Chapter 2 - The Secret Inside The Backpack
The knock came again.
Three slow knocks.
Not loud.
Not aggressive.
Almost polite.
But after hearing my sister whisper "She knows" before the call disconnected, there was nothing polite about that sound anymore.
I stood frozen in my kitchen, staring at the apartment door.
Chloe was still sitting at the table.
Her small hands were wrapped around the edge of the chair.
She wasn’t looking at the door.
She was looking at me.
And the fear in her eyes told me one thing.
She knew exactly who was standing outside.
"Chloe," I whispered.
She didn’t answer.
"Do you know who that is?"
Her lips trembled.
Then she slowly shook her head.
But she wasn’t convincing.
Children are terrible at lying.
Especially children who are already scared.
I looked back at the door.
My first instinct was to open it.
I lived alone.
I wasn’t the type of person who worried about every strange sound.
But that night was different.
A five-year-old girl had just told me she saved old bread because she didn’t know when she would eat again.
My sister had called me in panic after I found a hidden note.
And someone was standing outside my apartment.
At that moment, opening the door felt like the worst decision I could make.
So I didn’t.
The person outside knocked one more time.
Then a voice came through the door.
"Marcus?"
My stomach dropped.
It was a woman’s voice.
But not my sister’s.
I looked at Chloe.
Her face had gone completely pale.
"Who is that?" I asked.
She whispered something.
I almost didn’t hear it.
"Don’t answer."
I walked closer to her.
"Chloe, who is it?"
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I don’t know."
But the way she said it told me she did.
I moved away from the door and picked up my phone.
I wanted to call Sarah again.
I wanted answers.
But before I could press her name, another message appeared.
From Sarah.
My hands went cold.
The message was only four words.
"Don’t let her in."
I stared at the screen.
I read it again.
Then again.
Don’t let her in.
Not "don’t let him in."
Not "be careful."
Her.
I looked toward the door.
The woman outside knocked again.
"Marcus, I know you’re there."
My breathing slowed.
Because now I understood something.
Whoever was outside wasn’t guessing.
She knew.
I typed back to Sarah.
"Who is she?"
The message showed as delivered.
No response.
I waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Thirty.
Nothing.
The woman outside spoke again.
"Marcus, I just want to talk."
I didn’t answer.
"Please."
Her voice sounded calm.
Too calm.
Like she had practiced those words.
I walked back to the table.
Chloe was staring at the floor.
"Sweetheart," I said softly, "I need you to tell me something."
She looked up.
"Has that woman been around you before?"
A tear rolled down her cheek.
She wiped it away quickly.
Then she whispered:
"She came when Mommy wasn’t home."
I felt my chest tighten.
"When?"
"I don’t know."
"What did she want?"
Chloe looked at the backpack.
The pink backpack sitting beside her chair.
Again.
Everything came back to that backpack.
The folded paper.
The hidden bread.
The fear.
I picked it up carefully.
"Chloe, did your mom know about this?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Then why did you bring it?"
She looked embarrassed.
Like she had done something wrong.
"I wanted to remember."
"Remember what?"
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she reached into the front pocket.
This time she didn’t stop me.
She pulled out a small plastic bag.
Inside was a tiny bracelet.
A child’s bracelet.
Blue beads.
One bead was cracked.
I looked at it.
"Is this yours?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Whose is it?"
Her eyes moved toward the apartment door.
And then she whispered:
"My brother's."
I froze.
"Your brother?"
She nodded slowly.
"I had a brother before."
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Because Sarah had never told me Chloe had a brother.
Not once.
"Chloe," I said carefully, "what was his name?"
She opened her mouth.
But before she could answer, the woman outside spoke again.
This time louder.
"Marcus, Sarah is making this harder than it needs to be."
My blood ran cold.
She knew Sarah.
She knew my sister.
And she knew enough to use her name.
I moved farther away from the door.
"Chloe, your brother… where is he?"
The little girl looked down.
"He went away."
"When?"
She touched the cracked bead.
"Mommy said he had to leave."
I swallowed.
"Why?"
Her fingers tightened around the bracelet.
"Because he asked too many questions."
The room became silent.
A five-year-old shouldn’t know how to say something like that.
Not with that expression.
Not with that fear.
I grabbed my phone again.
This time I called Sarah.
She answered immediately.
"Marcus?"
Her voice was shaking.
"Sarah, who is outside my door?"
Silence.
That silence answered more than words could.
"Sarah."
"Did she come there?"
"Who is she?"
My sister breathed heavily.
Then she said something that made my entire body tense.
"Marcus, listen to me carefully."
I waited.
"Do not let Chloe see her."
I looked at Chloe.
She was already watching me.
"Why?"
Sarah didn’t answer.
"Sarah, why?"
Her voice broke.
"Because Chloe remembers things she shouldn't remember."
I felt a chill.
"What does that mean?"
"Where is the backpack?"
I looked at it.
"Why?"
"Marcus, where is the backpack?"
I didn’t answer immediately.
And that hesitation was enough.
Sarah knew.
"You opened it."
I looked at the bracelet.
"You never told me she had a brother."
Another silence.
Then Sarah whispered:
"Because he wasn’t supposed to exist anymore."
I stopped breathing for a second.
"What?"
"Marcus, you need to take Chloe and leave."
"Leave where?"
"Anywhere."
"Sarah, explain."
But before she could answer, the woman outside suddenly knocked harder.
Three times.
Then she said:
"Marcus, I know you’re talking to Sarah."
My eyes moved toward the door.
Sarah heard it too.
Her voice changed instantly.
Fear.
Pure fear.
"Marcus."
"What?"
"Turn off the lights."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because she knows exactly where Chloe is."
The call ended.
I stood in the darkness of my apartment.
The lights above the kitchen table went off.
The television screen went black.
Only the small glow from my phone remained.
Chloe grabbed my hand.
Her fingers were shaking.
Then she whispered something.
Something that made my heart stop.
"Uncle Marcus..."
I looked down.
"What?"
She pointed toward the hallway.
"The closet."
I turned slowly.
The closet door near my bedroom was slightly open.
I was sure I had closed it.
"Did you open that?" I whispered.
Chloe shook her head.
"No."
The woman outside stopped knocking.
For several seconds, there was complete silence.
Then my phone vibrated.
A new message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
There was only one sentence.
"Ask Chloe who was hiding in your apartment before you arrived."
I stared at the message.
Then I heard a small sound behind me.
May you like
A floorboard.
Someone was already inside.
