Shayla
In the following weeks, strange events began to plague my life. It started with an anonymous text: "You can't hide from me." I dismissed it as a prank at first, but then came the notes in the mailbox—cryptic, unsettling messages that sent chills down my spine. One read, "I see you," and another simply said, "Soon."
The tension in the household was palpable, and my growing paranoia began to affect the children.
One evening, as I was preparing dinner, Ethan came up to me, his face etched with worry. "Mom, are we in danger?"
I knelt down to his level, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why do you ask that, sweetie?"
"Because you seem scared all the time," he said, glancing towards the windows. "And Shawn and I hear you talking to Chris about safety and bad people."
