Chapter 5: The House On Rosewood Street
I stared at the message until the words blurred.
Come alone, or she disappears again.
My fingers tightened around my phone.
For twenty years, I had imagined what it would feel like to see my mother again.
I imagined running into her arms.
I imagined asking why she left.
I imagined hearing an explanation that would finally make everything make sense.
But I never imagined someone using her as a threat.
“Amara?””
Mr. Bennett’s voice pulled me back.
I locked my phone.
“What?””
“You received something.””
I looked at him.
“I need to go.””
His expression changed immediately.
“No.””
I froze.
“No?””
“Whoever sent that message wants you scared. They want you alone because they know you are the one thing I can’t risk losing again.””
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Again.
Like he had already lost me once.
“I lost my mother once,” I said quietly.
“I’m not losing her again.””
Mr. Bennett stepped closer.
“You don’t understand who we’re dealing with.””
“Then tell me.””
He looked away.
That hesitation made my stomach twist.
“David.””
He sighed.
“Richard is not just a thief.””
“What does that mean?””
“He’s dangerous.””
The room became silent.
Before I could respond, the office door opened.
A security officer rushed in.
“Mr. Bennett, we found something.””
He handed over a small envelope.
Mr. Bennett opened it.
Inside was a single piece of fabric.
Blue.
The same color as my dress.
My breath caught.
On the fabric were the same initials.
A.C.
But underneath them was something new.
A date.
The day my mother disappeared.
“He wants you to know he’s watching,” Mr. Bennett whispered.
I grabbed my coat.
“I’m going.””
Mr. Bennett stepped in front of me.
“Amara.””
For the first time, he didn’t look like a powerful businessman.
He looked like a frightened father.
“Please don’t make me lose you twice.””
I looked at him.
Twenty years ago, I would have given anything to hear a father say those words.
But I wasn’t ready to forgive him.
Not yet.
“I’m going,” I repeated.
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then he picked up his keys.
“Then I’m coming with you.””
The drive to Rosewood Street was silent.
The city disappeared behind us.
The buildings became smaller.
The roads became older.
Finally, we reached a forgotten neighborhood filled with abandoned houses and overgrown yards.
My heart pounded.
I knew this place.
Not because I remembered it.
Because I had seen it in my dreams.
A small blue house sat at the end of the street.
The paint was peeling.
The windows were cracked.
But somehow, it felt familiar.
Mr. Bennett stopped the car.
“That’s where you lived?””
I nodded.
“I think so.””
We walked toward the house.
The front door was already open.
That was worse than a locked door.
Someone wanted us inside.
Mr. Bennett raised his hand.
“Stay behind me.””
We entered.
Dust covered everything.
Old furniture remained exactly where it had been left.
A broken clock hung on the wall.
A child’s drawing was taped beside it.
I stepped closer.
My heart stopped.
It was a picture of three people.
A little girl.
A woman.
And a man.
The little girl had written something underneath.
My family.
I touched the paper.
“I drew this.””
Mr. Bennett stood beside me.
His eyes filled with emotion.
“You remembered.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“I didn’t.””
Then I noticed something.
The drawing had a date.
The same date written on the blue fabric.
The day my mother disappeared.
A sound came from upstairs.
A floorboard creaked.
Mr. Bennett immediately turned.
“Who’s there?””
No answer.
We climbed the stairs slowly.
Every step made the old wood scream.
At the end of the hallway was a bedroom.
The door was slightly open.
I pushed it.
Inside was a sewing machine.
My mother’s sewing machine.
I knew it instantly.
Beside it was a box.
I opened it.
Inside were dozens of letters.
All addressed to me.
My hands shook.
“She wrote to me.””
Mr. Bennett looked confused.
“Then why didn’t you receive them?””
A voice answered from behind us.
“Because someone made sure you never did.””
We turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Older.
Her hair was streaked with gray.
Her eyes were exactly the same.
My breath disappeared.
“Mom?””
She covered her mouth.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then she whispered:
“Amara.””
The world stopped.
I had imagined this moment a thousand times.
But nothing prepared me for seeing her standing there.
Alive.
Crying.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
One word.
Twenty years of pain.
One word.
I wanted to run to her.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I whispered:
“Why?””
Her face collapsed.
“Because I was trying to protect you.””
A loud crash came from downstairs.
My mother’s expression changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
“He found us.””
Mr. Bennett looked toward the hallway.
“Who?””
My mother grabbed my hand.
“The man who ruined everything.””
Then the lights went out.
And a familiar voice echoed from downstairs.
“Hello, David.””
May you like
My mother’s grip tightened around mine.
“It’s Richard.””
