I woke up before my alarm went off.
The room was still dark. Morning light hadn't entered through the gap in the curtains yet, but I could already feel cold sweat on my back. For a while, I just stared at the ceiling, trying to remember where I was.
Then the dream came back.
The White Expanse. Daryl without a face. Dad with huge wings on his back.
And that house.
I reached for my phone beside my pillow. 4:17 a.m.
The numbers made my chest feel tight.
In the dream, I didn't know how long we'd been walking. But I was sure that when we saw the house, the clock in the dream had shown the same numbers.
4:17.
I closed my eyes, hoping the memory would disappear. Instead, Dad's voice grew clearer.
“Welcome Home.”
I sat up immediately.
From downstairs came the sound of something falling.
My heart began pounding again.
“Dad?” I called.
There was no answer.
I got out of bed and opened my bedroom door. The hallway outside was dark, just like always. The family photo hanging on the wall was still in its place. I tried to calm myself by looking at it.
There I was, along with Leya, Nia, Jeremi, Daryl, Mom, and Dad.
Seven people.
I moved closer.
Something was wrong.
Daryl's face in the photo was blurry.
It wasn't because the photo was old. Everyone else's faces were clear—even the fine lines around Dad's eyes were visible. Only Daryl's face looked as if it were covered in white fog.
I wiped the surface of the glass.
The blur didn't disappear.
Then I heard footsteps coming from downstairs.
One step.
Then another.
I held my breath.
“Who's there?”
The footsteps stopped.
From the bottom of the stairs, someone answered in a quiet voice.
“Don't come down.”
It was Daryl's voice.
I froze.
“Daryl?”
There was no answer.
I turned on the hallway light. Yellow light filled the space, but there was no one on the stairs. The front door was still locked. The windows were tightly shut.
My phone vibrated.
A message came in from a number I didn't recognize.
Don't open Dad's bedroom door.
I stared at the message for a long time. My fingers felt cold.
Dad had been dead for three years.
There shouldn't have been a bedroom for Dad in this house anymore. After he passed away, Mom locked the room and never mentioned it again.
But when I raised my head, the door at the end of the hallway appeared to be slightly open.
Dad's bedroom door.
I knew I should call Mom. I knew I should leave and wake everyone up. But the fear I felt was mixed with something stronger: the desire to find out what was really happening.
I walked closer.
Every step sounded far too loud.
The door was open about a hand's width. The smell of wet earth drifted from inside, like a yard after the rain. Strangely, there was no light at all beneath the door.
I pushed it open slowly.
The room was empty.
The old furniture was still neatly arranged. Dad's chair faced the window. A wooden wardrobe stood in the corner. On the table sat a small white box.
I'd never seen the box before.
My name was written on top of it.
I was just about to touch it when I heard Mom's voice behind me.
“Don't.”
I turned around.
Mom stood in the hallway, her face pale. She didn't look like someone who had just woken up. Her eyes were fixed on the box as if it could bite her.
“You know about this?” I asked.
Mom didn't answer.
“Why is Dad's room open?”
She walked over quickly, then closed the bedroom door. Her hand trembled as she turned the key.
“I told you never to come in here.”
“Why?”
“Because your father hasn't really left.”
I stared at her.
The sentence sounded like something that should never have been said.
Mom gripped both my shoulders.
“Listen to me. If someone calls your name from inside that room, don't answer. No matter what you hear, don't open the door.”
“Mom, what's really going on?”
Mom's expression changed. For the first time since Dad died, I saw such obvious fear in her eyes.
“Tomorrow, we're leaving this house.”
Before I could ask anything else, there was a knock from behind the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Mom gripped my hand tightly.
The knocking stopped.
Then Dad's voice came from inside.
“Go home.”
Mom covered her own mouth to keep from screaming.
I couldn't move.
The voice sounded exactly like it had in my dream. Calm, gentle, and far too familiar to belong to anyone else.
Then something slipped out through the gap beneath the door.
A sheet of white paper.
The paper stopped right in front of my feet.
With trembling hands, I picked it up.
There was only one sentence on its surface.
YOU'VE COME HOME BEFORE.
Beneath the sentence was a picture of a two-story house.
The same house as in my dream.
I stared at the picture, then slowly realized something that made my blood run cold.
Seven people stood in front of the house.
I recognized Leya, Nia, Jeremi, Daryl, Mom, and Dad.
The seventh person was me.
But in the picture, my face was missing too.
Only a huge question mark.