After Mara… something changed.
For the first time since I moved into this apartment, there was no sound at night. No hands from under the bed. No writing on the mirror. Just silence. Heavy, but relieving.
I thought I was free. Or at least one step closer.
But when I opened Liana's List that morning, the next item seemed to glow on the paper, as if the ink was still wet:
3. Bury the box
And I knew — this peace was only a pause.
The next storm was waiting.
I still remembered the box. Small. Old. Hidden beneath the floorboard under the bed. Inside: photos of Liana, and one image I could never erase from my memory — a grinning white face inside the closet.
I hadn't dared to open it again since that first night.
But now, I had no choice.
Carefully, I pulled the floorboard back. The wooden box was still there. The same, yet somehow… different.
Its wood looked darker. Damp. As if something was alive inside.
As I touched it, the air grew cold.
I sat on the floor and opened the lid.
The photos were still there. But now, there was something else.
A key. Small, rusted.
And a long strand of hair, neatly tied with a black ribbon.
I nearly dropped everything.
What is this?
Who keeps hair like this?
I picked up the key. It felt ice-cold.
Beneath it was a small envelope.
I thought it was a letter. But it wasn't.
Inside was just one word, written in large letters on a worn-out piece of paper:
"DO NOT BURN."
I sat there for hours, trying to understand.
Why did Liana want me to bury this box?
And what did that warning mean? Why write "do not burn" unless it was something someone might try?
I thought hard. But something kept disturbing me.
A feeling… that I was being watched.
When I turned to the mirror in the corner of the room, I understood why.
Someone was standing there.
Not me.
A woman's shadow — long hair, empty eyes, and a white dress — stood behind me. But when I turned around… the room was empty.
The mirror had lied.
Or maybe, it told a truth I couldn't see directly.
I knew then. This box wasn't just a keepsake. It was a source.
Or maybe, a prison.
That afternoon, I decided to bury the box.
But where?
This apartment had no garden. No backyard.
But… there was the attic.
I had never tried going up there before — the stairs were always locked. But now I had a key.
And when I raised the key toward the old wooden stairs, a soft click sounded.
The stairs opened slowly, like an invitation.
The attic was dark.
The air reeked of mold, dust, and something far fouler. I turned on a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and stepped in, box in hand.
The room was larger than I expected. Filled with piles of old things: suitcases, faded paintings, broken dolls.
And in the middle of it all — a hole in the floor.
Already dug.
Right there. As if someone knew I would come.
I stood at the edge of the hole, my hands trembling.
Then I heard a sound.
Not from outside. From inside the box.
Like something breathing… slow, wet, and pained.
I wanted to throw it away. Fling it far from me.
But I knew I had to finish this.
I placed the box into the hole and began covering it with the damp earth that was already there.
As the soil touched the box, the air around me shifted.
Pressure dropped. Light dimmed. And the sound… began to cry.
Soft weeping. Like a little girl.
Then laughter. Thin. Mad.
Then—silence.
As the last bit of dirt covered the box, the attic mirror — the only item in the room that looked untouched — began to fog.
I stepped closer.
Words slowly formed:
"She is free. But the others are waking."
I stared at the writing for a long time.
The others?
Before I could ask, the mirror cracked.
Split down the middle, like a wound opening.
And when I looked into that crack, I saw… eyes.
Not mine.
I ran downstairs.
Shut the attic door and locked it again with the rusted key.
I wanted to throw that key away, but when I looked at my hand… it was gone.
Vanished.
Suddenly, as if it had never existed.
Back in my room, I opened Liana's List again.
Item number three was now crossed out.
3. Bury the box
But below it, a new line had appeared — one that wasn't there before.
Written in fresh, black ink:
"Some things stay buried. Others dig back."
I sat on the floor, trying to make sense of it all.
Every task I completed wasn't just bringing me closer to the end of this contract… it was also unlocking another layer of the curse.
Maybe Liana wasn't the only one trapped here.
Maybe more than one soul… wanted out.
And one thing I learned today:
Not everything that's buried wants to stay dead.