The Door That Shouldn't Be Opened
5:29 a.m. Aziz's hand was on the back-room door handle. Cold. A warm yellow light spilled from inside. Outside, three wooden boxes were waiting neatly in front of the door.
Five children's voices: _"Mr. Aziz... it's morning... come play..."_ His phone was still in his hand. The "mother's" voice from earlier kept echoing in his head.
Ruby clawed at Aziz's leg. _Meow!_ Aziz drew a breath. And...
_Kreeeak._ The door opened.
Behind the door wasn't the back room. It was a living room, but not Aziz's living room.
The walls were painted pink. There were posters with pictures on them. A small study desk. A bunk bed. Toys were scattered across the floor. A wooden yo-yo. A stuffed rabbit. Toy cars. A Kiko doll.
And there were five children. Sitting in a circle, playing house.
The one in front was a long-haired girl in white. Tina. She turned around. Smiled. "Come here, Mr. Aziz. Sit here."
Beside her was a chubby boy holding a stuffed rabbit. Andi. A girl wearing a ribbon. Sara. A boy wearing glasses. Budi. And in the middle, holding Kiko, was Little Kiko. About six years old.
They were all... slightly transparent. Like holograms.
Aziz's four cats immediately went inside and sat outside the circle. They didn't hiss. They weren't afraid. Instead... they were calm.
"This used to be our house, Mr. Aziz," Tina said. "Before the fire."
Aziz finally realized it. This was that house. But five years ago. The paint hadn't peeled yet. There was no musty smell.
"Why did you call me?" Aziz asked. His voice was hoarse. "Because you're lonely," Little Kiko answered. "Just like us. Lonely."
Tina pointed to an empty chair. "Come play. Just this once."
Aziz sat down. Automatically. The moment he did, the door behind him closed on its own. _Thud._
A plastic cup was filled with "tea." It smelled like real tea. Warm. Aziz drank it. His dry throat immediately felt relieved.
"We've been waiting five years for a good person, Mr. Aziz," Budi said. "Someone who would listen. Someone who would stay with us." "Other people ran when they saw us," Sara continued. "But you didn't."
Andi held out the wooden yo-yo. "This is mine. Want to play?"
Aziz took it. It was cold. But once he held it, it grew warm.
Suddenly, the lights flickered. The smell of smoke seemed to be coming from the kitchen.
"Fire... fire again..." Little Kiko whispered. His face was panicked.
The five children immediately fell silent. Their gazes went blank.
A flashback. Aziz saw it like he was watching a movie. On a rainy night five years ago, a short circuit caused sparks to fly from the kitchen. Their mother screamed in panic, unable to carry the children out one by one. Tina fell from the stairs while trying to get Kiko. Andi, Sara, and Budi were trapped in the bedroom. Kiko burned along with his doll.
Screams rang out, chilling and desperate, as the room grew hot and dark.
Aziz returned to the pink living room. The five children lowered their heads. They were crying. But there were no tears.
"We can't leave, Mr. Aziz," Tina said. "Because we're curious. Who will take care of this house? Who will love our toys?"
Aziz understood. "So... you've become wandering spirits, waiting for a sitter?"
"Five years," Little Kiko said. "Until you came."
Silence. Only the sound of rain outside. Even though it wasn't raining in here.
Aziz's phone rang again. Number: _UNKNOWN_
Aziz hesitated before answering. His hand trembled as he held the phone, frightened. He didn't know who was calling him, but even though he was unsure, Aziz tried to process what the caller was saying. His heart pounded wildly with fear. He turned on the speaker.