BEHIND CLOSED DOORS — PART 3. - by ☘️Baby 🍀 Joy ☘️

“You've been behind that door before.” Amara stared at her aunt. For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Then Amara noticed something. Her aunt wasn't looking at her anymore. She was looking at the black door. “You're lying,” Amara whispered. Her aunt slowly shook her head. “No.” “Then why don't I remember?” Her aunt's lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she walked toward the door. Amara followed. “Where are you going?” Her aunt stopped with her hand inches away from the silver handle. “I need you to understand something.” She turned around. “That door was never meant to be opened by you.” Amara felt a chill run through her. “Why?” Her aunt looked terrified now. “Because the last time you opened it…” She paused. “…you didn't come back alone.” Amara's heart dropped. “What does that mean?” Her aunt reached for the handle. Before she could touch it— KNOCK. Both of them froze. The sound came from the other side. One knock. Then another. KNOCK. KNOCK. Amara stepped backward. Her aunt grabbed her wrist. “Don't.” The knocking stopped. Silence returned. Then a voice came from behind the door. A girl's voice. Soft. Almost familiar. “Amara…” Her blood ran cold. She looked at her aunt. “How does it know my name?” Her aunt's grip tightened. But she didn't answer. The voice came again. “Amara…” This time, it sounded closer. Almost as if the girl were standing directly against the door. “Please.” Amara swallowed. “Who are you?” Her aunt suddenly covered Amara's mouth. “Don't answer it.” But it was already too late. Something scratched slowly across the other side of the door. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Then the silver handle began to turn. Her aunt pulled Amara away. “It can't open from that side.” Amara stared at the handle. “But it's turning.” Her aunt's face went pale. “No…” The handle stopped. Silence. Then— CLICK. The door unlocked. Amara looked at her aunt. Her aunt whispered something that made Amara's stomach twist. “That's impossible.” The door opened by itself. Just a few inches. Darkness filled the gap. And inside that darkness stood a little girl. Wet hair. Bare feet. A white dress. Amara couldn't see her face. Then the girl slowly lifted her head. And whispered— “Why did you leave me here?” Amara stopped breathing. Because she recognized the voice. It was hers. The same voice she'd heard in her own dreams since she was a child. Her aunt suddenly screamed. “CLOSE THE DOOR!” Amara turned toward her. But her aunt wasn't looking at the girl anymore. She was staring at the wall beside the door. There, written in something dark and wet, were four words: AMARA WAS NEVER ALONE. And underneath them was a date. Tomorrow's date. Amara stared at it. Then the little girl smiled. And whispered— “You're finally remembering.”

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