Despite feeling exhausted, I struggled to fall asleep, mainly because of the unknown. It was both joyful and distressing. Whenever my grandmother and mother appeared in my dreams, there was usually a reason—often related to danger. I never imagined I would experience paranormal events to this extent as an adult. Since this house drew me in and took over my life, everything has felt unnatural—flinching at every sound or shadow had become our normal. Each night, I wondered what might happen when I closed my eyes. Tonight was no different. As sleep overtook me, I found myself in my attic, where, to my surprise, my mom was looking through boxes near the hidden room, appearing worried. She hurriedly searched through each box as if searching for something vital. Watching her for a moment, I smiled when I saw her in her favorite jeans and sweater.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I called to her and was more afraid of what she was about to tell me. She stopped rummaging in the boxes and locked eyes with me. The worried look never left her face as she walked over to me. Placing her hands on each of my arms, she commanded my attention with her actions.
"Baby girl, please listen to me carefully," she said, her voice trembling with fear and urgency. I nodded, encouraging her to go on. "Hurry up, wake Zeke, and get to the secret room as quickly as possible."
"Mom, what's wrong? Why do we need to hide?" I asked, trying to understand the situation. My mind raced through several scenarios, each one worse than the last. My breath hitched waiting for her following words.
"Please, sweetheart, do as I say. They're almost here," she pleaded. She released me and then pulled me into a hug, stroking my hair. "I love you, baby girl, so much," she cried.
"Ok, I will," I reassured her, but I needed to know who we were dealing with. "Who's almost here, Mom?" I asked one final time.
"The bad guys. They want to hurt you and Zeke," she said tearfully. "You're too close to the truth," she stated. Then leaned in, kissing my cheek, and then vanished down the stairs. The dream faded away, leaving me sitting upright in bed, soaked in sweat, my hand on my chest as my heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest. I hurriedly grabbed my phone and charger, then shook Zeke to wake him.
"Zeke, baby, get up. We're in danger. We need to hide now," I whispered, my voice trembling as my pounding heart echoed in my ears. The cold sweat on my palms made my grip on his arm clammy. At first, he ignored me. When the words sank in, his eyes snapped open, showing a flicker of fear. He nodded and quickly grabbed his phone. Taking my hand, we moved swiftly and silently toward the attic stairs, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on us. Our sock-covered feet made muffled sounds on the carpeted hallway as we hurried. When we reached the stairs and ran to the top, we heard the front door break open with a loud crash, followed by footsteps pounding up the stairs. Zeke swiftly opened the attic door, pushed me inside, and closed it behind us. We hurried into the hidden room, neither of us speaking; silence was our only shield. Once inside, hearts pounding, we sat on the bed, listening intently for the intruders, every sound amplified in the tense silence.
The room was not soundproof, which was supposed to be our project for this weekend; we couldn't move or speak. Sitting still while my mind raced with questions-Will they find us? How long can we stay hidden?-made me feel helpless and exposed. The unknown of how we would survive this ordeal was gripping me tightly, each second stretching endlessly. Then I remembered my phone, and the only thing I could do was text Andy for help, hoping he would get us help before it was too late.
"Dad, someone broke in, please call for help." I hoped that calling him 'dad' would make him understand the severity of our situation. It was the first time I had used that title with him. I watched the message willing him to see it; finally, it showed he had. He didn't text back, so I had to hope he was helping us. When Zeke saw my phone, he took it from me and checked to make sure it was on silent. As soon as he placed it back in my hand, we heard the attic door open, hitting the wall.
Fear grips me tightly like a vice at that simple sound, sending my body into a panic. My lungs feel like they're not getting enough air, making me gasp. Zeke covered my mouth with his hand, trying to keep me quiet so that I wouldn't give away our hiding spot. He looked into my eyes lovingly, trying to reassure me that everything would be fine. I wanted to believe him, but fear was gripping me so fiercely. He raised his index finger over his mouth, signaling for me to stay quiet. I nodded quickly. He gently lowered his hand and wrapped his arm around me for comfort. The footsteps were heavy as the intruders searched the attic. They stopped in front of the hidden door, making us hold our breath in anticipation. At first, the fear they discovered the door took over, but then one of them started to speak.
"We have searched the whole house, but neither one of them is here. What do we do?" the man's voice was gruff and deep.
