When my eyes open, I'm lying on my back, and the ground beneath me feels cold, harsh, and unyielding. I carefully push into a seated position, trying to grasp my surroundings. Why am I in the backyard between my house and the woods? How did I end up here? My mind is foggy and confused; everything appears unclear. The last thing I recall before losing consciousness is being in the driveway with my uncle holding Ted down. Trying to figure out what's going on, I walk toward the back door.
Suddenly, the back door swings open, and two kids—a boy and a girl with backpacks—rush out. Screaming and shouting are heard from deep inside the house. The teenage version of Uncle Donovan quickly follows, stopping them and placing a hand on each shoulder, turning them toward him.
"Don't be scared, okay? Remember what I said. Run to the woods and hide until Mom, Dad, Amber, or I come find you," he says hurriedly, his voice tight. All three of them are frightened, but the two younger ones look terrified, their trembling bodies making me wish I could hug them.
"I'm scared, Donnie," Betty cries, clutching Samuel's hand as she looks up at her older brother.
"I know, Betty, but I need you to be brave and listen to me. Okay?" She nods, still crying quietly.
"Samuel, stay close to Betty. Don't let go of her hand, and don't get separated. Be brave for me, okay? I love you both. Now go," Donovan says urgently, giving them one last gentle push toward the woods. Once they are running in the right direction, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and cautiously enters the house again.
The fog in my mind lifts, and I recognize I am reliving the night my family vanished. A surge of dread and confusion grips me, fueling my instinct to follow, chasing them toward the woods. It feels strange because I can sense everything—the cold, bitter air and the ground beneath my feet—but I'm invisible to everyone.
We dash through the trees into the woods, with Samuel pulling Betty behind him. After a few minutes of running, he finally slows down and searches for a good hiding spot. To our right, there's a large fallen tree, perfect for them to wait beside while the rest of the family catches up. They quickly head toward it, placing their bags on the ground. Betty starts to sit down, but Samuel stops her, signaling her to wait a moment as he reaches for his bag.
Inside his backpack, he takes out a small blanket and spreads it on the ground, motioning for her to sit on it. It is sweet to see how caring he is toward his sister; he doesn't want her sitting on the cold ground. Both kids sit close, trembling and huddling for comfort and warmth. Betty still softly cries, her fear palpable, as she worries about what the night might bring. Their poor little minds are probably having a hard time coping with the madness around them. It makes me want to cry; my heart breaks for them, and I try to reassure them that everything will be fine, but I can't because they can't see me. Plus, I have no idea what actually happened to them until now.
As they wait patiently, scared out of their minds, they hear heavy footsteps approaching. Samuel panics, pulling Betty up with him, leaving the blanket behind and grabbing their backpacks. They take off running again, away from the sound. A masked figure with a menacing gait is hot on their heels. Betty screams at Samuel to run faster, panic evident in her voice. They stumble over fallen branches but never stop, the moonlight casting eerie shadows. I follow behind, wishing I could stop him from reaching the kids. The masked man screams, a chilling sound in the night.
"Stop, you little brats," he taunts, pulling up his ski mask. "You'd better hope I don't catch you." The man is Ted, my creepy neighbor, and he is chasing them. It should shock me that he is involved, but I already know he has something to do with that night. How could he do that to two innocent kids? It scares me more than anything after what he did to me; he is a monster.
The kids stay silent, intensely concentrating on escaping the woods and finding help, never letting go of each other's hands. Finally, they step out into the field behind the town and sprint toward the street, panicked and unaware of an oncoming vehicle. Luckily, the man is not going very fast. The driver hits the brakes but still strikes the kids lightly. Fortunately, the injuries aren't life-threatening, and both remain still on the ground.
Ted observes the scene, hesitates, pulls his mask back down, and then quickly retreats into the woods, clearly trying to avoid detection by the people in the car. He seems to believe they are dead based on their stillness; it doesn't even appear like they are breathing. Ignoring Ted's retreating form, I move toward where the children are lying on the pavement beside a small, compact car. An older man and woman jump out; they look to be in their early to mid-sixties and hurry to the children's sides. The woman is crying, making small sounds of distress over the situation.
"Harold," the woman cries as she drops beside the children. "You hit two babies." Her hands move over them quickly, searching for signs of life.
"I didn't see them." His voice shakes as he looks from the children to his wife. "Are they okay, darling?"
"They're alive," she says, her voice shaking. "We need to get them to the nearest hospital now." Without delay, the older man carefully lifts each child and puts them in the back seat. I wonder why they don't use a cell phone or call an ambulance, but at that time, few people had cell phones. They weren't as relied upon as they are today. They quickly drive away to seek medical help for Samuel and Betty. I watch as the taillights disappear, feeling powerless. All I can do is memorize the license plate number to tell Uncle Donovan if I wake up from this nightmare. I hope this is not a trick of my mind, or is it actually a vision of that fateful night?
