The next morning she said the same thing. Then again the next day. Each time her voice grew quieter. One Friday she stared at me for a long moment and asked, “Mom, did you come into my room at night while I was sleeping?”
I knelt in front of her and said gently, “No, sweetheart. I stayed in bed with your dad all night.”
Sophie swallowed and whispered, “Then who was beside me?”
I forced a smile and said, “Sometimes our minds play tricks when we dream. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
But I was afraid. When I told Ryan, he tried to comfort me. He said, “Kids imagine things. She probably had a half dream. The house is safe.”
I nodded, though the look in Sophie’s eyes would not leave my thoughts. That evening, after everyone slept, I ordered a small camera online. I told myself I only wanted reassurance.
Two days later I installed the camera in the corner of Sophie’s room near the ceiling. I checked the feed before bed and saw my daughter sleeping peacefully, curled under her blanket. I finally breathed with relief.
At two in the morning I woke up thirsty. Half asleep, I walked to the kitchen and glanced at my phone. On impulse I opened the camera feed.
My heart stopped.