Daar was Margaret – bleek in haar lange witte nachtjapon, die angzaam door de gang liep. Ze stopte voor onze deur, keek om zich heen en klopte drie keer. Toen stond ze daar gewoon.
Tien lange minuten gingen voorbij. Ze bewoog niet, sprak niet, staarde alleen maar naar de deur alsof ze wachtte tot iets – of iemand – zou antwoorden. Toen draaide ze zich om en dreef weg in het donker.
Ik voelde een rilling door me heen gaan.
When I showed Liam, his face turned white.
“You knew something about this,” I said quietly.
He hesitated. “Mom doesn’t mean any harm,” he murmured. “She just… has her reasons.”
But he wouldn’t tell me what they were.
Searching for Answers
That afternoon, I went to Margaret directly. She was in the living room, sipping tea as if nothing in the world was wrong.
“I know about the knocks,” I said gently. “We saw the video. I just want to understand why.”
Her eyes lifted to mine — calm, sharp, and unreadable.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Before I could answer, she stood and quietly walked away.
That night, I reviewed the rest of the footage. My hands shook as I pressed play.
After knocking, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silver key. She held it against our door lock — not turning it, just holding it there for a few seconds — before slipping it back into her pocket and walking off.
It was as if she was checking the door, not trying to open it. But why?
The Secret in the Notebook
The next morning, desperate for clarity, I searched Liam’s nightstand. Tucked between books was a worn notebook. One entry read:
“Mom still checks the doors every night. Says she hears noises, but I never hear anything. She asked me not to worry, but I think she’s hiding something.”
When Liam found me holding the notebook, he finally told me everything.
After his father passed away years earlier, his mother began struggling with anxiety and severe insomnia. She became obsessed with checking doors and windows, convinced that someone might break in.
Recently, she’d begun saying strange things like, ‘I have to keep Liam safe from her.’
I froze. “From me?” I whispered.
He nodded, guilt clouding his face.
That night, fear kept me awake long after the house had gone quiet. What if one night, she didn’t just knock?
Facing the Truth
I told Liam I couldn’t stay unless he found her help. To his credit, he agreed.
