Chapter 6
Chapter 6 – The Sound Between the Walls
The sound came back on a Tuesday.
Not loud.
Not clear.
Just… there.
Mariana was folding laundry in the hallway when she froze, one sock halfway to the basket. The house had that afternoon hush—the kind that made every movement feel too loud, every breath noticeable. Inés was coloring on the living room floor, humming to herself. The TV was off. The refrigerator wasn’t running.
And yet—
thump.
Mariana held her breath.
It wasn’t the floor this time.
It came from the wall.
She pressed her palm against the paint near the baseboard. The wall was cool, smooth. Too ordinary. Too solid. She almost laughed at herself, almost blamed the old plumbing, the way pipes knock when the temperature shifts.
Then Inés stopped humming.
“Mommy,” she said softly, without looking up. “He’s awake again.”
Mariana’s stomach dropped.
“Who’s awake, sweetheart?” Her voice sounded wrong to her own ears—tight, rehearsed.
Inés lifted her head. Her eyes were serious in a way that didn’t belong to a five-year-old.
“Leo,” she said. “He’s scared.”
The sock slid from Mariana’s fingers.
“We talked about this,” Mariana said, forcing a smile as she knelt beside her daughter. “Leo isn’t here. He’s—”
“He’s behind the walls now,” Inés interrupted. “He moved.”
Mariana’s chest tightened. “Moved from where?”
Inés pointed—not to the floor this time, but to the hallway wall. The one that ran behind the bathroom. The one they’d never opened. The one Patricia had insisted didn’t need repairs.
“He doesn’t like it there,” Inés continued. “It’s dark and loud. And he says the lady gets angry when he cries.”
Mariana stood up too fast. The room tilted.
“Which lady?” she asked.
Inés shrugged. “The one who smells like flowers and metal.”
Mariana’s knees nearly buckled.
Patricia wore floral perfume. Always had.
“No,” Mariana whispered, more to herself than to her daughter. “No, no, no…”
The sound came again.
Scrape.
This time it was unmistakable.
It was slow. Deliberate.
Like fingers dragging across wood.
Mariana grabbed Inés and backed away from the wall, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure her daughter could hear it.
“We’re going outside,” she said. “Right now.”
“But Leo—”
“Outside,” Mariana repeated sharply, already reaching for her phone.
They barely made it to the porch before Mariana dialed emergency services with shaking fingers.
The operator’s voice was calm. Too calm.
“What’s your emergency?”
“I think—” Mariana swallowed hard. “I think there’s someone inside my walls.”
A pause.
“Ma’am, can you explain?”
“My daughter hears a child. My son. He—he disappeared six months ago. And now there are sounds. Scratching. Movement.”
Another pause. Longer.
“Are you alone in the house?”
“No,” Mariana said. “My daughter is with me.”
“Is anyone else present?”
“No.”
“Ma’am,” the operator said carefully, “are you certain this isn’t—”
The sound interrupted her.
A knock.
Three short taps.
From inside the wall.
Mariana screamed.
The line went dead for half a second—then the operator’s voice snapped back, suddenly urgent.
“Stay outside. Do not re-enter the house. Officers are on the way.”
They waited on the porch, Inés clinging to Mariana’s neck, while the house sat behind them—silent again. Too silent.
When the police arrived, they searched the rooms, the crawlspace, the attic. They tapped on walls, listened, shrugged.
“There’s nothing here,” one officer said gently. “No signs of forced entry. No animals.”
“But you heard it,” Mariana insisted. “You must have—”
“We didn’t hear anything,” he replied. “Could be stress. Trauma. Kids imagine things.”
Inés lifted her head. “He’s not imaginary.”
The officer smiled awkwardly.
“He was quiet because you brought strangers,” Inés added. “He doesn’t trust men in uniforms.”
The smile vanished.
An ambulance arrived shortly after. A female paramedic stepped out, clipboard in hand.
She froze the moment she saw Inés.
Not politely. Not subtly.
She froze like someone had punched the air from her lungs.
Mariana noticed immediately.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
The paramedic swallowed. “No. I’m sorry. I just—”
She stared at Inés’s face. At her eyes. Her mouth.
“You look just like him,” the paramedic whispered.
Mariana’s heart skipped. “Like who?”
The woman blinked, visibly pulling herself back together. “I—never mind. Let’s just check you over.”
Inside the ambulance, the paramedic’s hands trembled as she took Inés’s vitals. She avoided Mariana’s gaze.
“What’s your name?” she asked Inés.
“Inés,” the girl replied. “Do you know my brother?”
The paramedic’s pen dropped.
She bent to pick it up, breathing hard. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because you’re scared,” Inés said matter-of-factly. “And because you saw him.”
The paramedic looked at Mariana then—really looked at her. Her face had gone pale.
“Ma’am,” she said quietly, “how did your son disappear?”
Mariana’s throat tightened. “He vanished. During a renovation. My sister was supervising the work. One minute he was playing. The next—he was gone.”
The paramedic closed her eyes.
“I was on a call that day,” she said. “A child… trapped. Behind a wall. Construction site gone wrong.”
Mariana’s blood ran cold.
“They called it off,” the paramedic continued. “Declared it a false alarm. No body. No evidence. But I heard him.”
Inés smiled faintly. “That was Leo.”
The ambulance felt suddenly very small.
“Where?” Mariana whispered. “Where did you hear him?”
The paramedic hesitated. “The address was wrong. Or changed. I tried to go back later. It didn’t exist anymore.”
She looked toward the house.
“This place… used to be something else.”
Mariana stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
The paramedic shook her head slowly. “Ma’am, I think your sister lied.”
The sound came again.
This time, all three of them heard it.
A child’s voice.
Faint. Hoarse.
“Mama?”
Mariana sobbed.
The paramedic didn’t move.
She couldn’t.
May you like
She was frozen.
And somewhere between the walls, Leo was still alive.
