u/Significant_Bag_4822

Part 1 - 3

My knees felt weak. “Did you kill him?” I said, my voice faltering.
 
“I can’t tell you, it’s a secret,” it giggled in response.
 
Out of nowhere, its little body began to twitch, fast. It jerked its head around so hard, I half-expected it to tear right off and fall on the floor. I watched in horror as needle-like teeth began to poke through its soft, pink gums.
 
Its bones started to crack and bend, creating unimaginable angles and shapes. Pieces stuck through the skin everywhere, creating a puddle of drool and blood.
 
They would take on a new form before breaking again, the sound making me feel sick to my stomach. It was almost touching the ceiling.
 
Its ten little fingers and toes grew longer and longer, turning into razor sharp claws.
 
The skin of its previous form was too small to withstand its transformation. I heard the flesh pop and rip, revealing organs that squirmed like maggots. It began to patch itself back together with skin that came in all different shapes and colors.
 
“Is that the skin of all the people he imitated before Damien?” I shuddered at the thought.
 
I beheld the atrocity standing in the doorway, coming to the realization I was very unprepared to attack what was in front of me. At most, I would be lucky to survive.
 
Before I had time to think, it swung at me, throwing me into the wall. I dropped the knife as I cried out. The impact sent pain ricocheting throughout my body and evicted the air from my lungs.
 
Fumbling around, I tried to grab the knife as it charged at me again. I had just managed to wrap my fingers around the handle when it pinned me down. I could feel a claw sinking deeper and deeper into my shoulder.
 
It held up my arm and sliced it with surgical precision, slitting my wrist. I managed to reach up and stab its abdomen, a trickle of black liquid pouring out. It didn’t seem to faze it though. I tried again and again, but the warm fluid made it difficult to keep a grip on the knife.
 
It grabbed a fist full of my hair and drug me into the kitchen.
 
“Let me go!” I screamed “I can forget this ever happened and you can keep playing pretend,” tears filled my eyes.
 
It said nothing, as it began to examine our utensils.
 
Instead of choosing a sharp steak knife, it picked up a spoon. It admired its choice before lifting me up to meet its gaze.
 
I screamed and thrashed as it slowly moved the edge of the spoon to my eye. My mind was racing.
 
“Is this how I die? Is this the end?”
 
I held my eyes shut as tightly as possible, knowing it wouldn’t stop the inevitable. I prayed that Sam would find Damien after I died. If he was truly gone though, at least we were about to be reunited.
 
A car door slammed shut. I dropped to the ground.
 
“SAM, HELP ME!” I screamed, hoping he would hear me.
 
He threw open the door, taking in the scene. Color drained from his face. The living room and kitchen had splintered wood and broken picture frames littering the floor. Blood was spilled everywhere, most of it my own. He ran over to me and grabbed a dish towel, trying to put pressure on my wound.
 
“Liz, what happened? Where’s Damien?”
 
He got up with a sense of urgency and started to search the kitchen.
 
“Thank God you’re home,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
 
“I was right…that thing…. replaced Damien. We have to find him.”
 
“What thing? Liz, where is our son?” Sam said. He was rummaging through cabinets and the trash can, only adding to the chaotic scene.
 
“I don’t know Sam, we have to find him.” I reached out my hand and waited for help.
 
It never came.
 
Ignoring me, he moved room to room, turning the whole house upside down.
 
“Sam what are you doing? Damien’s not here, we have to-”
 
He stopped in his tracks and finally acknowledged me.
 
“Elizabeth. What have you done with him? WHERE IS OUR SON?”
 
I was taken aback. Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t he believe me?
 
“Tell me where he is, or I’m calling the cops.” He said with a mixture of heartbreak and hatred.
 
“Sam, I told you, I don’t know. I PROMISE I would never hurt our baby. I mean look at this place, look at ME. Do you really think I did this myself?” I cried out, begging to be believed.
 
He stared at me and tears began to fill his eyes.
 
“I don’t know Elizabeth, but what I DO know is that Damien is missing, and all that blood out there? There’s no way it’s just yours.”
 
He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
 
“Please… no…”
 
I was at a loss for words. In a matter of days, my whole life had fallen apart.
 
Our miracle baby was gone, or worse. My husband believed I killed him, and I was about to be arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.
 
Red and blue flashed through our windows.
 
“Please find our baby, Sam, please don’t stop until you find him.” I pleaded as they put me in the back of the car.
 
He said nothing, turning away from me.
 
In the following weeks, I was interviewed by numerous detectives and psychiatrists.
 
