Page 32 of When You're Forgotten

Finn swallowed, recalling Catherine’s lifeless eyes.“All we can do is keep watch and keep asking questions.The family are frightened, perhaps by the old myths surrounding their ancestors.Someone is deliberately stoking that fear.”

She gave him a solemn look, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.“Then we need to shine a light on it.”

He nodded, turning them back toward the kitchen.The overhead lights flickered slightly, adding an ominous note to the hush.Within the next few hours, or days at most, they needed to pry open the Penrose secrets, unearth the truth behind these bizarre deaths, and stop a cunning killer—if indeed that’s what haunted these halls.Because if they failed, there was no telling who might be next in line to meet a tragic, fear-laced end.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Amelia awoke with a start in the middle of the night, her heart beating so fiercely it felt almost painful against her ribs.The only illumination in the guest room came from a narrow sliver of moonlight shining through the tall windows, leaving the rest of the space sunk in heavy shadow.Brynmor Hall, in these dark hours, belonged to a realm of unsettled dreams and long-forgotten secrets.

She lay there for a moment, blinking as she tried to grasp what had roused her.The covers felt stifling, and she eased them away to breathe more freely.Then she heard it again: a faint scraping sound, like something dragging across the corridor’s floor outside her door.Immediately, her pulse kicked into a higher gear.

A wave of tension coiled through her muscles.She pressed her palm to the side of her neck, feeling the hairs stand upright.It sounded as though something heavy were being pulled along the wood, an irregular friction that caused a dull, repetitive thump.For an instant, she hoped it was the wind or a caretaker’s tool clattering.But her intuition insisted otherwise—too deliberate, too ominous.

She slid out of bed, bare feet touching the chilly boards.Her breath caught in her throat.The hall outside was only a few steps away, separated by a single locked door, but the notion of leaving her safe bubble made her skin prickle.She stared at the door handle, her mind a jumble of possibilities: had the murderer who killed Catherine returned?Had someone else fallen prey to that masked figure?

A quiet beep from her phone on the nightstand snapped her out of the swirl of dread.She snatched it up, her mind grasping for a lifeline.She dialed Finn’s number—he’d insisted she call if something happened before leaving her room to investigate.She pressed the phone to her ear, practically willing him to answer.But it rang and rang, no sign of picking up.Anxiety rattled her chest.Could he be sleeping through it, or maybe he was out patrolling?

She stared at the phone in dismay.With no immediate help, she knew she had to handle this alone.Another scrape echoed from behind the door, followed by a faint thud.It was drifting away now, as if whatever was being dragged was heading down the corridor.

Swallowing her misgivings, she crept toward the door.Even if danger lurked, how could she remain behind locked doors, not knowing who might be in trouble?Her sense of duty—as well as raw curiosity—propelled her.The handle felt cool under her palm.She tugged the door open slowly, bracing for confrontation.

The corridor beyond was dimly lit by a single wall sconce halfway down the hall.The flicker cast dancing shadows along the wallpaper.For a moment, Amelia could see nothing but the hushed emptiness of old portraits and the runner rug underfoot.Then her eyes caught a movement at the far end—something being pulled around the corner, disappearing from view.

Her heart stuttered.The shape on the floor was definitely human in outline—legs trailing, arms limp, with a swirl of what looked like long hair.A body.A woman’s body being dragged by an unseen force, so quickly that Amelia barely had time to react.She parted her lips to shout, but only a hoarse whisper escaped.Adrenaline finally spiked, and she yelled, “Stop!”letting her voice ring through the corridor.

No one answered.The body vanished around the corner.She forced herself into motion, the next footfall more a leap than a step.Her pulse pounded so loudly she could barely hear her own ragged breathing.Who was being dragged?Mrs Hughes?Marianne?Jenna?Some staff member she wasn’t aware of?

At the corner, she skidded, the soles of her feet nearly slipping on the rug’s edge.She turned and aimed her phone’s flashlight down the next stretch of hallway.The smell of old dust and furniture polish tinged the air, thick in her nostrils.She glimpsed the figure again—a masked silhouette, half-hidden in gloom, hauling the limp form up a short flight of narrow stairs that led to the third floor.The dragging sound resonated unnervingly, each scrape adding to the sense of nightmare.

“Stop!Police!”she cried again, voice echoing off the walls, but the masked figure did not pause.The body’s legs bumped each step, a sickening sight that made her chest constrict.Amelia cursed under her breath.She had no weapon—only the phone clutched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles whitened.

