It was a stormy evening in London, the sky weeping rain as if mourning something unseen. The phone of Mr. Davies rang incessantly. A cold, emotionless voice came through the receiver — it was a police officer:

“We’re very sorry. A young woman was involved in a serious accident. Identification found on her indicates she may be your daughter. Please come to the City of Westminster Mortuary to confirm the body.”

Mr. Davies froze. His hands trembled as he hailed a black cab to the mortuary. His heart pounded violently — each beat crashing like thunder in his head. His only daughter, Eleanor, had just moved out two months ago for her first job in Manchester. She had called him that very morning, excited to share that she had received her first paycheck.

The mortuary was cold, the air heavy with the stench of formalin. Dim fluorescent lights flickered above. A stretcher was wheeled out, a white sheet covering the figure.

“Please prepare yourself,” whispered the forensic technician.

Davies swallowed hard. His fingers shook as he reached for the sheet. Slowly, he peeled it back…

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

A blood-curdling scream erupted from his throat, echoing through the corridor like a wail from the underworld.

He threw himself backward, collapsing onto the cold tile floor, then sprang to his feet and ran — like a man possessed.

No one could stop him.

The police hadn’t even had time to ask a single question.

He vanished into the downpour outside — as if swallowed by the night.

For the next three days, Mr. Davies’ house in Surrey remained shut tight. Neighbours assumed he was drowning in grief after seeing his daughter’s body.

But on the third day — a headline exploded across the news:

“Man Vanishes After Mortuary Visit, Found Dead in His Attic. Left Cryptic Symbols and Message Written in Blood: ‘SHE ISN’T MY DAUGHTER. THAT’S NOT ELEANOR!’”

The police began an investigation.

The body at the mortuary was re-examined. DNA tests showed a 95% match — almost definitive, but not quite.

And then came a more disturbing discovery:

CCTV footage from the mortuary on the day Mr. Davies arrived… showed no record of him ever leaving the building.

So then… who did the neighbours see come home that night?

Was the man hanging in the attic really Mr. Davies?

And the girl beneath the sheet…

Was she ever Eleanor at all?