Chapter 2 — The Door No One Was Allowed to Open
The next Tuesday, Brooke was waiting before Sarah even reached the third floor.
She stood quietly in the hallway, clutching her rag doll in one arm while holding the pink hair tie in the other.
Sarah smiled gently.
"Good morning."
Brooke didn't answer.
She simply walked over and sat on a small stool near the window.
Sarah removed her gloves and carefully began separating the little girl's tangled blonde hair.
Her fingers moved slowly.
Never pulling.
Never rushing.
Brooke closed her eyes.
"This doesn't hurt," she whispered.
"No."
"A braid should feel safe."
For a long moment, only the sound of distant rain filled the hallway.
Then Brooke spoke again.
"Mom used to braid it."
Sarah's hands paused for only a heartbeat.
"What was your mom like?"
Brooke looked toward the half-open bedroom.
"She sang."
"She laughed."
"She opened the blue room."
Sarah frowned.
"The blue room?"
Brooke nodded toward the end of the hallway.
The only door painted pale blue.
The only door that was always locked.
"Nobody goes there now."
"Daddy says it's forbidden."
"Why?"
Brooke hugged her doll tighter.
"Because Mommy never came back out."
A chill crawled across Sarah's skin.
Before she could ask another question, Nancy's sharp voice echoed down the hallway.
"Sarah!"
Sarah immediately stood.
Nancy's face had gone pale.
"What are you doing?"
"Cleaning."
"You were told not to speak to Miss Brooke."
Brooke stepped behind Sarah.
It was the first time anyone had ever seen the child hide behind another person.
Nancy noticed.
Her expression softened for only a fraction of a second.
Then she whispered,
"Stay away from that blue room."
"There are things better left buried."
That evening Sarah couldn't sleep.
Those words refused to leave her mind.
The next morning she arrived earlier than usual.
The mansion was silent.
Too silent.
As she pushed her cleaning cart down the hallway, she heard tiny footsteps.
Brooke appeared, breathing quickly.
Without saying a word, she grabbed Sarah's hand.
Then...
She led her directly toward the locked blue door.
"The key," Brooke whispered.
"I know where Daddy hides it."
Before Sarah could stop her, Brooke reached inside an old porcelain vase.
A small brass key rested beneath dried flowers.
The lock clicked.
The heavy door slowly opened.
Dust floated through a beam of pale morning light.
The room looked untouched.
Exactly as someone had left it two years earlier.
A rocking chair.
Half-finished knitting.
Children's books.
Family photographs.
A piano.
And beside the window...
A woman's white cardigan still hanging across the chair.
As though she had stepped away only minutes ago.
Sarah felt tears sting her eyes.
Then Brooke quietly walked to the piano.
She pressed one yellowed envelope into Sarah's hands.
Across the front were six handwritten words.
For Brooke... when she's old enough.