The Girl with the Knife 🗡️ 3

Part Three — The Locked Room She waited until her mother left the room. Then she followed her. Quietly. Her mother walked down the hallway, entered the kitchen, and closed the door behind her. She stood outside, listening. At first, there was silence. Then she heard her mother crying. Not loudly. Just quiet, broken sobs. She slowly opened the door. Her mother was standing beside the old cupboard beneath the kitchen window. “Mum?” Her mother spun around. “What are you doing here?” “What happened to the little girl?” Her mother's face went pale. “I told you not to ask me about her.” “Who was she?” “Go upstairs.” “Mum, please.” “Go upstairs!” She had never heard her mother shout like that. She stepped backward. Then she noticed something. The cupboard behind her mother had a tiny padlock on it. “What is inside there?” Her mother immediately stood in front of it. “Nothing.” “You're lying.” Her mother's eyes filled with tears. “Please.” That single word stopped her. Then her mother whispered: “You were never supposed to remember.” Her heart sank. “Remember what?” Her mother looked toward the staircase. Then back at her. “The night your sister died.” Silence. She couldn't speak. “My... sister?” Her mother nodded slowly. “One night. Seventeen years ago.” “But you said I don't have a sister.” “I lied.” “Why?” Her mother looked at the locked cupboard. “Because you killed her.” The room seemed to tilt. “No.” “You were only two years old. You didn't understand what you were doing.” “No…” “You picked up the kitchen knife.” She covered her ears. “Stop.” “You stabbed her.” “STOP!” Her mother began crying. But then something strange happened. From inside the locked cupboard came a tiny sound. Knock. Both of them froze. Another knock. Knock. Her mother stared at the cupboard. “No…” The girl slowly stepped toward it. “Mum…” Her mother grabbed her arm. “Don't open it.” Another knock. Then a little girl's voice came from inside. Soft. Almost playful. “She's lying.” Her mother screamed. And the girl realized something terrifying. The voice wasn't coming from inside the cupboard anymore. It was coming from behind her. She turned. The little girl was standing in the kitchen doorway. Holding the knife. And smiling. “She didn't tell you the worst part.” Part 4...........

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