THE FORGOTTEN ROOM (chapter 2)

Chapter 2 — The Person Who Wasn’t There

When Efe woke, his throat burned.

He was on the floor of his bedroom, sprawled beneath the humming ceiling fan, sunlight crawling weakly across the walls. For a moment, he thought maybe he had blacked out in the hall and dreamed the whole thing. The door. The diary. The photographs. The whisper.

Except the stuffed rabbit was still there.

It sat in the corner, grey fur dulled with grime, one button eye staring at him.

His stomach lurched. He shoved it under the bed with his foot like a guilty secret, then grabbed his phone. The screen lit up, but the date shocked him— August 21st. The same date he had read in the diary. His hands shook as he scrolled through contacts.

He dialed Tunde. His closest friend, the one who’d come over a dozen times to drink cheap beer and laugh about old campus days.

The call rang twice, then picked up.

“Hello?”

Efe’s heart leapt with relief. “Guy! Thank God. Something mad just happened. I need you to—”

“Sorry… who’s this?”

He froze. “It’s me. Efe.”

Silence. Then a confused chuckle.

“You must have the wrong number.”

The line went dead.

He stared at the phone. Tried again. Same voice, same man, but this time there was no hesitation. The stranger didn’t know him.

Panic prickled under his skin. He scrolled through his photos. Every picture of him and Tunde — gone. Empty chairs where his friend had once sat. Blank space at his side in group photos. A birthday selfie with arms curled around nothing.

His breath came fast and shallow.

The room was already working.

Later, desperate, he stormed across the hall to his neighbor’s flat. Mrs. Olawale opened the door, her wrapper tied loose around her waist. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him.

“Efe. You look sick. What happened?”

He tried to steady his voice. “Do you… remember my friend? Tunde. He came here once. Tall, light-skinned, always laughing too loud?”

Her face wrinkled in confusion. “Who?”

His chest sank.

“No, no, you must remember. He helped me move the fridge up the stairs two months ago—”

“Efe,” she interrupted gently, “you’ve lived here three years. I’ve never seen anyone help you with anything.”

Her words sliced deep. He staggered back, muttering apologies, and she closed the door with a worried look.

The hallway pulsed strangely in his vision, stretching like it had in the night. His eyes flicked left.

The door was there again.

Waiting.

Inside the room, the bulb still swayed faintly though the air was heavy. The diary lay on the desk, open to a new page. His breath caught when he saw the fresh ink:

They won’t remember him. They won’t remember the next. One by one, they will be erased, until only you remain to watch yourself vanish.

A cold weight pressed down on him. He shut the diary, but another noise drew his attention.

The armchair creaked again.

This time, when it turned, there was something in it.

Not a person exactly — more like the shadow of a person, featureless, slumped in the seat. Yet in its faceless outline, he recognized Tunde. He felt the recognition more than saw it, like memory and presence tangled together.

The shadow raised a hand, slow and broken.

His phone buzzed. He yanked it out, pulse hammering. A text lit the screen:

DON’T LET THEM FIND ME.

No name. No number. Just the message.

His hand shook so hard he dropped the phone. When he bent to pick it up, the shadow was gone.

The room was empty again.

By nightfall, Efe sat in darkness, rocking slightly on his bed. His curtains were drawn, lights off, door locked. His phone lay useless at his side. His chest ached with the heavy knowledge pressing in.

If Tunde had been erased so cleanly, who was next?

He whispered to himself, over and over, like a prayer:

“I was real once. I was real once. I was real once…”

But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure anymore.

In his photo albums, his own reflection was beginning to blur.

⚡️ End of Chapter 2.

CHAPTER 3