CHAPTER 4 The Voice In The Dark
"Who's there?" I asked as I clutched my bag tightly against my chest, fearing something from the dark might dive towards my heart and tear it into pieces. My arms wrapped around it like it was the only thing saving me from what lurked in the shadows. My fingers dug into the fabric. I was scared. Not just scared—I was terrified. My eyes darted into the darkness, searching for something, anything. But there was nothing, just the void staring back at me.
Then it came again—that screeching sound. Like old wood dragging across stone. It echoed so loudly in the hall that my ears rang. My heart skipped a beat. I pressed the bag harder to my chest, fearing something from that darkness would leap out and rip right through me. My mind kept imagining claws, long and sharp, coming straight for my heart. My knees felt weak. My legs shook beneath me.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps.
Boots.
Heavy boots.
The sound of the heels hitting the floor, slow and deliberate. They weren't walking fast. No. It was the kind of walking that made you feel watched. It was coming closer, step by step, like whoever it was had no reason to rush. I stepped back without thinking. One step. Then another. My back almost touched the wall.
"Who's there?" I asked again, my voice barely escaping my lips. It cracked at the end. My mouth was dry.
Then I heard it. A voice. A man's voice. But it was not gentle. It was not kind. It sounded like mockery, like laughter that did not match joy.
"How pathetic can you be... You're asking me and running backward like a pet dog."
His voice echoed around the hall. It was cold. Flat. Sharp like ice. My heart did slow a bit because at least it was a human. I could tell. But the way he spoke—it was worse. He did not sound normal. He sounded like someone who enjoyed fear.
I swallowed and forced myself to speak again. My mother told me once, when I was little and afraid of shadows, she said, 'Pretend you are brave. Even if you are not, pretend.' She said people believe what they see. So I tried. I tried to sound tough.
"I had to take a few steps back because I do not expect a human to stay in the dark side of the room. What are you trying to hide? Tell me!"
My words were bold but my lips trembled. My throat felt dry and tight. I could feel a tear escape my eye. My mother's face came into my mind. That soft smile of hers, even when she was in pain on her hospital bed. She had held my hand and told me to always stand tall.
The voice came again. This time slower. More direct.
"Do you want to see my face?"
I jumped at the sound. It came so suddenly, like a whisper and a threat at the same time.
I hesitated. But then I said, "Yes."
There was silence. A silence that was so thick that I could hear my own breath shaking. Then I heard the sound of footsteps again. One. Two. Three. The sound moved from the shadow. I watched with wide eyes.
Then I saw him.
He stepped into the light. The light hit his face like it had been waiting to show it. My eyes widened. My mouth opened a little. I forgot to breathe.
He was… beautiful. Not in a soft way. Not in a way that brought comfort. He was beautiful in a dangerous way. The kind of beauty that made you scared to look but unable to look away.
His eyes. Deep blue. Like oceans that held secrets. The kind of eyes that told stories without words. If you stared too long, you could fall into them and never return. His face was carved perfectly. His jaw was sharp. His lips were firm. But it was not just his looks. It was something more. The way he stood. The way his eyes held mine like he knew something I did not.
Then he spoke again.
His voice was calm now. Too calm.
"Why did you clutch your bag so tight on your chest?"
His words were simple. But the way he asked them made my blood freeze.
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
He took a step closer.
"Are you hiding something in there?"