You may not know who you are. –Michelle Liew
Part 1 is here
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Lina’s fingers wound around the photograph, clutching it. Hard. She couldn’t get past the resemblance. The man in the photo. Future Eric.
But how?
The air in the apartment had never been warm, but it was now ice in her lungs.The cold clenched her troat. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating, as Eric stared at the picture without a word. His tiny fingers caressed its aged surface. Slow. Deliberate. Almost reverent.
A little too lovingly.
He shouldn’t have known that face. Shouldn’t have any idea who it was. But his eyes darkened–they were too old for a child’s.
Then he whispered softly:
“I remember now.”
It was not his voice. Not entirely.
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The little boy started to speak–unclearly.
About things he shouldn’t have known. He described his mother’s room, how she laughed–how she bawled ceaselessly when they “came for her.” His voice sounded far away, as if he was recalling a dream.
“She begged them not to take me,” Eric murmured. “But they don’t listen.”
His voice shifted, as though two of him were speaking at once. One was the little boy in front of her–the other was someone ancient. Menacing.
The baby monitor came to life again. This time, the whispering wasn’t far away–it was right next to her ear.
She stumbled back. The closet door gaped open, like a ravenous mouth, spilling shadows into the room. A breath of cold air rushed out of it, along with a scent of damp earth and something–rotten. Eric didn’t look at her anymore. He was looking past her.
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Lina grabbed Eric, ready to run–but the little boy resisted.
He smiled a smile that was a mix of innocence and knowing.
“Mom.” His voice was a soft plea and a commanding threat. “She’s here.”
Then, her name. In urgent, resounding whispers. “Sophie Lew. Sophie Lew.”
They rose, becoming deafening–“SOPHIE LEW!”
The photograph in her grasp had changed. It was no longer Eric, but a grainy picture of her–Sophie.
Screams. Her screams.
The closet slammed shut.
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Lina shook the six-year-old awake. But he never remembered anything.
The once-angry scratches on his arms were gone. In dawn’s light, something seemed different.
The apartment felt–lighter. The whispers had stopped. But the silence was worse.
Her missing person file was now–empty. She, Sophie, was free. As if someone had taken her place.
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Lina’s breath came in punctured gasps. She backed away from the file, hands quivering. The truth pressed down on her, a heavy stone slab. Wrapping her. Suffocating.
She had answers to who the missing girl was– but she did not want to believe them.
Eric stretched, rising from bed. As if nothing had happened. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
She tried to speak, but her throat ran dry. She stared at Eric, open-mouthed. She had no words.
And the apartment was quiet. Too still.
Then, the baby monitor came to life. Dissonant, but familiar.
Lina swiveled, and Eric was standing in front of her, his eyes wide.
But his lips were not moving.
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