EPISODE 2: THE MAN OUTSIDE MY DOOR

My heart was beating so fast that I could barely breathe.

I stared at the message on my phone.

"HE IS STANDING OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR. DON'T OPEN IT!"

Three slow knocks came from the door.

"Sarah," my father's voice called softly. "Open the door, sweetheart."

I quickly switched off my phone and pretended to be asleep.

"Sarah, I know you're awake. I heard you talking."

I swallowed hard.

"Daddy, I'm sleeping," I replied, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

There was silence for a few seconds.

Then he said something that made the blood in my veins turn cold.

"Who sent you that message?"

My eyes widened.

How did he know about the message?

I hadn't told him anything!

"Daddy, what message?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

Instead, I heard his footsteps moving away from my door.

I waited until everything became quiet before checking my phone again.

There was a new message.

"Good. You didn't open the door. Now listen carefully. Go to your mother's old bedroom. Look underneath the mattress. You'll find something there."

My mother's old bedroom had been locked since the day she died.

My father had warned me never to enter it.

He always said the room contained painful memories and that we needed to move on.

But now, a message from my dead mother was asking me to enter it.

I had a choice to make.

And somehow, I knew my life would never be the same again.

At 1:17 a.m., I quietly left my bedroom.

The house was completely dark.

I tiptoed down the hallway until I reached my mother's door.

My hands trembled as I turned the handle.

To my surprise, it opened.

The room smelled exactly as I remembered it. Her perfume still lingered in the air, and her favourite blue curtains hung beside the window.

Tears filled my eyes.

"Mummy, if this is really you, please help me understand what's happening," I whispered.

I lifted the mattress.

There was a small brown envelope underneath it.

My name was written on the front in my mother's handwriting.

I opened it with shaking fingers.

Inside was a photograph of my mother standing beside a young man I had never seen before.

On the back of the photograph, she had written:

"Sarah, this is the man who knows the truth about your birth."

My breath caught in my throat.

My birth?

What could possibly be wrong with the story my parents had told me all my life?

Suddenly, I heard the front door slam.

Then my father's angry voice echoed through the house.

"WHO OPENED YOUR MOTHER'S ROOM?"

I froze.

Footsteps rushed towards the bedroom.

I grabbed the photograph and hid behind the curtains.

The door flew open.

My father entered, breathing heavily. He looked around the room, then walked straight to the mattress.

He lifted it.

The envelope was gone.

His face turned pale.

"No," he whispered. "She can't know. Not yet."

Then he pulled out his phone and made a call.

I heard every word.

"She's found the photograph," he said. "We have a serious problem."

He paused, listening to the person on the other end.

Then he said something I will never forget.

"If Sarah discovers who her real father is, we're all finished."

My knees nearly gave way.

My real father?

If the man who raised me wasn't my biological father, then who was?

Just then, my phone vibrated inside my pocket.

I looked down at the screen.

Another message from my dead mother.

"SARAH, RUN! YOUR FATHER KNOWS YOU'RE IN THE ROOM!"

I slowly raised my eyes.

My father was standing directly in front of the curtains.

And he was smiling.

"Come out, Sarah," he said quietly.

"There's something I've wanted to tell you for eighteen years."

TO BE CONTINUED… 😱💔