Lena stirred, her cheek cold against something smooth and hard. Groaning softly, she lifted her head and blinked into darkness. Her limbs ached as she slowly sat up, her fingers brushing against polished wood. She was lying on a hardwood floor—definitely not the worn carpet of the hallway she once stood in.

A faint crackle drew her eyes to the left. A fire flickered in a stone hearth nestled into the wall, casting golden light that barely pushed back the shadows. Then came the music.

“Jealous heart, oh jealous heart. Stop beating, can't you see the damage you have done?”

The voice from the phonograph was haunting, tinny yet deeply emotional. Lena felt a pang in her chest as the lyrics echoed in the quiet room. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she found herself breathless.

“You have driven her away forever. Jealous heart, now I’m the lonely one…”

She pressed a hand to her chest. The sadness in the voice felt… too close. Too personal. A lump formed in her throat as the tears finally fell.

“I… where am I?” she whispered.

The room was unfamiliar—its elegance both strange and old-fashioned. Tall bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, filled with leather-bound tomes. Two plush armchairs sat facing one another, each accompanied by a small dark wooden side table. The phonograph, spinning softly, sat atop a long chest of drawers. On either side of the phonograph sat two vases of fresh flowers, with a wide mirror stretched along the length of the chest of drawers.

Lena stood shakily, her bare feet cold against the wood. Her nightgown felt somehow out of place in this antique setting.

“This isn’t my house,” she said, her voice trembling.

She wandered toward the nearest bookshelf, scanning the spines. Her fingers hesitated over one title: The Heat of the Day by Elizabeth Bowen. She pulled it out and flipped it open.

“The liaison, from its clandestine inception…” the passage read, “…had about it the reticence of a dream…”

Lena frowned. “People don’t talk like this… do they?”

She shut the book and slid it back into place before turning to the small table by one of the chairs. A folded newspaper rested atop it. She reached for it with shaky fingers.

July 12, 1949.

She gasped.

“No… No, that can’t be right.”

Heart pounding, she stumbled to the nearby window, one of two that flanked the shelf. Pulling the velvet curtain aside, Lena’s jaw dropped.

Streetcars clattered down the lane outside. Men in fedoras and suspenders bustled along the sidewalks, while women in dresses that looked like they belonged in an old film noir walked arm-in-arm. The scent of smoke—thick and strange—wafted through the crack in the window.

“What the…?” she murmured.

She gently pulled the window shut, coughing at the residual stench, and turned just as a soft click echoed from across the room. Her eyes widened.

The door was opening.

Panic surged through her. On instinct, she ducked behind the velvet curtain, wrapping it clumsily around her frame. Her bare feet stuck out at the bottom, but she prayed the darkness would keep her hidden.

The door opened fully. The click of heels was followed by heavier, more deliberate steps. Then giggling. And then… kissing.

Lena’s stomach twisted. The intimate sounds filled the air. Breathy moans, a sigh. She held her breath, her muscles aching from stillness.

From somewhere deeper in the house, a man’s voice boomed.

“Miriam!”

The couple froze.

“You need to go, sugar! Quick, out the window now!” the woman whispered frantically.

Lena’s heart stopped. ‘No. Not this window. Please don't open this one.’

She could hear the man approaching. Her eyes squeezed shut. But instead of a scream or confrontation, she felt the man reach past her. The window creaked open.

Then—thud—he was gone, the bushes below rustling.

Lena exhaled silently. ‘He didn’t see me…’

The moment of relief was shattered by the door slamming open.

“There you are! Where is he?!”

The woman gasped. “W-what on earth could you mean, sweetie? I just came in here for a little respite away from the children—”

“Don’t lie to me!” the man roared. “Albert saw you! Said you were with one of them!”

His voice dripped with venom. Lena trembled as her father’s angry voice echoed in her mind—it was almost too much to bear.

“So help me, God, if you don’t tell me where he went, I’m taking the children and you’ll NEVER see them again!”

The woman sobbed, broken. Slowly, she raised her hand and pointed… to the window.

“You bastard!” the man shouted, throwing it open as he reached behind him, revealing an old style pistol. “I’ll make you regret touching my wife!”

The man outside must have lingered behind, thinking the husband would leave after noticing he wasn't there. He raised his hands in surrender. 

“No, sir! Please, I mean no harm—”

BANG!

Lena and the woman screamed as the gun fired. Lena’s ears rang. The smell of gunpowder hit her nose. She dared a glance: the man outside had now slumped to the ground, lifeless.

“Are you happy now? Look what you made me do!” The gun hung loosely in the man’s hand. The woman collapsed, sobbing.

“You’re a monster, Jefferson.”

As those words fell from her lips, the floor beneath Lena vanished. She screamed—but no sound came. A vortex of shadow swallowed her.

Then—she felt a familiar carpet beneath her feet.

Lena lay in the hallway of her home, blinking up at the ceiling lights that were now lit up. Red and blue strobes flashed against the walls. Police stood in a tight group nearby, murmuring.

She sat up slowly. Her body ached.

To her left, yellow tape crisscrossed the hallway, marking off the area. Two white tape outlines adorned the floor—one small, the other larger. Blood soaked the carpet between them. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Mom?” she whispered. “Dad?”

“Huh? That the missing kid?” a voice said.

An officer strode toward her, kneeling. “Where were you, kid?” he asked gently. She blinked at his badge.

Hayes.

Before she could answer, a wave of pain split through her skull. She cried out, gripping her head. The lights blurred. Her heart pounded like a drum.

“Hey! Kid—are you okay?!”

But his voice was far away now. Everything faded to black once more.