CALLUS [spoiler]

“I saw it! Something terrible is happening there! I saw it myself! You have to believe me!”But they didn’t want to believe me. They just stood there, staring at me like I was insane. And honestly, I can’t blame them — there I was, standing in the middle of a police station, screaming like a sick monkey.

Still, I knew that everything I had seen wasn’t exactly real — and yet I was certain it was happening for real.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to me. At first, no one ever believed me. They thought I was a little crazy. But over time, they started to listen — I’m talking about my parents.So there I was, yelling that I knew what was going on behind those doors.

A police officer approached me — tall, middle-aged, with a stern look and a hard stare. He asked me to follow him.

I was seated in a small office. It wasn’t an interrogation room. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but the officer was curious about what I had been shouting about in the hallway. He looked at me thoughtfully.

“Talk. Don’t waste my time,” he said dryly.

So I began my story.

I wasn’t myself anymore — it was as if I were watching everything from the outside. I saw him enter the apartment building and climb up to the fourth floor, to apartment number twenty-two. I never saw the building from the outside.It was his childhood apartment. No one lived there anymore — only a cat. Apparently, he had come to take it. I also had the feeling that there had been a funeral there recently, because the mirror was covered, but the sheet kept slipping off.He moved through the apartment, remembering his childhood.

“Get to the point,” the officer said.

That’s when I realized I didn’t even know his name. I continued.

I saw strange, horrifying images. They could have been memories, but it felt like everything was happening in real time. His mother was there. She was the one who had died a few days earlier — at least, judging by the sheet on the mirror.And she was a monster. She didn’t love him — she tormented him.

That time, he managed to leave the apartment and went to work at the hospital.

I kept talking and talking, describing everything I had seen. The story dragged on for about thirty minutes, but time flew by for me. Then I stopped.I needed to know whether he was taking me seriously, because the officer — whose name I still didn’t know — wasn’t writing anything down. In the movies, they always do.

The officer looked at me and said:

“I’m listening carefully, even if I’m not taking notes. And so far, you haven’t told me anything useful. I haven’t heard about any funerals in our district in the past few days. And I haven’t seen anyone on night duty at our children’s hospital except old Petrovich. And I still don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

I paused. He was right — I had dragged it out too much. So I moved on to the most important part.

“That boy,” I said, stumbling over my words, “he’s in the closet. They’re keeping him in the closet. Everything I saw — all of it — was his imagination. I felt his fear. His loneliness. His mother isn’t dead. He just wants her to be, because he can’t escape!”

I was out of breath. I finished as best I could. Now I wondered if I had been convincing enough. I didn’t care if they thought I was crazy. I just wanted to save him.

“Alright. Let’s say I believe you,” the officer said. “But I can’t break into every apartment numbered twenty-two just to check if he’s there or not.”

“I can give you more precise details,” I said. “What I saw in the stairwell. How many floors the building has. How many apartments. We can find him.”I spoke with both hope and disbelief that he actually believed me.

I strained my mind, trying to remember every detail. I described what the stairwell looked like, which apartments were on each side, on each floor. I mentioned that there was a Christmas tree there — which made sense, since the holidays had already ended.And then it hit me: I was glad I had come here after all.

The officer started writing everything down. Every single detail.

“That’s all. You’re free to go,” he said.

I almost choked.

“Free to go? What do you mean? What about the search? I can help! I saw everything! I’ll recognize that stairwell immediately! I’ll recognize the apartment too, once you find it! And then they’ll tell you there was never any boy there. But I saw his mother — I saw her standing on the landing, watching!”“Please, take me with you!”

I begged — and immediately realized I should have stopped sooner. The officer’s expression changed sharply.

“Alright. You’re right. You’ll be useful,” he said, still in that same serious tone.

“Phew…” I exhaled.

Then I watched as the officer began giving orders: two officers were sent to canvass the area, others were told to call the post office — maybe someone there had heard something. Everyone sprang into action.And I just sat there, thinking about how else I could help. I wanted to find him as soon as possible.

To be continued…