I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was a text message from my mom, ‘Just wrapping up at the checkout line now, do you want us to pick up anything else before we head home?" My stomach dropped. If my mom was still at the grocery, who just called my name? I stood perfectly still staring down into the dimly lit foyer. The front door was shut and deadbolted. There were no grocery bags on the floor. Then, the same voice called out from the darkness of the kitchen around the corner, but this time, the tone was completely flat and monotone, devoid of any human emotion, “Sweetie, can you come down here?" I didn't answer. I backed slowly into my bedroom, locked the door, and waited on my bed with a baseball bat until I heard my parents' car pull into the driveway 20 minutes later. (2/2)(edited)
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