She closed the distance, ascending the stairs two at a time.Her lungs burned from the sudden burst of exertion.A swirl of fear hammered in her chest, battling with her determination.Was the woman alive?If someone was in mortal danger, she had to act, but her mind also screamed that she might be running headlong into a trap.

At the top of the narrow stairs, she emerged onto a cramped landing.Moonlight spilled through a dusty window, illuminating the masked figure kneeling in front of a door at the end.The body lay on the floor, half-covered by a thick red curtain.Bizarrely, it reminded Amelia of how Catherine had been found.But this time, the intruder was actively dragging the body—why?

Fueled by adrenaline, she rushed forward.“Let her go!”she shouted.The masked figure twisted around, silent as a phantom.She caught a glimpse of dark eyes—male, probably.The figure gave a single, sudden thrust, shoving her aside.The blow connected with her shoulder.Pain radiated through her arm, and she stumbled into the wall, letting out a gasp.

In that fleeting instant, the figure wrenched the window open.Without hesitating, he slipped onto the sill and dropped out of sight.Amelia stumbled to her feet, ignoring the sharp ache in her shoulder.She lunged to the window, breath straining, just in time to see the figure scramble down the ivy-laced exterior.His athletic grace in the moonlight seemed surreal—a living shadow bounding across the lawn.Then he vanished into the darkness.

Her heart hammered.She pivoted on a heel, searching for the body.It lay on the floor, the same red curtain draped across it that the masked figure must have used to conceal it.The overwhelming dread she felt earlier returned in a crushing wave.Kneeling, she reached out trembling fingers to pull the curtain aside, fearful of which family member or staff she might find.

She peeled back the thick fabric.In the faint light, she saw…herself.Her own features, pale and lifeless, eyes wide and staring.The hair matched her color, her shape, everything.For an impossible moment, she stared at her own dead face.A scream caught in her throat, half-choking her with raw terror.

Her phone clattered to the floor, the flashlight spinning and casting eerie arcs of illumination across the walls.Amelia jolted backward, every nerve in her body ignited by sheer disbelief.She wanted to cry out but found her voice gone, smothered by a horror so profound it defied words.She had to be losing her mind.But the stare of that corpse—her doppelganger—seared into her consciousness.

Then, the entire scene fractured like a pane of glass.She jolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat.Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her chest rose and fell with labored gasps.Moonlight streamed through the windows of her guest room, exactly as before, but the door was closed, no dragging noise outside.She lay tangled in the sheets, which clung to her clammy skin.

A dream.A nightmare of unimaginable intensity.For several seconds, she remained frozen, half expecting the masked figure to barge in or to find her own corpse at the foot of the bed.But all was still.The corridor outside, if she strained her ears, revealed no suspicious sound.She pressed a hand to her forehead, finding it damp with perspiration.

“Oh God,” she whispered shakily.Releasing a trembling exhale, she swung her legs out of bed, letting them dangle over the side.Her heart still pounded as if she’d run a marathon.The thought of trying to fall back asleep in this room—this place where her dream horrors played out—sent a shiver through her.

She cast a glance at her phone on the nightstand.She could call Finn again.This time, he would answer.But she knew the corridor was silent, the house presumably locked down for the night.The masked figure, if real, was unlikely to be near at this moment—she'd have heard something.Yet the dread refused to release her.She felt so vulnerable.

Gathering her courage, she rose, slipping into slippers and pulling a light cardigan around her.The corridor might not be safer, but she could not remain in this room—she needed Finn’s calm presence to anchor her from the lingering terrors of that dream.She inched the door open, scanning the hallway with her phone’s flashlight.Only the hush of an old manor met her, punctuated by the distant hum of a wind current through some half-sealed window.

Stepping out, she closed the door behind her.Each board complained softly underfoot, but the corridor was otherwise empty.She recalled her dream’s terrifying chase, how the body had been dragged up these halls.A wave of disorientation washed over her, but she forced it down.“Just keep moving,” she told herself under her breath.

She navigated the hall, turning corners, passing by silent portraits and occasional unlit side passages.Her phone’s dim glow gave enough light to avoid collisions, though the oppressive darkness beyond her narrow beam unsettled her.At last, she spotted the door to Finn’s room.She paused, feeling awkward at how it might look to arrive unannounced in the middle of the night, but she doubted he’d mind given the circumstances.

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