The Girl with the Knife 🗡️ 6️⃣

Part Six — Seventeen Years Ago She didn't sleep. At least, she tried not to. She sat on the floor with her back against the bed, every light in the room turned on. Her mother's warning kept replaying in her mind. “Don't fall asleep.” 3:00 a.m. Nothing. 3:11. Nothing. 3:16. Her eyes began to burn. She slapped her cheeks gently. “Stay awake.” 3:17. The bedroom light went out. She froze. The darkness was absolute. Then— Chop. Her heart stopped. The sound came from downstairs. Chop. She grabbed her phone and turned on the flashlight. The screen showed: 3:17 a.m. She stood. Every instinct told her to stay in the room. But something inside her whispered: Go. She opened the door. The hallway was empty. She walked downstairs. One step. Two. Three. The kitchen door was open. She raised her phone. The light revealed the chopping board. Two carrots. A knife. And something else. A small red ribbon. She picked it up. The moment her fingers touched it—everything disappeared. The kitchen. The house. The darkness. She was standing in a different room. A little girl was sitting on the floor. She couldn't have been more than two years old. Beside her was another little girl. Her. Two identical children. Twins. They were playing hide-and-seek. The little girl laughed. “Your turn!” Her younger self ran away. Amy covered her eyes. “One…”“Two…”“Three…” The vision suddenly changed. Their mother rushed into the room. She was screaming. “WHERE IS AMY?” The little girl pointed toward the kitchen. “She's hiding.” Their mother ran. The girl followed. Then she saw it. A knife lying on the floor. Blood. Her mother screaming. And Amy—standing completely unharmed in the corner. But there was something terribly wrong. Amy's eyes were completely black. The vision shattered. She fell to her knees. “No…” A voice whispered behind her. “Now you remember.” She slowly turned. Amy stood there. Not as a little girl anymore. She looked exactly like her. Same face. Same hair. Same eyes. Except her dress was covered in blood. The girl could barely speak. “What are you?” Amy smiled. “Your first mistake was believing Mum.” “Then what happened that night?” Amy stepped closer. “You didn't kill me.” A pause. Then: “I killed you.” The girl stared at her. “What?” Amy leaned toward her ear. “You're the one who died seventeen years ago.” The phone slipped from her hand. The screen went black. And somewhere behind them, her mother's voice screamed: “DON'T LET HER TOUCH YOU!” Part Seven......

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