Whispers in the walls

Chapter 4 – Whispers in the Walls

Ava Carter POV

The humming was inside the room.

I froze at the edge of my bed, breath caught in my throat, listening. My eyes darted toward the fireplace. The flames danced gently, casting shadows that flickered along the ornate walls. But the sound wasn’t coming from the hearth.

It was behind me.

Slowly, I turned.

There, near the closet, the air shimmered. A faint, melodic tune slipped through the silence—soft, wordless, like a lullaby hummed to a sleeping child.

No one was there.

I stepped forward, heart pounding. The humming stopped.

Silence.

I stood in front of the closet, hand trembling as I reached for the knob. With a sharp breath, I yanked it open.

Empty.

Clothes. Shoes. A faint scent of lavender. Nothing out of place.

Except I had heard it. I knew I had.

I backed away, bumping into the foot of the bed, eyes scanning the room for any other sign—a shadow, a breath, a whisper. But there was nothing. Only the echo of that haunting hum in my head.

I barely slept the rest of the night. My body refused to relax, my mind replaying the sound over and over again. I stayed curled beneath the covers, jumping at every creak of the house.

By morning, I looked like hell.

---

Margaret didn’t comment when she brought my breakfast. But she stared at me for a long second longer than usual, like she knew.

Maybe she did.

After dressing, I made my way to the playroom where Emilia waited. She was sitting by the window, coloring in a sketchbook. Her expression was blank, movements robotic.

I greeted her softly. "Good morning."

"Did you sleep?" she asked without looking up.

The question startled me.

"Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Because she hums when people don’t."

I walked closer. "Who does?"

Emilia pressed the crayon harder into the page. "The lady in white."

A chill crawled up my spine.

"Emilia, where did you hear that name?"

"It’s not a name," she said, finally looking at me. "She doesn’t like names."

---

Later that day, I found Damon in the study.

The room was dimly lit, shelves packed with books that smelled of dust and secrets. He sat behind a heavy desk, flipping through a leather-bound journal. He looked up when I entered.

"Ava."

"We need to talk."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "About what?"

I didn’t flinch. "There’s something wrong with this house."

"Define wrong."

"I heard humming. In my room. Last night. And Emilia—she knows something."

Damon closed the journal slowly. "You’re tired."

"Don’t do that," I snapped. "Don’t gaslight me."

His jaw tightened. He stood and crossed the room until he was inches from me.

"You’re on my property," he said quietly. "Under my roof. If there’s something you want to know, you ask. But don’t accuse my house of ghosts like a frightened child."

"Then tell me what’s going on."

He stared at me for a long moment.

"The east wing was closed for a reason. What you saw last night... should not be seen."

"Then explain it."

He shook his head. "You wouldn’t understand."

"Try me."

Damon exhaled sharply. "Some histories are buried for a reason, Ava. For protection. For peace. Do not dig into the past unless you're ready to be buried with it."

---

The rest of the day passed in tense silence. Emilia barely spoke. Damon disappeared into meetings. Margaret avoided my eyes.

That night, I couldn’t eat.

I paced my room, feeling the walls closing in. I pressed my ear to the door, straining for sound.

Nothing.

But the silence felt wrong. Like something held its breath, waiting for me to let mine go.

Then, the hum began again.

Soft. Sweet.

And coming from the wall.

Not just behind it—inside it.

I moved toward the wall between my room and the east wing. The humming grew louder, as if encouraging me. My fingers traced the edge of the wallpaper, searching.

That’s when I felt it.

A seam.

A hidden door.

I stepped back, heart hammering.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a hallucination.

There was something behind that wall.

I needed to know what.

---

The next morning, I made up my mind.

Margaret brought breakfast again, but I feigned illness. Told her I had a migraine and needed to rest.

She left without questioning me.

As soon as the hallway cleared, I sprang into action. I moved my dresser aside, exposing the narrow outline of the hidden door. I pressed along the seam until I found a latch.

Click.

It swung open with a low groan, revealing a narrow, dust-filled passage.

I grabbed my phone for light and stepped inside.

Cobwebs clung to my arms. The air was musty and cold. The floor creaked beneath each step. The passage stretched farther than I expected, winding through the walls like veins in a body.

After a few minutes, I emerged into a hidden room.

It was small. Just a twin bed, a nightstand, and an old vanity. Everything coated in dust. On the bed sat a porcelain doll with dark hair and a cracked face.

My light passed over the wall.

Scrawled words in faded ink:

SHE NEVER LEFT

I turned, heart racing.

Then I saw the photo on the vanity.

A young girl. Same face as Emilia.

But this one wore a white nightgown. And her eyes were hollow.

---

I returned to my room and shut the passage behind me. My hands were shaking. I didn’t know what to do with what I found.

Was the girl in the photo Emilia? Or someone else?

Was she the woman I saw in the hallway?

Was Damon hiding something darker than I imagined?

That night, I barely slept. Again.

But the humming didn’t return.

It was replaced by something worse.

Whispers.

Low. Unintelligible.

Coming from under the floorboards.

I sat up, breath frozen in my chest.

The whispers grew louder.

And then I heard my name.

"Ava."

A voice I didn’t recognize.

I jumped out of bed, pressing my ear to the floor.

Nothing.

Then a knock on the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I turned slowly.

Outside my window—on the second floor—stood a figure.

A woman.

White gown.

Smiling.

I screamed.

When Damon burst into the room seconds later, she was gone.

But I knew what I saw.

I wasn’t crazy.

And whatever haunted this place...

It knew my name.