Eventually, it was determined that I had experienced an extreme case of postpartum psychosis. I was found not guilty by plea of insanity, and as a result, they committed me to the State’s psychiatric hospital.
 
Sam visited me the day I got admitted.
 
“Have they found Damien?” I asked as soon as he was seated.
 
“Uh… no, not yet. They’re still looking. That’s actually why I’m here.” He said, refusing to meet my gaze.
 
“Do you have any idea where you might’ve hidden him? I just want to put Damien to rest… please.”
 
“Sam, I told you. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know where he is.” I sighed.
 
“Okay. If that’s all you have to say.” He nodded to the supervisor, indicating he was ready to leave.
 
Before he walked out of the door, he turned back to me. I could see the tears in his eyes.
 
“Goodbye Elizabeth.”
 
I never saw him again.
 
I’m not quite sure how long I’ve been in here. They have me on a heavy medication regime so it’s hard to keep track of time. It doesn’t stop the nightmares from coming though.
 
I know what happened was real. I know what I lived through. I know Damien is out there somewhere. Growing up without his parents. All I can hope is that he’s had a good life.
 
Most importantly, I know that creature is still out there somewhere.
 
Impersonating someone new.
 
I just pray they put things together before it’s too late.

Part 1 - 3

My knees felt weak. “Did you kill him?” I said, my voice faltering.
 
“I can’t tell you, it’s a secret,” it giggled in response.
 
Out of nowhere, its little body began to twitch, fast. It jerked its head around so hard, I half-expected it to tear right off and fall on the floor. I watched in horror as needle-like teeth began to poke through its soft, pink gums.
 
Its bones started to crack and bend, creating unimaginable angles and shapes. Pieces stuck through the skin everywhere, creating a puddle of drool and blood.
 
They would take on a new form before breaking again, the sound making me feel sick to my stomach. It was almost touching the ceiling.
 
Its ten little fingers and toes grew longer and longer, turning into razor sharp claws.
 
The skin of its previous form was too small to withstand its transformation. I heard the flesh pop and rip, revealing organs that squirmed like maggots. It began to patch itself back together with skin that came in all different shapes and colors.
 
“Is that the skin of all the people he imitated before Damien?” I shuddered at the thought.
 
I beheld the atrocity standing in the doorway, coming to the realization I was very unprepared to attack what was in front of me. At most, I would be lucky to survive.
 
Before I had time to think, it swung at me, throwing me into the wall. I dropped the knife as I cried out. The impact sent pain ricocheting throughout my body and evicted the air from my lungs.
 
Fumbling around, I tried to grab the knife as it charged at me again. I had just managed to wrap my fingers around the handle when it pinned me down. I could feel a claw sinking deeper and deeper into my shoulder.
 
It held up my arm and sliced it with surgical precision, slitting my wrist. I managed to reach up and stab its abdomen, a trickle of black liquid pouring out. It didn’t seem to faze it though. I tried again and again, but the warm fluid made it difficult to keep a grip on the knife.
 
It grabbed a fist full of my hair and drug me into the kitchen.
 
“Let me go!” I screamed “I can forget this ever happened and you can keep playing pretend,” tears filled my eyes.
 
It said nothing, as it began to examine our utensils.
 
Instead of choosing a sharp steak knife, it picked up a spoon. It admired its choice before lifting me up to meet its gaze.
 
I screamed and thrashed as it slowly moved the edge of the spoon to my eye. My mind was racing.
 
“Is this how I die? Is this the end?”
 
I held my eyes shut as tightly as possible, knowing it wouldn’t stop the inevitable. I prayed that Sam would find Damien after I died. If he was truly gone though, at least we were about to be reunited.
 
A car door slammed shut. I dropped to the ground.
 
“SAM, HELP ME!” I screamed, hoping he would hear me.
 
He threw open the door, taking in the scene. Color drained from his face. The living room and kitchen had splintered wood and broken picture frames littering the floor. Blood was spilled everywhere, most of it my own. He ran over to me and grabbed a dish towel, trying to put pressure on my wound.
 
“Liz, what happened? Where’s Damien?”
 
He got up with a sense of urgency and started to search the kitchen.
 
“Thank God you’re home,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
 
“I was right…that thing…. replaced Damien. We have to find him.”
 
“What thing? Liz, where is our son?” Sam said. He was rummaging through cabinets and the trash can, only adding to the chaotic scene.
 
“I don’t know Sam, we have to find him.” I reached out my hand and waited for help.
 
It never came.
 
Ignoring me, he moved room to room, turning the whole house upside down.
 