"We keep looking. If we don't finish this job, we'll be the ones in body bags," the second man said.
"Ok, what is the plan when we find them?"
"We do as planned. We make it look like a break-in and kill them both," he stated matter-of-factly. The other guy grunted in agreement, and we heard them leave the attic. The longer we sat in silence, waiting for help, the more my body shook with fear. It felt like we had been there for hours when, in reality, it was probably only an hour.
"Rocky," Zeke whispered. "We need to try to get out of here. Do you think you can make it to your mom's room? We can go out the window and run for the tree line." He was afraid that the longer we waited for help, the greater the chance we had of being caught. I shook my head yes. On shaky legs, I stood up and followed him to the door.
He slowly opened the hidden door and looked into the attic; it was clear. We slowly made our way down the stairs into the hallway. We listened at the bottom of the steps to make sure we had enough time to reach Mom's room. We could hear them in the living room and kitchen, going through everything. It was the perfect time to make our escape. We already knew what they were searching for: the evidence we had on the family's disappearance. They probably figured if they found it, they would make their boss happy. Since they were on the first floor, we ran as fast as possible to my mom's old room. Opening the window, he helped me crawl out of the room and onto the roof first. He quickly followed after me. Walking to the end of the roof, we lowered ourselves onto the back porch by standing on the railing. Zeke went down first to help me down. After finally getting our feet on the ground, we ran to the tree line for cover, hand in hand.
When we reached the woods, Zeke signaled for me to lie down so we could blend into the natural surroundings. As we lay there watching and waiting, we noticed several blue flashing lights illuminating the sky as they moved down the road. The tension eased, filling us with hope. Though they were still some distance away, they would arrive shortly. The siren blared loudly, nearly deafening in the quiet night, warning the intruders that the police were approaching. I let out a sigh of relief. Andy had come through for us.
As we watched the house, we saw the men run across the side yard and cut across the road. At first, I thought maybe they were headed to Ted's house, but at the angle we were at, there was no clear view. We just watched their figures disappear into the night. Although Zeke was relieved, he was pissed they had gotten away. I understood how he felt. Not catching them was just another invitation for them to come back. Hopefully, the house's cameras captured usable images of the men's faces.
We stayed in the woods until the sheriff cruisers reached the driveway, to be on the safe side. We didn't want to give away our hiding spot, just in case the men were waiting in the shadows somewhere to catch us off guard. As soon as the first one reached the driveway, we ran up to the front of the house with our hands up, so the deputies didn't mistake us for the intruders. They had their guns out, heading into the house, when Deputy Henderson saw us emerge from the side of the house. He signaled to the others, and they cautiously walked toward us. Once he realized who we were, he lowered his gun. He sat us on the front steps and gave us blankets to warm up with. We explained in detail what had happened that night as he jotted notes on his pad.
The other deputies and crime scene technicians searched the house for clues or details about who had invaded our home. Each time this happened, I felt violated, as if someone was stealing my sense of freedom. Zeke retrieved the footage from our cameras for the deputies. The intruders weren't very clever and hadn't checked for hidden cameras; if they had, they would have disabled them. It makes you wonder who was directing them and where he was getting these idiots. Still, I should be grateful that the men he found weren't very thorough, or we might already be dead.
As we sat there talking to Deputy Henderson, we heard a car speeding down the road. It skidded into the driveway, and Andy and Sharon jumped out, running to us. You could see the fear in their eyes. I could only manage what had been running through his head after he received the text. I felt bad for sending it and scaring him, but he was the only one I could trust, and he proved I was right. I think it was time I stopped calling him Andy and used the title he deserved. When he reached us, my instinct was to stand up and wrap my arms around him, sobbing.
"Dad, thank you so much. If you hadn't called for help, we would be dead," I cried.
"What did you just call me?" He questioned with a smile on his face.
"Dad," I sobbed.
"No need to thank me, sweetheart, that's what dads are for. To protect and help our children," he said, hugging me. After we calmed down, Dad and Sharon sat on the porch with us while we waited for the sheriff's office to finish their work. When we thought the night couldn't get any worse, we heard the voice of the last person we wanted to deal with.
"So, Roxanne, what did you do this time?" The voice mocked. I looked toward the voice only to come face to face with Sheriff Dawson, my grandfather. He looked pissed to see us all sitting together on the porch.