The house had a peculiar way of absorbing noises. Even at midday, when sunlight poured generously through the tall windows, the silence pressed on my ears like an oppressive weight. Every creak of the hardwood floors under my shoes seemed amplified, almost accusatory, like I was an intruder in a place that didn't want me.
It had been a week since I began working at the Adaora mansion, and in that time, I had grown familiar with its peculiar rhythm. There was Madam Adaora's commanding voice that rang out like thunder, the muted footsteps of the other staff scurrying about their tasks, and the unrelenting stillness that filled the sprawling corridors like an invisible mist. But the stillness wasn't peaceful. It was the sort that pricked at the edges of your awareness, making you hyper-conscious of your surroundings. I often wondered if the house had secrets woven into its walls, buried beneath its pristine façade.
That day, I was cleaning the second-floor corridor when my eyes were drawn, yet again, to the door at the far end of the east wing. It was unlike the others. While the rest of the mansion's doors were grand and inviting, this one was simple—almost plain. Its unremarkable design would have rendered it invisible if not for the air it carried, a subtle, magnetic pull that set it apart.
I remembered the first time I noticed it, during my initial tour of the mansion. Madam Adaora's words had been sharp and clear. "Don't go near that door," she had warned, her tone leaving no room for questions. "You're here to work, not snoop."
At the time, I hadn't thought much of it. Wealthy people were often secretive, guarding parts of their lives as fiercely as they flaunted others. But now, as I stood there with my cleaning cloth in hand, I couldn't stop staring at the door. It seemed to hum with unspoken promises and unasked questions.
The corridor was empty. I glanced over my shoulder to confirm. Chidi, the driver, was out with Dr. Dapo, and Madam Adaora was entertaining a group of elegantly dressed women in the parlor downstairs. This was my chance.
Taking a cautious step forward, I felt my pulse quicken. The closer I got, the heavier the air seemed, as if the walls themselves disapproved of my approach. Yet something urged me on, a pull I couldn't name. My fingers brushed against the door's surface. It was cold, unnaturally so, and smooth beneath my touch.
It was locked.
Of course, it was locked.
I let out a shaky breath, my heart hammering in my chest. It was just a door, I told myself. But even as I tried to dismiss it, the questions swirled in my mind. Why was it locked? Why had Madam Adaora been so adamant about staying away from it?
I turned to leave, but something on the floor caught my eye. A faint scuff mark trailed from the middle of the corridor right up to the door. It looked like something heavy had been dragged across the floor recently. My skin prickled. The mark was so faint I might have missed it if I hadn't been standing so close.
Footsteps echoed from the staircase, snapping me out of my reverie. My heart lurched, and I quickly resumed my task, dusting the already immaculate hallway as if my life depended on it.
Later that night, as I lay in my modest room on the third floor, the door consumed my thoughts. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the image of its plain surface or the scuff mark leading up to it. I replayed Madam Adaora's warning in my mind, noting the edge in her voice, the subtle hint of something more than just displeasure.
The mansion held other mysteries too. There were the hushed arguments I'd overheard between Madam Adaora and Dr. Dapo late at night when they thought the staff was asleep. Then there was the locked drawer in the study, which she guarded fiercely, and the faint metallic smell that lingered in the basement despite the house being spotless.
I tried to push the thoughts away, convincing myself it was all in my head. But the unease gnawed at me, making sleep impossible.
The next day, I couldn't help but notice the way Madam Adaora carried herself, as though she were perpetually on edge. Her sharp commands came with an extra bite, and she seemed to watch the staff more closely than usual. It made me wonder if she suspected I had approached the door.
As the week wore on, the mystery only deepened. One evening, as I was finishing my duties, I heard muffled voices from the east wing. Madam Adaora and Dr. Dapo were arguing again, but this time their voices were louder, more heated.
"You can't keep this up," Dr. Dapo said, his voice tight with frustration. "It's dangerous."
"And what would you have me do?" Madam Adaora snapped. "Let everything unravel? Do you have any idea what's at stake?"
Their words sent a chill through me. I crept closer, staying out of sight as their voices dropped to a whisper. I couldn't make out the rest of their conversation, but the tension in the air was palpable.
That night, I dreamed of the door. In my dream, it wasn't locked. I turned the handle, and it swung open to reveal a room shrouded in darkness. A single, faint light flickered in the distance, illuminating something I couldn't quite make out. The metallic smell from the basement was overwhelming, and the air felt heavy, suffocating.
I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart racing. It was just a dream, I told myself. But it felt so real.
The following days were uneventful, but the door remained in the back of my mind, a constant, nagging presence. I started to notice small details I hadn't before. The way Madam Adaora's eyes darted towards the east wing whenever someone mentioned it. The way Chidi avoided the corridor altogether. And then there was the strange noise I heard one night—a faint thumping sound that seemed to come from behind the door.
I wanted to ignore it, to pretend none of it mattered. But the pull was too strong. The house was trying to tell me something, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the door was the key to whatever secrets it was hiding.
One evening, when the house was unusually quiet, I found myself standing in front of the door again. My hand hovered over the surface, my resolve wavering. This time, I pressed my ear against it, straining to hear anything on the other side.
At first, there was nothing but silence. But then, faintly, I heard it—a soft, rhythmic sound, like breathing.
I stumbled back, my heart pounding. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. I didn't know what was behind the door, but I was certain of one thing: the Adaora mansion was a place of secrets, and this door held the darkest one of all.