Chapter 2 – Someone in the Room
Lucy didn’t sleep well that night.
The house was too quiet.
In the city, silence had never existed. There had always been something—sirens in the distance, neighbors walking down the hallway, the distant rumble of buses passing through intersections. Even the hum of electricity through the apartment walls had created a kind of background noise that made the night feel alive.
But here, in the countryside, the silence felt heavy.
Lucy lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the old house. The wood creaked occasionally as the temperature dropped. Somewhere in the walls a pipe clicked softly, then went still again.
Every time a noise appeared, Lucy tried to convince herself it was normal.
Old houses always made sounds.
She repeated that thought over and over until her eyes finally closed.
Morning arrived slowly, sunlight filtering through pale curtains and spilling across the wooden floor.
Lucy woke to the sound of Emma moving around upstairs.
For a moment, everything felt ordinary again.
The strange conversation Lucy had heard the night before almost felt like a dream.
She got out of bed, stretched her stiff shoulders, and walked toward the kitchen.
Emma was already sitting at the table, eating cereal.
Her legs swung gently beneath the chair, and she looked perfectly calm.
Lucy poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
Emma nodded.
“Yeah.”
Lucy leaned against the counter, watching her daughter for a moment.
“Do you remember talking last night?”
Emma looked up.
“Talking?”
“In your room,” Lucy said casually. “I thought I heard you chatting with someone.”
Emma shrugged.
“I was just playing.”
Lucy studied her carefully.
“With who?”
Emma looked back down at her cereal bowl.
“No one.”
The answer came again—simple, quick, almost rehearsed.
Lucy felt that same strange discomfort crawl across the back of her neck.
Children had imaginary friends sometimes. That was normal.
Emma had never had one before, but moving into a new house could easily trigger that kind of imagination.
Lucy decided not to push further.
“Alright,” she said lightly. “Finish your breakfast.”
Emma nodded.
But as Lucy turned away, Emma spoke again.
“She’s nice though.”
Lucy stopped.
Slowly, she turned back.
“Who?”
Emma looked up again, as if surprised Lucy didn’t understand.
“The girl,” Emma said.
Lucy felt a small chill move down her spine.
“What girl?”
Emma pointed casually toward the wall behind her.
“The one in my room.”
Lucy stared at her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Emma simply returned to eating her cereal as if the conversation had already ended.
Lucy forced herself to breathe slowly.
Kids imagined things all the time. She knew that.
Still, the way Emma had said it—so calm, so matter-of-fact—made Lucy uneasy.
Later that day, Lucy continued unpacking boxes throughout the house while Emma played upstairs.
The afternoon passed quietly.
By evening, most of the kitchen had been organized, and the living room looked somewhat livable again.
Lucy cooked a simple dinner—pasta and vegetables—and the two of them ate at the small wooden table near the window.
Emma talked about school, about the new neighborhood, about how big the yard was.
She seemed happy.
Perfectly normal.
Lucy almost convinced herself she had imagined the strange conversation that morning.
After dinner, Emma returned upstairs to play while Lucy washed dishes.
Outside, darkness slowly settled over the trees.
The forest around the house turned into a wall of shadow.
By the time Lucy finished cleaning the kitchen, the entire house had fallen into quiet again.
Lucy turned off the lights downstairs and headed up the staircase.
The hallway upstairs was dim, lit only by a small nightlight near the bathroom.
As Lucy approached Emma’s bedroom, she heard it again.
A voice.
Emma’s voice.
Soft.
Whispering.
Lucy stopped outside the door.
Emma sounded like she was talking to someone again.
“…I know,” Emma whispered.
Lucy leaned closer.
“…Mom doesn’t know yet.”
Lucy felt her heartbeat quicken.
She slowly pushed the door open.
The whispering stopped instantly.
Emma sat on the floor beside her bed, holding a small toy horse.
She looked up at Lucy with the same innocent expression as before.
“Hi Mom.”
Lucy glanced around the room.
The corners were empty.
The closet door was closed.
The window was shut tight.
“Who were you talking to?” Lucy asked again.
Emma hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then she smiled faintly.
“No one.”
Lucy knelt beside her.
“Emma… earlier today you said there was a girl in your room.”
Emma nodded.
“There is.”
Lucy swallowed.
“Where is she now?”
Emma lifted one small hand and pointed.
Not toward the door.
Not toward the window.
Not toward the closet.
Emma pointed directly at the wall beside her bed.
Lucy followed the direction of her finger.
The wall looked perfectly normal.
Plain white paint.
Nothing unusual.
Lucy slowly turned back toward her daughter.
Emma’s eyes were still fixed on that same spot.
And she whispered quietly—
“She’s still there.”
