The veil Between
Chapter 6 – Beneath the Surface
The silence in Ava's room was suffocating.
After Damon stormed out, she remained still, the blanket clutched around her shoulders, eyes wide and fixed on the now-empty window. The figure in white—the woman who had whispered her name—was gone, but the echo of her presence lingered like smoke in her lungs.
She didn’t sleep that night. Couldn’t. Every flicker of shadow became a face. Every whisper of wind against the windowpane felt like a beckoning finger.
And beneath it all, a single truth rose like bile in her throat: something in this house wanted her to see. To remember. To uncover what Damon desperately tried to bury.
---
Morning came without light.
Clouds gathered over the estate, heavy and gray. The sun refused to break through.
Ava moved through the house like a ghost. Her limbs ached from lack of rest, her eyes rimmed red from hours of staring at the ceiling. She ignored Margaret’s judgmental glances and Emilia’s curious silence.
At breakfast, Damon didn’t show.
The seat at the head of the table remained untouched, his absence louder than his presence. Margaret placed a cup of coffee in front of Ava and said nothing.
She stirred it slowly, watching the dark liquid swirl.
"You saw her, didn’t you?" Emilia said softly.
Ava looked up.
The little girl had crept into the dining room, bare feet silent on the marble floor. She clutched her favorite ragdoll, its head lolling to the side.
"The lady in white," Emilia whispered. "She talks to me sometimes. But she never smiles. Not until she saw you."
Ava's chest tightened. "What does she say?"
Emilia shrugged. "She sings. Sometimes cries. She likes the music room the most."
The mention of the room sent a chill racing down Ava’s spine. She’d avoided it since her first week here. Something about the piano always felt off—like it played itself.
Emilia stepped closer. "You want to know what happened to her, don’t you?"
Ava nodded slowly. "Do you know?"
The girl bit her lip. "Daddy said she went away. But I think he locked her up."
Locked her up.
The phrase echoed in Ava's mind long after Emilia left the room.
---
By afternoon, Ava couldn’t take it anymore. She had to go back.
To the hidden passage. To the room behind the wall.
Armed with her phone and a flashlight, she waited until the house was quiet. Margaret had taken Emilia for a walk in the garden. Damon hadn’t returned since last night. The opportunity was now.
She moved the dresser again, uncovering the narrow door.
It opened easier this time. Almost like the house was expecting her.
Dust swirled in the narrow passage as she stepped inside. The air was cold, the silence unnerving. Her footsteps echoed as she moved through the hidden corridor.
The small room waited at the end.
The doll still sat on the bed.
The scrawled words on the wall were unchanged:
SHE NEVER LEFT
But something else had changed.
The mirror on the vanity—last time, it had been dull and caked with grime. Now, it gleamed. Clean. Like someone had wiped it down.
Ava stepped closer, frowning.
And then she saw it.
In the reflection, a woman stood behind her.
White gown. Pale skin. Black eyes.
She turned in terror—but the room was empty.
Spinning back to the mirror, the reflection was gone.
Her hands trembled as she backed away.
Something caught her foot. She stumbled, nearly falling. When she looked down, she saw the corner of a box poking out from beneath the bed.
She dropped to her knees and dragged it out.
It was wooden. Old. The lock was rusted but snapped open with a twist of her fingers.
Inside were letters.
Dozens of them.
Each one addressed to Damon Blackwood.
She picked one at random and opened it.
Damon,
Please, don’t do this. I know I broke the rules, but I had to. I had to protect her. She’s your daughter too, even if you deny it. Please, don’t lock me away. Not like this.
Love always, Evelyn.
Ava’s breath caught.
Evelyn. Emilia’s mother.
Still alive when she wrote this.
Still hoping.
She opened another.
It’s been three weeks. The walls talk to me. I can’t see the sun. Damon, please, I’m begging you. I hear footsteps but no one comes.
And another.
I heard Emilia crying. You told me she was gone. You lied. You LIED. She needs me. I will not be silent.
Ava clutched the box to her chest, her heart pounding.
Evelyn had been locked away.
Not dead.
Not then.
Maybe not even now.
---
She didn’t hear Damon return. Not until his voice rang out in the hall.
"Ava. We need to talk."
She barely had time to shove the box beneath the bed and close the passage. Her dresser scraped loudly as she slid it back into place.
The knock came seconds later.
"Ava. Open the door."
She straightened her clothes, wiping sweat from her brow, and opened it.
Damon stood in the doorway, expression unreadable.
"You look pale," he said.
"Rough night."
He tilted his head. "Let’s take a walk."
She followed him down the hall, her mind racing. He knew. She was sure of it.
They moved in silence until they reached the conservatory. The garden outside was wild and overgrown, the windows fogged with age.
Damon faced her.
"Do you trust me, Ava?"
She hesitated. "Should I?"
"I brought you here to care for my daughter. Not to pry into things that don’t concern you."
"She concerns me. And so does the truth."
His jaw clenched. "Evelyn made choices. Dangerous ones. She put Emilia at risk."
"By loving her?"
"By inviting darkness into this house."
Ava stepped closer. "What darkness, Damon? The one that whispers from the floor? That knocks on my walls at night? The one that sings lullabies to your daughter while you pretend none of this exists?"
His hand twitched at his side. For a moment, she thought he might strike her.
But then he turned away.
"Stay out of the east wing," he said quietly. "For your own good."
---
That night, Ava waited until the house was silent.
She retrieved the letters and tucked them into her coat. Then, she returned to the hidden room. Her fingers brushed over the writing on the wall.
SHE NEVER LEFT
She lit a candle from the vanity and examined the walls.
There had to be more.
Her fingers found a groove near the floor.
Another panel.
She pried it open and gasped.
A tunnel. Cramped and narrow.
But it led somewhere.
She crawled inside, letters pressed to her chest.
The path twisted and turned until it opened into a chamber beneath the house.
The candle flickered.
In the center of the room was a bed.
And on it, a body.
Not skeletal.
Preserved.
Like she had been sleeping for years.
A woman. White gown. Dark hair.
Evelyn.
Her chest didn’t rise.
But Ava could feel something in the room. A presence.
The air thrummed with it.
She set the letters on the edge of the bed, unable to stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks.
"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I found you too late."
Behind her, the whispers began again.
But this time, she didn’t flinch.
This time, she listened.
And Evelyn spoke.
"Not too late , Ava. Not yet."