With the phone held to my ear, I step carefully and slowly through the living room, scared I’ll make a noise. My grip on my phone turns my knuckles white.
The operator answers quickly. “911. What’s your emergency?”
Tremors rack my voice as I whisper my reply, “I just got home from work, and I think there’s someone in my house.”
Creeeak. Creeeak.
“What’s your address?” Her tone is calm, a contrast to my own. I have to repeat my address twice because of the whimpers that I’m unable to hold back.
“Do you or anyone else need medical attention?”
“Yes, I think my babysitter, Lucy, was drugged. She won’t wake up.” I try to keep my rasping breaths mute but fail.
As I head up the stairs, the operator directs me. “Ma’am, I want you to go into a room and lock the door. Cops are on the way.”
Creeeak. Creeeak.
With each ascending step, my stomach sinks lower and lower.
“I can’t. My son, Noah, is upstairs.” I keep my volume low.
“Police will be there soon,” she assures me. “I need you to get somewhere safe.”
“Not without Noah,” I insist.
I reach the top of the stairs, and all the blood drains from my face as I realize the noise is coming from Noah’s room.
“Where are you now?” she asks.
“I’m upstairs. I think the person is in his room.”
“Don’t go in there.”
“I have to.”
My head spins as I turn the doorknob and open the door. It’s like an out-of-body experience. I can’t hear anything else the operator says. Words muffle through the speaker, but they don’t register. Tears leak out of my eyes as I finally come to know the true meaning of fear.
My phone slips from my grasp, landing on the floor.
Noah’s room is swathed in darkness, but small streams of light from the streetlamp outside illuminate bits and pieces. Abreeze from the open window causes the light blue curtains to dance. A woman in a hospital gown sways back and forth in a rocking chair with a lump in her lap as she hums a familiar tune. As she rocks, the resounding creak reverberates from the wood of the chair. The poor lighting reveals the profile of her face, and I realize I know her.
“Alice? Alice, what’s going on?”
I scan for Noah but find his bed empty. His covers are pulled back, and another empty syringe lies on his pillow.
No…
Alice begins to put words to her melody, and the chills covering my body become painful.
“Rock a bye baby, in the sweet bed,
When the man comes, the child will dread.
When the man leaves, the child will cry,
And down will come Noah, down from the sky.”
Please no…
