gemmamawdsley

When the cellar finally falls silent, the echoes remain. The world above carries on — footsteps on streets, voices in kitchens, the rhythm of ordinary life — but beneath it all lies an absence too heavy to name. Rachael’s voice is gone, yet her fear lingers in the cracks of memory, in the uneasy hush that settles where a child should be. Those who knew her speak less as the years pass, though some cannot help but look over their shoulders when night falls. For the story is not finished. What was taken does not simply vanish. It waits.