I start to walk back toward the woods to see what is happening at the house, but the moment my feet cross into the trees, I am suddenly transported into a hospital emergency room. The chaos is overwhelming—doctors and nurses rush frantically everywhere, their hurried footsteps echoing on cold tiled floors. The sharp stench of disinfectants, blood, and bodily fluids assaults my senses, triggering memories of my mom's illness. I scan the room, desperately searching for Samuel and Betty or the elderly couple, but they are nowhere in sight. Suddenly, a car screeches to a stop right outside the ER. It's the older couple and the kids. The woman rushes inside, screaming for help, while her husband quickly opens the back door and lifts Betty into his arms.
A doctor notices the woman standing there and has a nurse get a gurney. She explains that two injured children were hit by a car. The doctor calmly yells for more help and another gurney while following the woman outside. He takes Betty from the older man and places her on the gurney while instructing the others to get Samuel. They all run into the treatment area, keeping the kids in the same room. A nurse escorts the older couple to the waiting room while the doctor checks the kids. Many tests are ordered—MRI, blood work, X-rays, CT scans, and EKGs—because the doctor is concerned that Samuel's head wound and Betty's broken arm may mean their injuries are more severe than they appear.
Finally, after what feels like hours, the doctor talks to the older couple, thinking they are the children's family. All the tests come back okay, except that Betty has broken her left ulna and needs a cast, and they both have concussions. Other than that, they are two very lucky children. The older couple introduce themselves to the doctor as Harold and Cathy Faltmen and explain the situation.
The hospital has already informed the police of the accident and asked the Faltmens to stay there until they arrive. The doctor hopes to get more information out of Betty and Samuel when they wake up. The older couple agree to wait and ask if they can sit with the kids to comfort them if they wake up. The doctor decides that he doesn't feel they are there to harm them, but he still keeps a close eye on them, as do the nurses.
The police come and talk to the couple, taking down their information and a detailed description of what happened at the scene. Child services are also alerted to the situation because they have no idea who the kids are. They want to find their family and investigate what happened. As they listen to the officers, Cathy remembers the backpacks.
"Excuse me, officer, they had backpacks on them. They are still in our car. Harold can run out and grab them for you," she states.
"Thank you, ma'am," the officer replies. "That would be greatly appreciated."
After looking through the bags, the officers discover the information with their names and birth dates. Although they find nothing indicating who their parents are, they feel that having their names is a good start. The officers have no idea that the names are fake. Shortly after they leave, a child protective service agent arrives, taking down the information of the children left behind. They are actively seeking a placement for them upon their release from the hospital. Cathy looks at Harold, giving him a knowing look, and he nods back.
"Miss, Harold and I are registered foster parents," Cathy says. "If it's allowed, could we take them in until their family is found?"
"I'm not sure," the CPS worker replies gently. "I'll need to discuss it with my supervisor first." At that moment, Betty stirs awake, looking around frantically.
"Samuel?" she cries, trying to sit up. "Where's my brother?" Samuel must hear her frantic voice because he reaches for her.
"I'm here, sissy," he says. The CPS worker introduces herself and asks them for their last names. Confusion crosses both their faces as they look at each other.
"I-I-I don't remember," Samuel whispers, then looks over at Betty.
"I don't either," she says softly. When she lifts her head, she sees the Faltmens sitting nearby. "Are you our grandparents?" she asks, her voice small.
"No, sweetie," Cathy says gently. "But we wish we were." As soon as the words are spoken, the scene around me dissolves into blackness, letting me know the vision is done.
A consistent beep echoes as the scent of disinfectants and antiseptics hits my nose again. My eyes begin to flutter open, revealing Zeke sleeping in the chair beside me, holding my hand. Andy and Sharon are asleep on the small couch, and Uncle Donovan sits across in another chair. I am back in the present, and relief washes over me—I have survived. Every time I try to call out, my throat feels like it's on fire. Zeke hears my strained noise, quickly calls the doctor, and leans over to kiss my forehead.
"Welcome back, sleepyhead," he says, stroking my hair. "I was so worried. I'm sorry you got hurt." I smile at him, trying to show I'm okay. My voice squeaks because it's so bruised from Ted's hands. Before I can ask what happened to the jerk, the doctor rushes in.
"Well, hello, Miss Sleighton. You're lucky. If your attacker had squeezed any harder, he might have broken your larynx. Fortunately, your uncle arrived just in time." The doctor quickly examines me and says I'll recover, but I should avoid talking for a few weeks to let my throat heal. I signal for my phone and type, "What happened to Ted?"