PART 6 — THE VOICE FROM THE SHADOWS
Time seemed to stand still for a moment in the dark dune house. The wind howled around the facade, and inside we heard the breathing from the bedroom behind the living room grow louder. Lucas tensed all his muscles. I saw his knuckles turn white as he clenched his fists.
"Stay here," Lucas whispered resolutely, and before I could stop him, he walked with large strides toward the closed bedroom door.
The doorknob moved slowly. Lucas set his shoulder against the wood and pushed the door open with a powerful swing. The faint light of the hallway fell inside, illuminating a shabby bed in the corner of the room.
A figure lay on the bed. An old, emaciated man with sunken cheeks, glazed eyes, and a long white beard. He wore a worn woolen blanket over his shoulders and stared at us with a look that was as terrifying as it was familiar.
My hand flew to my mouth. A scream died in my throat.
This couldn't be true. My brain refused to believe what my eyes were seeing. The man lying there... he looked astonishingly like Willem. No, worse: it was Willem. But that was impossible. Willem had died fifteen years ago! I had seen the doctor sign the death certificate myself. I had arranged the funeral.
Lucas stood frozen in the doorway. His chest moved, but no sound came out. The man on the bed tremblingly raised a hand and fixed his eyes on us. A weak, painful smile appeared on his wrinkled lips.
"Lucas... boy...", croaked the old man with a voice that sounded like sandpaper scraping on stone. "You've... you've come."
Lucas stepped back as if struck by lightning. His face was dead pale. "No... no, that can't be. You're dead. You've been buried for fifteen years!"
The old man slowly shook his head, a movement that clearly cost him a lot of energy. He coughed dryly, closed his eyes briefly, and took a deep breath.
"It was... a play," he whispered. "A necessary lie... to save you."
My world collapsed. All those years of grief, all those tears at his grave, the lonely evenings at the cemetery in wind and weather... was all of that based on a lie? A lie invented by my own husband?
"Save?" I shouted, all the pent-up anger of thirty years breaking out at once. "Save from what, Willem?! You destroyed our whole life! You chased away your own son for thirty years and left me believing he hated us!"
Willem fixed his hollow eyes on me, and for the first time I saw no harshness in his gaze, but an endless, deep fear.
"Not... not me," he whispered, pointing a trembling finger toward the bedroom door. "There was... someone else after you. And that person... is on their way here right now."
