Whispers in the walls
Chapter 4 – Whispers in the Walls
The humming started again, low and melodic, curling through the silence of Ava’s room like a lullaby only she was meant to hear.
But this time, it wasn’t coming from behind the wall.
It was inside the room.
Ava froze at the foot of her bed. Her breath caught mid-chest, body stiff with the memory of the night before—the humming, the knock, the cold that never left her bones. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on the fireplace where the embers glowed faintly. But the sound wasn’t coming from there.
No. It was behind her.
She turned slowly, half-expecting to find someone standing in the shadows. But the room appeared unchanged—ornate, silent, still. Still, the melody lingered, soft and haunting, threading through the space near the closet.
She crept closer. The air felt heavier, the scent of lavender from the closet oddly strong. Reaching for the knob with a trembling hand, she yanked the door open.
Nothing.
Just her clothes and shoes. A scarf fell from the hanger, landing soundlessly on the floor. The humming stopped.
Ava backed away slowly, bumping into the foot of the bed, heart thudding against her ribs like a drumbeat of warning. The silence that followed was too complete, unnatural.
She stayed awake the rest of the night, wrapped in a blanket, every muscle tensed. Sleep came only in patches, haunted by dreams she couldn’t remember and shadows that didn’t stay still.
---
Margaret’s knock at dawn came like a gunshot.
The woman entered, tray in hand, but paused upon seeing Ava’s pale face and bloodshot eyes.
“Rough night?”
Ava forced a smile. “Didn’t sleep well.”
Margaret said nothing, just set the tray down with her usual care. But something in her eyes lingered—a flicker of knowing, a shadow of warning. She didn’t press. She never did.
After breakfast, Ava joined Emilia in the playroom. The little girl was sketching on the floor, her long hair tied back with a silk ribbon. She didn’t look up when Ava entered.
“Good morning,” Ava greeted softly.
Emilia’s crayon halted. “You heard her again, didn’t you?”
The question struck her like cold water.
Ava hesitated. “Who?”
“The lady in white.”
She crouched beside her. “Emilia... where did you hear that?”
“I dream her. Every time someone else does.”
Ava’s breath hitched.
“She doesn’t like being seen,” Emilia added matter-of-factly, returning to her drawing. “But she’s always there.”
---
By noon, Ava couldn’t take the silence anymore.
She found Damon in the library, a glass of dark liquor in hand. He looked tired, as if he too hadn’t slept.
“We need to talk,” she said, skipping pleasantries.
His eyes didn’t leave the fireplace. “About?”
“The woman. The humming. The whispers in the walls.”
He turned slowly, gaze narrowing. “You’re not sleeping. That’s all.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
He studied her for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke.
“There are things in this house that live in the seams of time. Things best left alone.”
“Evelyn?”
He flinched. Barely. But she saw it.
“Is she still here?”
Damon’s voice dropped. “She’s buried. Let her stay buried.”
“But she isn’t. She’s—”
“Ava.” His tone sharpened. “Do not dig into the past unless you’re ready to lose yourself in it.”
---
That night, Ava didn’t sleep.
She sat with her back against the door, flashlight in hand, staring at the wall. Waiting.
At 3:00 a.m., the humming returned.
Stronger. Closer.
Ava stood slowly, following the sound to the left side of the room. Her fingers traced the wallpaper where she’d first felt the seam.
And there it was—a latch, hidden in the molding.
Click.
A panel slid open.
Behind it, a narrow corridor stretched into darkness.
She hesitated only a second before stepping inside.
The passage was tight, claustrophobic, lined with old wood and cobwebs. The air was thick with dust and the scent of decay. She moved slowly, phone light casting eerie shadows.
Finally, she reached a small room.
A twin bed. A cracked mirror. A vanity layered in dust.
And a photo.
Emilia. Younger, barely a toddler. In a white gown. Held by a woman Ava recognized from the box of photos.
Evelyn.
Ava’s heart thundered.
On the wall behind the bed, words were scrawled in faded ink:
SHE NEVER LEFT.
The bed creaked.
Ava spun around, breath caught.
But no one was there.
---
She returned to her room shaken, her hands filthy, heart still pounding.
The panel clicked shut behind her, but the knowledge couldn’t be locked away.
Evelyn was still here. In some way. Some form.
That night, the humming didn’t come.
Instead, it was whispers.
Low. Urgent. Her name spoken like a secret.
“Ava.”
She pressed her ear to the floor.
“Ava.”
Then—three knocks.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Not on the wall.
On the window.
Second floor.
She turned.
And saw her.
A woman. White gown. Pale skin. Hollow eyes.
Smiling.
Ava screamed.
Damon burst into the room moments later, eyes wild.
“What happened?”
She pointed to the window. “She was there. Evelyn.”
His expression shifted—stone, then shadow. He said nothing.
But Ava knew.
Evelyn wasn’t a ghost from the past.
She was very much part of the present.
And she knew Ava’s name.