Maya sat at her kitchen table, cradling her mug of coffee. The morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. The day felt ordinary, mundane even, but then again, everything had felt that way since her brother, Liam, went missing. It had been five years—five long years—since Liam disappeared without a trace. One day he was there, laughing in the kitchen with their mother, the next he was gone. No note, no message, no sign of struggle. The police had searched, the family had searched, but eventually, they gave up. “He’s gone,” the detective had said. “It’s as if he vanished into thin air.” Maya didn’t believe that. Not for a second. She couldn’t. That morning, as she checked her mailbox, she was surprised to find a letter addressed to her in Liam’s handwriting. She froze. The handwriting was unmistakable—the small, loopy letters that filled the page with a familiar comfort. The envelope was a little weathered, as if it had been traveling for a while. No return address. This is a joke, she thought. Someone is playing a sick prank. But her hands trembled as she opened it. The paper inside was thick, almost old-fashioned, and the letter itself was short, written in Liam’s unmistakable script. ————————- Maya, I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you everything before I left. I don’t have much time, but I need you to know something. There’s something I need you to find. It’s hidden in the attic. You’ll know what it is when you see it. Please, Maya. Don’t let them find it first. I’ll be waiting for you. Love, Liam ————————— Maya blinked. Her heart raced. What the hell? She stared at the words, her mind racing. The letter looked... real. It felt real. But how? Liam was gone. Everyone said he was gone. She hadn’t even had a funeral for him—just a memorial with the vague hope that, one day, he’d come back. Hidden in the attic? What could that possibly mean? And who was them? Her thoughts were a chaotic swirl of confusion and hope. What if this was a clue? What if Liam was still out there, alive?
Without thinking, she grabbed her coat, shoved the letter into her pocket, and headed for her parents' house. The attic had always been off-limits when they were kids. Maya remembered the dark, musty space with old furniture and boxes of forgotten memories. When she arrived at the house, everything felt the same—the worn front steps, the creaky door, the familiar smell of old wood. But now, everything seemed too quiet, too still. She made her way upstairs, the dust motes dancing in the slanted light. The attic door creaked as she opened it, revealing the old storage space. The wooden beams above her seemed to groan under the weight of time. Maya began rifling through boxes, her heart pounding with each passing second. What could Liam have hidden here? Her fingers brushed over old toys, clothes, and family photographs—nothing out of the ordinary. Then, she saw it. A small, weathered box tucked behind a stack of old books. She lifted it, feeling the weight of it in her hands. It was sealed with a piece of tape, and as she peeled it back, the lid creaked open. Inside the box was an old leather-bound journal—Liam’s journal. Her hands shook as she opened it to the first page, but the words weren’t what she expected. Instead of Liam’s neat handwriting, the pages were filled with something else—strange symbols, scrawled in dark ink. A quick glance at the first page made her stomach churn. But as she flipped through the journal, she noticed something even more unsettling: every time she turned a page, the ink seemed to shift. The letters rearranged themselves, like the journal was changing, adapting, responding to her. She stopped at the last entry. ——————————— July 19th, 2018 I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this from you. I’m sorry, Maya. I never meant for you to find out this way. But you must understand—I didn’t leave by choice. They’re watching me. They’ve been watching me for months, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. The day I disappeared, it wasn’t just some accident. It was planned. It was orchestrated. The attic is the key. There’s a door here—a door you’ve never noticed before. When you find it, you’ll understand. But you must be careful. The people who took me are still out there, and they will do anything to stop you from finding the truth. You need to trust me, Maya. Open the door. ————————————— Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up from the journal, scanning the attic in a new light. A door? What door? There had never been another door in the attic. Except... there was. Near the back corner, partially hidden behind an old wardrobe, she saw it. A door, almost invisible against the wall, so cleverly concealed that she never noticed it before. Her heart raced. Had this always been here? Maya moved toward it, her hands trembling as she reached for the handle. The door opened with a soft groan, revealing a small, dimly lit room beyond. Inside, there was nothing but a single, antique chair. But in the center of the chair was something else. A photograph of her, taken years ago, smiling at a family gathering. But in the photo, her eyes were different—strange, somehow. Darker. As if she wasn’t the one in the picture at all. Her pulse quickened. How is this possible? Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her, and the room went dark. The air felt thick, almost suffocating. Then, a voice spoke, soft and cold. “You shouldn’t have opened the door, Maya.” She turned to face the voice, but there was no one there. The room began to shift around her, twisting and warping. Her vision blurred. And in the corner of her mind, the words from the letter echoed again. I’ll be waiting for you.