“Sam what are you doing? Damien’s not here, we have to-”
 
He stopped in his tracks and finally acknowledged me.
 
“Elizabeth. What have you done with him? WHERE IS OUR SON?”
 
I was taken aback. Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t he believe me?
 
“Tell me where he is, or I’m calling the cops.” He said with a mixture of heartbreak and hatred.
 
“Sam, I told you, I don’t know. I PROMISE I would never hurt our baby. I mean look at this place, look at ME. Do you really think I did this myself?” I cried out, begging to be believed.
 
He stared at me and tears began to fill his eyes.
 
“I don’t know Elizabeth, but what I DO know is that Damien is missing, and all that blood out there? There’s no way it’s just yours.”
 
He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
 
“Please… no…”
 
I was at a loss for words. In a matter of days, my whole life had fallen apart.
 
Our miracle baby was gone, or worse. My husband believed I killed him, and I was about to be arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.
 
Red and blue flashed through our windows.
 
“Please find our baby, Sam, please don’t stop until you find him.” I pleaded as they put me in the back of the car.
 
He said nothing, turning away from me.
 
In the following weeks, I was interviewed by numerous detectives and psychiatrists.
 
Eventually, it was determined that I had experienced an extreme case of postpartum psychosis. I was found not guilty by plea of insanity, and as a result, they committed me to the State’s psychiatric hospital.
 
Sam visited me the day I got admitted.
 
“Have they found Damien?” I asked as soon as he was seated.
 
“Uh… no, not yet. They’re still looking. That’s actually why I’m here.” He said, refusing to meet my gaze.
 
“Do you have any idea where you might’ve hidden him? I just want to put Damien to rest… please.”
 
“Sam, I told you. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know where he is.” I sighed.
 
“Okay. If that’s all you have to say.” He nodded to the supervisor, indicating he was ready to leave.
 
Before he walked out of the door, he turned back to me. I could see the tears in his eyes.
 
“Goodbye Elizabeth.”
 
I never saw him again.
 
I’m not quite sure how long I’ve been in here. They have me on a heavy medication regime so it’s hard to keep track of time. It doesn’t stop the nightmares from coming though.
 
I know what happened was real. I know what I lived through. I know Damien is out there somewhere. Growing up without his parents. All I can hope is that he’s had a good life.
 
Most importantly, I know that creature is still out there somewhere.
 
Impersonating someone new.
 
I just pray they put things together before it’s too late.

Part 1 - 3

My knees felt weak. “Did you kill him?” I said, my voice faltering.
 
“I can’t tell you, it’s a secret,” it giggled in response.
 
Out of nowhere, its little body began to twitch, fast. It jerked its head around so hard, I half-expected it to tear right off and fall on the floor. I watched in horror as needle-like teeth began to poke through its soft, pink gums.
 
Its bones started to crack and bend, creating unimaginable angles and shapes. Pieces stuck through the skin everywhere, creating a puddle of drool and blood.
 
They would take on a new form before breaking again, the sound making me feel sick to my stomach. It was almost touching the ceiling.
 
Its ten little fingers and toes grew longer and longer, turning into razor sharp claws.
 
The skin of its previous form was too small to withstand its transformation. I heard the flesh pop and rip, revealing organs that squirmed like maggots. It began to patch itself back together with skin that came in all different shapes and colors.
 
“Is that the skin of all the people he imitated before Damien?” I shuddered at the thought.
 
I beheld the atrocity standing in the doorway, coming to the realization I was very unprepared to attack what was in front of me. At most, I would be lucky to survive.
 
Before I had time to think, it swung at me, throwing me into the wall. I dropped the knife as I cried out. The impact sent pain ricocheting throughout my body and evicted the air from my lungs.
 
Fumbling around, I tried to grab the knife as it charged at me again. I had just managed to wrap my fingers around the handle when it pinned me down. I could feel a claw sinking deeper and deeper into my shoulder.
 
It held up my arm and sliced it with surgical precision, slitting my wrist. I managed to reach up and stab its abdomen, a trickle of black liquid pouring out. It didn’t seem to faze it though. I tried again and again, but the warm fluid made it difficult to keep a grip on the knife.
 
It grabbed a fist full of my hair and drug me into the kitchen.
 
“Let me go!” I screamed “I can forget this ever happened and you can keep playing pretend,” tears filled my eyes.
 
It said nothing, as it began to examine our utensils.
 
Instead of choosing a sharp steak knife, it picked up a spoon. It admired its choice before lifting me up to meet its gaze.
 
I screamed and thrashed as it slowly moved the edge of the spoon to my eye. My mind was racing.
 
