I pushed open his door, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure whoever\u2014or whatever\u2014was inside could hear it.<\/p>\n
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his nightlight. My son was sitting up in bed, clutching his blanket, eyes fixed on the corner of the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cMommy\u2026\u201d he whispered, pointing.<\/p>\n
At first, I saw nothing. Just shadows. Just the usual shapes\u2014his toy chest, the chair, the pile of clothes I\u2019d been meaning to fold. I almost laughed in relief.<\/p>\n
Then the chair moved.<\/p>\n
Not a creak. Not a shift. It\u00a0slid<\/em>\u2014just an inch\u2014across the floor.<\/p>\n I froze.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you see him?\u201d my son asked quietly.<\/p>\n A cold wave washed over me. \u201cSee who, baby?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe big man,\u201d he said. \u201cHe comes when you\u2019re sleeping.\u201d<\/p>\n I forced myself to step further into the room, every instinct screaming at me to run. \u201cThere\u2019s no one here,\u201d I said, though my voice trembled.<\/p>\n That\u2019s when I heard it.<\/p>\n A slow, deliberate breath.<\/p>\n Not mine. Not my son\u2019s.<\/p>\n From behind me.<\/p>\n I turned sharply\u2014but there was nothing. Just the open doorway and the dark hallway beyond. Yet the air felt\u2026 crowded. Heavy. Like someone was standing inches away.<\/p>\n My son suddenly ducked under his blanket. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t like when you look at him,\u201d he mumbled.<\/p>\n A chill crept up my spine. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me sooner?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did,\u201d he said. \u201cYou said it wasn\u2019t real.\u201d<\/p>\n The room fell silent.<\/p>\n Then, right beside my ear, so close I felt the warmth of it\u2014<\/p>\n A whisper.<\/p>\n \u201cNow she knows.\u201d<\/p>\n I grabbed my son and ran.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"