The last page read:
“Forgive me. I was going to take this secret with me, but I’m afraid they’ll come back one day. If that happens… take our son far away. Don’t come back.”
I closed the notebook, my heart pounding. I remembered faces and situations that hadn’t seemed strange before, but that now took on a sinister meaning.
Outside, the neighbor’s dog was barking furiously… and suddenly, there was absolute silence.
I turned toward the front door, which vibrated softly as if someone had just knocked on it. A shiver ran down my spine. I looked toward the room where my son was sleeping, then at the still-open box.
Without thinking, I stuffed the notebook into my jacket, closed the box, and pushed it to the back of the closet. I understood that all my questions would have to wait… if I ever got the chance.
A knock sounded at the door: slow, heavy. I took a deep breath, walked over, and opened it. The light from the hallway illuminated the silhouette of a person standing motionless, their face hidden in shadow.
In a deep, raspy voice, they said only three words:
“It’s time.”
In that instant, I knew that, from that moment on, my son’s life and mine would never be the same.