I held the photo in my hands.
My fingers were shaking.
The house behind the smiling family in the picture — it was this house.
Same cracked steps. Same ivy on the porch. Same crooked chimney.
But the people…
Not Mama.
And not me.
I heard footsteps. Fast. Heavy.
I turned, and there she was.
Mama.
Standing in the hallway, face pale, eyes wide.
Her mouth was trembling.
"Lucas," she said, like my name hurt to say. "What are you doing down here?"
I held up the photo.
Her eyes went glassy.
"Who are they?" I asked.
Silence.
Then, her lips curled. "No one. That photo is old. Throw it away."
"But it's this house."
"They were bad people."
"But I'm not in it."
That's when her hands started shaking.
She stepped toward me. Not fast. Not slow.
Her voice cracked.
"You don't ask questions, Lucas. That's Rule Four. Do you remember?"
I nodded. "But—"
"NO BUTS!"
Her scream hit the walls like a hammer.
The photo dropped from my hand.
I stepped back.
My foot slipped on something sticky.
I fell.
Mama knelt down fast. Grabbed my face with both hands. Her eyes were wild and wet.
"I love you," she whispered. "I love you, Lucas. Don't listen to the ghosts. They lie."
Her nails dug into my cheeks.
She smelled like sweat and metal.
Then… she let go.
She stood up, breathing hard.
"Go back upstairs."
Her voice was flat now.
Like ice.
I didn't move.
She pointed.
"Now."
So I climbed the stairs.
One by one.
Without a word.
When I reached the hatch, I turned back.
She was still standing in the hallway, holding the photo.
She looked at it once…
Then ripped it into pieces.
And dropped it into the sink.
That night, she didn't bring dinner.
The hatch stayed shut.
But I heard her.
Downstairs.
Crying.
Saying something over and over.
"I did it for you… I did it for you… I did it for you…"
I don't know what "it" is.
But I think I'm starting to remember things that don't match her stories.
Things that feel like they used to be real.
Things from before the Cloud Room.