“Is this how I die? Is this the end?”
 
I held my eyes shut as tightly as possible, knowing it wouldn’t stop the inevitable. I prayed that Sam would find Damien after I died. If he was truly gone though, at least we were about to be reunited.
 
A car door slammed shut. I dropped to the ground.
 
“SAM, HELP ME!” I screamed, hoping he would hear me.
 
He threw open the door, taking in the scene. Color drained from his face. The living room and kitchen had splintered wood and broken picture frames littering the floor. Blood was spilled everywhere, most of it my own. He ran over to me and grabbed a dish towel, trying to put pressure on my wound.
 
“Liz, what happened? Where’s Damien?”
 
He got up with a sense of urgency and started to search the kitchen.
 
“Thank God you’re home,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
 
“I was right…that thing…. replaced Damien. We have to find him.”
 
“What thing? Liz, where is our son?” Sam said. He was rummaging through cabinets and the trash can, only adding to the chaotic scene.
 
“I don’t know Sam, we have to find him.” I reached out my hand and waited for help.
 
It never came.
 
Ignoring me, he moved room to room, turning the whole house upside down.
 
“Sam what are you doing? Damien’s not here, we have to-”
 
He stopped in his tracks and finally acknowledged me.
 
“Elizabeth. What have you done with him? WHERE IS OUR SON?”
 
I was taken aback. Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t he believe me?
 
“Tell me where he is, or I’m calling the cops.” He said with a mixture of heartbreak and hatred.
 
“Sam, I told you, I don’t know. I PROMISE I would never hurt our baby. I mean look at this place, look at ME. Do you really think I did this myself?” I cried out, begging to be believed.
 
He stared at me and tears began to fill his eyes.
 
“I don’t know Elizabeth, but what I DO know is that Damien is missing, and all that blood out there? There’s no way it’s just yours.”
 
He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
 
“Please… no…”
 
I was at a loss for words. In a matter of days, my whole life had fallen apart.
 
Our miracle baby was gone, or worse. My husband believed I killed him, and I was about to be arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.
 
Red and blue flashed through our windows.
 
“Please find our baby, Sam, please don’t stop until you find him.” I pleaded as they put me in the back of the car.
 
He said nothing, turning away from me.
 
In the following weeks, I was interviewed by numerous detectives and psychiatrists.
 
Eventually, it was determined that I had experienced an extreme case of postpartum psychosis. I was found not guilty by plea of insanity, and as a result, they committed me to the State’s psychiatric hospital.
 
Sam visited me the day I got admitted.
 
“Have they found Damien?” I asked as soon as he was seated.
 
“Uh… no, not yet. They’re still looking. That’s actually why I’m here.” He said, refusing to meet my gaze.
 
“Do you have any idea where you might’ve hidden him? I just want to put Damien to rest… please.”
 
“Sam, I told you. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know where he is.” I sighed.
 
“Okay. If that’s all you have to say.” He nodded to the supervisor, indicating he was ready to leave.
 
Before he walked out of the door, he turned back to me. I could see the tears in his eyes.
 
“Goodbye Elizabeth.”
 
I never saw him again.
 
I’m not quite sure how long I’ve been in here. They have me on a heavy medication regime so it’s hard to keep track of time. It doesn’t stop the nightmares from coming though.
 
I know what happened was real. I know what I lived through. I know Damien is out there somewhere. Growing up without his parents. All I can hope is that he’s had a good life.
 
Most importantly, I know that creature is still out there somewhere.
 
Impersonating someone new.
 
I just pray they put things together before it’s too late.

Part 1 - 3

My knees felt weak. “Did you kill him?” I said, my voice faltering.
 
“I can’t tell you, it’s a secret,” it giggled in response.
 
Out of nowhere, its little body began to twitch, fast. It jerked its head around so hard, I half-expected it to tear right off and fall on the floor. I watched in horror as needle-like teeth began to poke through its soft, pink gums.
 
Its bones started to crack and bend, creating unimaginable angles and shapes. Pieces stuck through the skin everywhere, creating a puddle of drool and blood.
 
They would take on a new form before breaking again, the sound making me feel sick to my stomach. It was almost touching the ceiling.
 
Its ten little fingers and toes grew longer and longer, turning into razor sharp claws.
 
The skin of its previous form was too small to withstand its transformation. I heard the flesh pop and rip, revealing organs that squirmed like maggots. It began to patch itself back together with skin that came in all different shapes and colors.
 
“Is that the skin of all the people he imitated before Damien?” I shuddered at the thought.
 
