Chapter 4 - The Voice That Should Have Been Gone
The voice came from the hallway.
"Elena..."
I stopped breathing.
Nobody moved.
Not the woman beside me.
Not the man inside the coffin.
Not even the alarms screaming through the morgue.
Because all three of us knew the same thing.
That voice was impossible.
My mother's voice.
The voice I had spent twelve years trying to remember clearly.
The voice that disappeared from my life on the day they told me she died.
"Elena..."
It came again.
Soft.
Familiar.
Broken.
The woman beside me grabbed my arm.
"Don't answer."
I looked at her.
"That's my mother."
Her fingers tightened.
"No."
The word came out immediately.
Like she had been waiting to say it.
"That is not your mother."
My heart pounded.
"Then how does she know my name?"
The woman didn't answer.
Because she didn't have to.
The fear on her face told me enough.
The man inside the coffin slowly pushed himself higher.
Every movement looked painful.
"Marianne."
The woman looked at him.
"What?"
"If she hears that voice, it's already too late."
I turned toward him.
"What does that mean?"
He looked at me.
His eyes were filled with something I had not seen before.
Regret.
"Your mother knew they would use her voice."
The hallway outside became silent.
Too silent.
The alarms stopped.
The red lights continued flashing.
Someone was standing outside the door.
Waiting.
The woman named Marianne moved quickly toward the wall panel.
She pressed several buttons.
Nothing happened.
"They cut the system."
The man looked at her.
"Of course they did."
I stared at both of them.
"Stop talking like I’m not here."
They looked at me.
I stepped closer.
"I want answers."
Nobody spoke.
I pointed toward the door.
"My mother's voice is outside."
My hand shook.
"I have spent twelve years believing she was gone."
I looked at the man.
"You said you tried to save her."
Then at Marianne.
"You said she asked you to protect me."
My voice became louder.
"Protect me from what?"
The door handle moved.
Everyone froze.
The man in the coffin whispered:
"From them."
The handle stopped.
Then came three knocks.
Slow.
Calm.
Not the sound of someone trying to get inside.
The sound of someone who already knew they would be invited.
A voice followed.
"Elena."
I closed my eyes.
For a second, I was twelve years old again.
Standing in a hospital hallway.
Holding a plastic bag with my mother's belongings.
Waiting for someone to explain why my entire world had disappeared.
"Elena, sweetheart."
The voice sounded exactly like her.
The same warmth.
The same softness.
The same way she used to say my name when I was scared.
My knees almost gave out.
Marianne grabbed my shoulders.
"Look at me."
I did.
"Your mother would never ask you to open that door."
I swallowed.
"How do you know?"
Her expression changed.
Because the answer hurt.
"Because I was there the last time she saw you."
The room went quiet.
I stared at her.
"What?"
Marianne looked down.
"Your mother didn't die in a car accident."
The words hit harder than anything else that night.
I waited.
For the explanation.
For the correction.
For her to say she was wrong.
She didn't.
"She was taken."
The man inside the coffin looked away.
Like hearing it again hurt.
"Who took her?"
Marianne looked toward the door.
"The same people who put him in that coffin."
My eyes moved toward the man.
"Who are you?"
For the first time, he answered without hesitation.
"My name is Adrian Hawthorne."
The name meant nothing.
Until it did.
Hawthorne.
The family who owned the estate.
The family whose private morgue I cleaned every night.
The family whose portraits covered the walls upstairs.
The family everyone in town knew.
I stepped back.
"You are one of them."
Adrian looked at me.
"I was."
"You're lying."
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"I was the youngest son."
The alarms started again.
Marianne looked at the ceiling.
"They know we're still here."
Adrian ignored her.
"They found out what my father was doing."
I stared.
"Your father?"
He nodded.
"The man who declared me dead."
I looked at the coffin.
Then back at him.
"Why?"
Adrian's face changed.
Because whatever answer he had carried for years was finally coming out.
"Because I found the files."
"What files?"
"The ones your mother died trying to expose."
My chest tightened.
"What were in them?"
He looked at the silver key in my hand.
"The reason your mother hid something from you."
I looked down at the key.
The small metal tag.
The words.
Find the truth.
My mother had known.
She had known something would happen.
She had prepared for it.
A thought suddenly entered my mind.
"Why me?"
Nobody answered.
I looked up.
"Why did she leave this for me?"
Marianne stepped closer.
"Because you were the only person she trusted."
I shook my head.
"No."
My voice cracked.
"She was my mother. She would have told me."
Marianne's eyes softened.
"She tried."
The room went still.
"What?"
"Elena..."
She took a breath.
"Your memories weren't taken because they wanted to punish you."
I stared.
"They were taken because your mother begged them to."
My blood turned cold.
"No."
"She knew they would come for you."
Marianne's voice became quieter.
"She chose to let you forget."
I couldn't move.
My mother chose this?
My mother chose to erase herself from my memories?
Why?
The door knocked again.
Three times.
This time louder.
Adrian looked toward it.
"They're done waiting."
Marianne pulled something from her pocket.
A small device.
"There's a hidden exit."
I looked at her.
"Then why are we still here?"
Her face changed.
Because she knew.
Because she had been afraid to say it.
"The exit only opens from the other side."
I looked toward the locked door.
"So someone has to open it."
Adrian nodded.
Someone had to go outside.
Nobody moved.
Then Adrian slowly lifted himself from the coffin.
The man who had been declared dead.
The man who had been buried alive.
He placed one foot on the floor.
"You can't."
Marianne grabbed his arm.
"You'll collapse."
He looked at her.
"If I stay here, she'll never know the truth."
I watched him.
A man who should not have been alive.
A man who carried my mother's secret.
A man who had been willing to die to keep it hidden.
The door handle moved again.
This time, it turned completely.
The lock was breaking.
Adrian looked at me.
"Elena."
I looked up.
"When that door opens, don't believe the first thing you see."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
His eyes moved toward the hallway.
Then back to me.
"It means..."
The door cracked open.
May you like
A shadow appeared.
And a woman stepped into the light wearing my mother's face.
