisfied, and stood up.
Then he did something that chilled my blood even more than the pills.
He walked to the wall.
The wall beside the wardrobe.
He ran his fingers across it, like someone who knew exactly where the seam of a hidden thing was.
He pressed.
A small click echoed in the darkness.
The wall… moved.
It wasn’t a normal door.
It was a panel.
