I staggered over to my bed and let myself unceremoniously collapse onto it. I felt the tension in my muscles relax ever so slightly as I allowed my body to deflate and sink into the mattress.
The day had been draining physically and mentally. I closed my eyes and felt the residual sting from the truth sessions buzz throughout my bloodstream. The pounding pain in my temple had ceased, replaced by a faint echo of all that I had endured.
Eventually I surrendered to sleep, quietly hoping that I could escape into the dreams I once thought too illusory.
Chapter 28
“When the soul sleeps, the truth wakes.”
- The Old Book
Laughter spilled through the hallway like sunlight. Mine and his—the kind of laughter that left your cheeks aching and your stomach sore.
“Willam!” I called, breathless, pressing my back to the wall as I peeked around the corner. “I’m going to find you!”
The floorboards creaked beneath my bare feet as I tiptoed down the narrow corridor of our mother’s house. The smell of old wood and lavender soap hung in the air—the scent of home.
Hide and seek. Our favorite game. He was always better at it than I was, even when I swore I’d beat him this time.
I darted into our bedroom first, flinging the quilts aside to check under the beds. Nothing. I yanked open the closet door, clothes brushing against my arms as I shoved them aside. Empty.
“Ugh!” I groaned, stomping my foot. “This isn’t fair, Willam! Where are you?”
Silence. Then—his voice.
“I’m here.”
It sounded close, but not too close. It was almost as if it had curled around the walls and whispered just for me.
“Come find me.”
I gritted my teeth and marched back into the hallway, determined. My gaze swept the old wallpaper, the framed sketches Mother hung with pride. Everything looked the same as always—until it didn’t.
At the far end of the hallway, there was a door I’d never seen before.
Rounded at the top, its wood was dark, weathered, and the handle was a smooth iron latch.
My feet faltered, toes curling into the floor as I froze.
That door didn’t belong here.
Not in my home.
“Willam?” I whispered, voice trembling.
“I’m here.”
It was the same voice—gentle, teasing. But now it seemed to hum from beyond that door, wafting like smoke under the crack.
Each step I took was heavy, as if the air had thickened around me. The boards groaned louder, stretching long, drawn-out creaks that made the hair rise on my arms.
I reached the door. My fingers hovered over the latch, slick with sweat.
“Willam?” I tried again, barely a breath this time.
“I’m here.”
The sound sent a shiver racing down my spine. Not fear exactly—something else. Something that beckoned me to go forward.
