Chapter 3

“But you’ve got it wrong. Tommy took the day off today to go to a party with his Papa. How could he still be in the haunted house?

“Do you think I, Holly Spark, am a fool?”

I suddenly remembered that Tommy had indeed taken the morning off.

His father only brought him in the afternoon, claiming it was inconvenient to have Tommy around for his date.

There was no time to explain.

The children’s cries grew louder, and I nearly shouted back.

Worried I would frighten them more, I lowered my voice as I spoke, “Mrs. Spark, this is the person who just spoke with you. Your son, Tommy, is here in my arms. He has claustrophobia, correct?

“He’s already having trouble breathing. Please send someone immediately to open the door!”

I spoke quickly.

Silence fell on the other end of the line.

For a moment, all I could hear was my own and the children’s ragged breathing.

Seconds dragged by, and then Holly laughed softly.

Her reaction unsettled me even more.

“I already told you—pay, and I’ll call the repairmen,” she said, her voice dripping with scorn.

“You’re just trying to trick me so you don’t have to pay!

“Tommy’s homeroom teacher is a woman in her forties. Your voice sounds no older than twenty or thirty—still trying to fool me?”

She moved to hang up.

Beside me, Levi clutched my hand, holding back tears.

His voice trembled as he said, “Mrs. Spark, it’s Levi! I’m Tommy’s class monitor.

“You spoke to me at his birthday last time. Don’t you remember? Our previous teacher, Mr. Liam Patterson, got sick, and now Miss Cambria is our homeroom teacher!”

“What a horrible child! Trying to take advantage of others from such a young age,” Holly burst out.

“If your Tommy really is there, why don’t you let him speak to me?”

I held the watch to Tommy’s mouth.

Sweat streaked his face, his skin tinged purple.

He opened his mouth but could not form the words.

My heart burned with anxiety.

“Mrs. Sparks, your son is trembling and can’t speak. If you don’t send someone to open the door immediately, it’ll be too late for him!”

Despite my urgency and panic, Holly remained unbothered, humming slowly with amusement.

The frantic rhythm of my breathing and the children’s stifled cries became music she seemed to savor.

Pleasure laced her voice, “I said, if you want to get out, you have to pay first.”

At the same moment, Tommy whispered hoarsely as he trembled in my arms, “Mama…”

Holly paused for an instant, but then her voice flared with anger, “You heartless people! What does it matter if you found a voice like my son’s? I won’t be fooled!

“If you refuse to pay, then spend the night in the haunted house!”

She slammed the phone down.

The watch dimmed, and darkness fell over the room once more.

The children could no longer hold back, wailing one by one, their cries tearing through the silence.

“Waaah! Help! Mom, I want my mom!”

“I don’t want… I don’t want to sleep here. I want to go home…”

“Waaah!”

Dozens of children cried at once.

My head felt ready to burst. I hurried to soothe them gently.

“Everyone, don’t cry. Listen to me.

“Don’t be afraid. Remember what I said—when we face danger, we call the police, right?

“I’m calling the police to come save us, so stop crying, everyone.

“If we keep crying, Tommy will get worse.

“If you’re scared, let’s hold hands and sit together, okay?”