Leah’s scream reverberated through the enclosed space, but the walls swallowed it whole, muffling the sound as if the room itself refused to acknowledge her terror. Her hands trembled violently as she pressed herself against the door, desperate to make herself as small as possible. The whispers had stopped—but the silence was worse. The absence of sound felt unnatural, as if something, or someone, was waiting.

  Her breathing came fast and shallow, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her fingers fumbled over the surface of the door, searching for anything—anything—that could help her escape. There had to be a way out. There had to be.

  She tried the knob again, twisting until her hands ached, but the lock wouldn’t budge. Her eyes darted around the darkness, her mind racing. She needed light, needed to see, needed to know what was in this room with her. Her phone—where was her phone? Her fingers dove into her pockets, but they were empty. She had left it on the kitchen counter before Derrick… before he locked her in.

  A fresh wave of fear coursed through her. How long had he been planning this? Had he known she would eventually find her way in here? Was that why he had always dismissed her questions, always deflected when she brought up the locked door?

  The rustling returned.

  This time, it was unmistakable.

  Leah squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to believe it was nothing but her own panicked imagination. Maybe a draft from somewhere. Maybe mice. Maybe… maybe anything but the alternative.

  She forced herself to move, her hands stretching out in front of her, feeling blindly in the dark. Her fingers brushed against fabric again. Dresses. She knew they were wedding dresses. She imagined the women who had once worn them, the way they had laughed and danced, full of hope, unaware of the fate that awaited them. Now they were nothing but forgotten relics, ghosts in fabric form.

  Her hands trembled as she pushed forward. If she could just find something sharp, something heavy—anything she could use to break the door or defend herself—she might have a chance.

  And then her foot struck something.

  Something solid.

  Something that shifted.

  Leah’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

  The air around her felt heavier, thick with something unspoken, something wrong. Slowly, she crouched down, feeling with her hands, her fingers brushing against wood.

  The chest.

  The one that had been slightly open before Derrick caught her.

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  The one that had been making noises.

  It was open now.

  She jerked her hand back as if burned, scrambling away, her breath coming in panicked gasps. She wanted to look inside, but she also didn’t want to. Because deep down, she already knew she wouldn’t like what she found.

  A soft creak echoed through the darkness. The sound of something shifting, something adjusting, something… moving inside the chest.

  Leah pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

  And then, just as she prepared to flee to the farthest corner of the room, something touched her.

  Cold. Clammy. Unmistakably human.

  A strangled cry ripped from her throat as she recoiled, scrambling back, knocking over a pile of boxes in her desperation. She pressed herself against the wall, her chest rising and falling in frantic gasps, eyes wide and searching in the pitch-black space.

  “Who’s there?” she whispered, hating the way her voice trembled.

  Silence.

  And then… the whisper returned.

  A voice. So faint, so breathy, it was barely more than a sigh.

  “…Help…me…”

  Leah’s body seized with terror. She wasn’t alone.

  The realization came like a punch to the gut, leaving her dizzy, unsteady. There was someone else in this room.

  A fresh wave of nausea rolled through her as her mind tried to make sense of it. Was it a trick? Was Derrick doing this somehow? Some cruel psychological game to make her lose her grip on reality?

  But no. The voice—the presence—felt different. It wasn’t Derrick. It wasn’t him at all.

  It was one of them.

  The missing wives.

  Leah’s hands flew to her ears as if she could block out the truth, but the whispering didn’t stop. If anything, it became clearer, stronger, like a voice carried on the wind, brushing against the shell of her ear.

  “…he’s coming back… he won’t let you leave…”

  A sob broke from Leah’s lips as she shook her head violently. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no, this isn’t real.”

  The whisper turned urgent now, the voice breathy, desperate.

  “…You have to run… you have to get out… before it’s too late…”

  Leah wanted to. God, she wanted to. But there was no way out. The door was locked. The room was suffocatingly small. And the chest… she didn’t dare go near the chest.

  Another sound sent ice racing through her veins—the unmistakable click of a lock.

  Not from inside the room.

  From outside.

  Leah’s head snapped toward the door, her stomach twisting violently. Footsteps. Slow, measured footsteps. The sound of someone standing just on the other side of the door.

  Derrick.

  She could hear his breathing now, just beyond the threshold. He wasn’t saying anything. Just standing there.

  Waiting.

  Her hands clenched into fists. She refused to let him break her. If she gave in to the fear, she was already dead.

  Gritting her teeth, she launched herself at the door, pounding against it. “Derrick!” she screamed. “Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

  No response.

  Her fists continued to slam against the wood, desperation surging through her. She kicked at it, clawed at it, tried to break it down with every ounce of strength she had left.

  And then, finally, his voice.

  Low. Almost amused.

  “I told you not to go in there.”

  A sob escaped her lips, raw and full of fury. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, Derrick, don’t do this.”

  A pause. Then a sigh.

  “You weren’t supposed to know, Leah. But now that you do…”

  His voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken words. And Leah knew. She knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

  “…You can’t leave.”

  Terror crashed over her in waves. Her body trembled violently, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

  The whisper returned, right in her ear now.

  “…Run…”

  But there was nowhere to run.

  Because she was already trapped.

  And Derrick was never going to let her go.