Chapter 5 - Gabriel did not speak for almost a minute.Émilie kept staring through the café window long after the car disappeared.
“You saw her,” she said.
“I saw someone.”
“She had my mother's face.”
“People can resemble one another.”
“She said my name.”
Gabriel stood.
“We need to leave.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because every place you stay becomes dangerous.”
“Who was the woman?”
“I don't know.”
“You said my mother was dead.”
“She is.”
“Then explain her.”
Gabriel had no answer.
They left through the kitchen.
The city was nearly empty.
Émilie followed Gabriel to an underground parking garage.
A dark sedan waited beside a concrete pillar.
He opened the passenger door.
She didn't get in.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the place under your old house.”
“How?”
“We have to reach it before they do.”
“Who are they?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“The people who already know where you're going.”
They drove for thirty minutes.
The city thinned.
Old residential blocks replaced office towers.
Finally they stopped near a vacant lot.
Émilie recognized the street immediately.
She remembered playing there.
A garden.
A yellow house.
A swing.
Her mother's roses.
All gone.
Only broken concrete remained.
Gabriel pointed toward a drainage channel.
“The entrance is there.”
They climbed down.
At the bottom was a rusted metal grate.
Gabriel used the engraved key.
It opened.
Beyond it was a narrow tunnel.
Émilie switched on her flashlight.
The walls were covered in old children's drawings.
Butterflies.
Houses.
Dogs.
One drawing showed a girl holding a baby.
Below it was written:
ÉMILIE + LUCIE
Émilie froze.
“Who is Lucie?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
They continued.
The tunnel ended at a steel door.
Gabriel unlocked it.
Inside was a small room.
A bed.
A table.
A chair.
Several empty medicine bottles.
And a wall covered in photographs.
Émilie approached.
Her childhood.
Every birthday.
Every school ceremony.
Every trip.
Someone had been documenting her life.
Then she saw a photograph she had never seen.
She was six years old.
Standing beside another little girl.
The girl looked almost identical to her.
Same eyes.
Same hair.
Same smile.
On the back:
LUCIE, AGE 6.
Émilie turned toward Gabriel.
“I had a sister.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because she disappeared.”
“When?”
“The night your mother died.”
Émilie gripped the photograph.
“What happened?”
Gabriel lowered his eyes.
“Your mother was trying to save both of you.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Which one of us survived?”
Gabriel didn't answer.
The silence told her everything.
Émilie whispered:
“That's impossible.”
Suddenly the room's old telephone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Gabriel stared at it.
“Don't answer.”
The ringing continued.
Émilie picked up the receiver.
A woman's voice whispered:
“Émilie.”
“Who is this?”
“Your sister.”
Her legs nearly gave way.
The line went dead.
Gabriel looked terrified.
“You shouldn't have answered that.”
“You said my sister was missing.”
“She was.”
“Then who was that?”
Gabriel moved toward the door.
“We have to go.”
The steel door slammed shut.
A metal lock clicked from the other side.
Gabriel pulled at it.
Nothing.
Someone had trapped them.
A voice came through a speaker.
“Gabriel.”
He froze.
The speaker crackled again.
“You brought her to us.”
Émilie backed away.
“Who is that?”
The voice answered:
“Your mother.”
Gabriel looked at Émilie.
“No.”
The speaker came alive again.
“Émilie, don't be afraid.”
She stepped closer.
“Maman?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
A pause.
“Watching.”
“Why did you leave me?”
Silence.
Then:
“Because I chose the wrong daughter.”
May you like
The lights went out.
And somewhere in the darkness, a child began laughing.
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