Chapter 4: The Missing Five Minutes
The screen flickered, and the hallway view loaded in high-definition clarity. The lighting was identical to the afternoon sun they remembered, casting long, pale beams across the floorboards. For the first few seconds, the frame was entirely empty. The white wall, the closed doorway, and the mounted security camera were silent witnesses to an unpeopled space.
Then, Arthur walked into the frame from the left. He was carrying the white laundry basket, his light blue dress shirt looking crisp and clean. But it was his demeanor that made Sarah catch her breath behind him. On the live playback, Arthur did not walk with his usual easy stride. He moved with a mechanical, jerky precision, his head snapping toward the empty doorway before he had even reached it.
“Look at his posture,” Robert whispered, his voice tense. “That’s not normal.”
On screen, Arthur stopped walking. He set the laundry basket down, but instead of turning toward the room to check on Lily, he stood completely motionless for nearly forty seconds, staring directly into the lens of the security camera. His face on the screen was a mask of cold, unreadable detachment—a stark contrast to the warm, concerned father he claimed to be.
“Arthur,” Sarah said, her hands gripping his shoulders tighter, her fingers digging into his shirt. “Why are you staring at the camera like that?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur replied, his voice barely audible. He felt a cold sweat break out along his spine. He had no memory of standing there, staring at the lens. On the tablet, the video continued to roll.
In the next frame, Lily appeared from the doorway. She wasn't crying yet; she walked out quietly, holding her favorite rag doll. She stopped a few feet from Arthur and looked up at him.
On the audio track, the room’s ambient sound was eerily clear. The low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the distant chirp of a bird outside, and then—Arthur’s voice, cold and flat.
“Did you tell them what you saw?” Arthur’s voice on the recording asked.
Lily shook her head, her small face scrunching up in fear. “No,” the little girl on the screen whispered. “I didn't tell.”
“Good,” Arthur’s digital double replied. “Because if you tell, the man in the wall won't bring your mother back.”
May you like
The kitchen in the present day went dead silent. Helen gasped, putting a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at her son. Sarah let go of Arthur’s shoulders instantly, staggering backward from the table as if the man sitting in front of her had suddenly turned into a stranger.
“What is that?” Sarah demanded, her voice rising with a frantic, trembling edge. “Arthur, what the hell is that recording? Who is the man in the wall?”
