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 towards the back door.
Suddenly, the back door swings open, and two kids— a boy and a girl with bookbags — 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, heightening the tension of this pivotal moment.
"Don't be scared, guys, and remember what I said. Run to the woods and hide until either our parents, me, or Amber come find you," he says hurriedly, his voice tense. All three are frightened, especially the two younger ones, their trembling bodies emphasizing the danger they face.
"I'm scared, Donnie," the little girl cries, clutching her twin's hand tightly, her voice trembling with fear as she looks at her older brother.
"I know, Betty, but I need you to be brave and listen to me. Okay?" She nodded, still crying quietly.
"Samuel, stay close to Betty. Don't get separated. Be brave and strong for me. I love you both. Now go quickly," Donovan says urgently, gently pushing them toward the woods. After he sees them running in the right direction, he takes a deep breath to steady his nerves 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 felt strange because I could sense everything—the cold, bitter air and the ground beneath my feet—but I was 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 was sweet to see how caring he was towards his sister; he didn'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 were probably having a hard time coping with the madness around them. It made me want to cry, my heart broke for them, and I tried to reassure them that everything would be fine, but I couldn't because they couldn't see me. Plus, I had 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 brats. You'd better hope I don't catch up to you," he taunted, pulling up his ski mask. The man was Ted, my creepy neighbor, and he was chasing them. It should have shocked me that he was involved, but I already knew he had something to do with that night. How could he do that to two innocent kids? It scared me more than anything after what he had done to me; he was a monster.
The kids stayed silent, intensely concentrating on escaping the woods and finding help, never letting go of each other's hands. Finally, they stepped out into the field behind the town and sprinted toward the street, panicked and unaware of an oncoming vehicle. Luckily, the man was not going really fast. The driver hit the brakes but still struck the kids lightly. Fortunately, the injuries weren't life-threatening, and both remained still on the ground.
Ted observed the scene, hesitated, pulled his mask back down, and then quickly retreated into the woods, clearly trying to avoid detection by the people in the car. He seemed to believe they were dead based on their stillness; it didn't even appear like they were breathing. Ignoring Ted's retreating form, I moved toward where the children were lying on the pavement beside a small, compact car. An older man and woman jumped out; they looked to be in their early to mid-sixties and hurried to the children's sides. The woman was crying, making small sounds of distress over the situation.
"Honey, you hit two babies," the woman shouted as she hurriedly checked them for signs of life.
"I didn't see them," he said, looking distraught and shaken. "Are they okay, darling?" he asked his wife cautiously, with concern evident on both their faces.
"Yes, both are still alive. We need to get them to the nearest hospital," she said. Without delay, the older man carefully lifted each child and put them in the back seat. I wondered why they didn'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 today. They quickly drove away to seek medical help for Samuel and Betty. I watched as the taillights disappeared, feeling powerless. All I could do was memorize the license plate number to tell Uncle Donovan if I woke up from this nightmare. I hoped this was not a trick of my mind, or was it actually a vision of that fateful night?
I started to walk back toward the woods to see what was happening at the house, but the moment my feet crossed into the trees, I was suddenly transported into a hospital emergency room. The chaos was overwhelming—doctors and nurses rushing frantically everywhere, their hurried footsteps echoing on cold tiled floors. The sharp stench of disinfectants, blood, and bodily fluids assaulted my senses, triggering memories of my mom's illness. I scanned the room desperately searching for Samuel and Betty or the elderly couple, but they were 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 there are two injured children, 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 escorted the older couple to the waiting room while the doctor checked the kids. Many tests were ordered – MRI, blood work, X-rays, CT scans, and EKGs – he was concerned since Samuel was bleeding from the head and Betty's arm felt broken that their injuries were more severe than they appeared.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the doctor talked to the older couple, thinking they were their family. All the tests came back ok except that Betty broke her left ulna and needed a cast, and they both suffered from a concussion. Other than that, they were two very lucky children. The older couple introduced themselves to the doctor as Harold and Cathy Faltmen and explained the situation.
The hospital had already informed the cops of the accident and asked the Faltmen's to stay there until they arrived. The doctor hoped to get more information out of Betty and Samuel when they woke up. The older couple agreed to wait and asked if they could sit with the kids to comfort them if they woke up. The doctor decided that he didn't feel they were there to harm them, but he still kept a close eye on them, as did the nurses.
The police came and talked to the couple, taking down their information and a detailed description of what happened at the scene. Child services were also alerted to the situation because they had no idea who the kids were. They wanted to find their family and investigate what happened. As they listened to the officers, Cathy remembered the book bags.
"Excuse me, officer, they had backpacks on them. They are still in our car. Harold can run out and grab them for you," she stated.
"Thank you, ma'am," the officer replied. "That would be greatly appreciated."
After looking through the bags, the officers discovered the information with their names and birth dates. Although they found nothing indicating who their parents were, they felt that having their names was a good start. The officers had no idea that the names were fake. Shortly after they left, a child protective service agent arrived, taking down the information of the children left behind. They were actively seeking a placement for them upon their release from the hospital. Cathy looked at Harold, giving him a knowing look, and he nodded back.
"Miss, we are registered foster parents. Could we take them in until their family is found?" Cathy asked.
"I'm not sure, I would need to discuss it with my supervisor," the CPS worker replied. At that moment, Betty stirred awake, looking around frantically.
"Samuel, where's my brother?" she cried while trying to sit up. Samuel must have heard her frantic cry because he reached for her.
"I'm here, sissy," he said. The CPS worker introduced herself and asked them for their last names. Confusion crossed over both their faces as they looked at each other.
"I-i-i-I don't remember," Samuel said and looked over to Betty.
"I don't either," she said softly. As she lifted her head, she saw the Faltmen sitting there. "Are you our grandparents?" she asked shyly.
"No, sweetie," Cathy answered. "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, sleepy head. I was really worried. Sorry you got hurt," he says as he strokes my hair. 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 examined me and said I'd recover but should avoid talking for a few weeks to let my throat heal. I signaled for my phone and typed, "What happened to Ted?"