I beheld the atrocity standing in the doorway, coming to the realization I was very unprepared to attack what was in front of me. At most, I would be lucky to survive.
 
Before I had time to think, it swung at me, throwing me into the wall. I dropped the knife as I cried out. The impact sent pain ricocheting throughout my body and evicted the air from my lungs.
 
Fumbling around, I tried to grab the knife as it charged at me again. I had just managed to wrap my fingers around the handle when it pinned me down. I could feel a claw sinking deeper and deeper into my shoulder.
 
It held up my arm and sliced it with surgical precision, slitting my wrist. I managed to reach up and stab its abdomen, a trickle of black liquid pouring out. It didn’t seem to faze it though. I tried again and again, but the warm fluid made it difficult to keep a grip on the knife.
 
It grabbed a fist full of my hair and drug me into the kitchen.
 
“Let me go!” I screamed “I can forget this ever happened and you can keep playing pretend,” tears filled my eyes.
 
It said nothing, as it began to examine our utensils.
 
Instead of choosing a sharp steak knife, it picked up a spoon. It admired its choice before lifting me up to meet its gaze.
 
I screamed and thrashed as it slowly moved the edge of the spoon to my eye. My mind was racing.
 
“Is this how I die? Is this the end?”
 
I held my eyes shut as tightly as possible, knowing it wouldn’t stop the inevitable. I prayed that Sam would find Damien after I died. If he was truly gone though, at least we were about to be reunited.
 
A car door slammed shut. I dropped to the ground.
 
“SAM, HELP ME!” I screamed, hoping he would hear me.
 
He threw open the door, taking in the scene. Color drained from his face. The living room and kitchen had splintered wood and broken picture frames littering the floor. Blood was spilled everywhere, most of it my own. He ran over to me and grabbed a dish towel, trying to put pressure on my wound.
 
“Liz, what happened? Where’s Damien?”
 
He got up with a sense of urgency and started to search the kitchen.
 
“Thank God you’re home,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
 
“I was right…that thing…. replaced Damien. We have to find him.”
 
“What thing? Liz, where is our son?” Sam said. He was rummaging through cabinets and the trash can, only adding to the chaotic scene.
 
“I don’t know Sam, we have to find him.” I reached out my hand and waited for help.
 
It never came.
 
Ignoring me, he moved room to room, turning the whole house upside down.
 
“Sam what are you doing? Damien’s not here, we have to-”
 
He stopped in his tracks and finally acknowledged me.
 
“Elizabeth. What have you done with him? WHERE IS OUR SON?”
 
I was taken aback. Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t he believe me?
 
“Tell me where he is, or I’m calling the cops.” He said with a mixture of heartbreak and hatred.
 
“Sam, I told you, I don’t know. I PROMISE I would never hurt our baby. I mean look at this place, look at ME. Do you really think I did this myself?” I cried out, begging to be believed.
 
He stared at me and tears began to fill his eyes.
 
“I don’t know Elizabeth, but what I DO know is that Damien is missing, and all that blood out there? There’s no way it’s just yours.”
 
He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
 
“Please… no…”
 
I was at a loss for words. In a matter of days, my whole life had fallen apart.
 
Our miracle baby was gone, or worse. My husband believed I killed him, and I was about to be arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.
 
Red and blue flashed through our windows.
 
“Please find our baby, Sam, please don’t stop until you find him.” I pleaded as they put me in the back of the car.
 
He said nothing, turning away from me.
 
In the following weeks, I was interviewed by numerous detectives and psychiatrists.
 
Eventually, it was determined that I had experienced an extreme case of postpartum psychosis. I was found not guilty by plea of insanity, and as a result, they committed me to the State’s psychiatric hospital.
 
Sam visited me the day I got admitted.
 
“Have they found Damien?” I asked as soon as he was seated.
 
“Uh… no, not yet. They’re still looking. That’s actually why I’m here.” He said, refusing to meet my gaze.
 
“Do you have any idea where you might’ve hidden him? I just want to put Damien to rest… please.”
 
“Sam, I told you. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know where he is.” I sighed.
 
“Okay. If that’s all you have to say.” He nodded to the supervisor, indicating he was ready to leave.
 
Before he walked out of the door, he turned back to me. I could see the tears in his eyes.
 
“Goodbye Elizabeth.”
 
I never saw him again.
 
I’m not quite sure how long I’ve been in here. They have me on a heavy medication regime so it’s hard to keep track of time. It doesn’t stop the nightmares from coming though.
 
I know what happened was real. I know what I lived through. I know Damien is out there somewhere. Growing up without his parents. All I can hope is that he’s had a good life.
 
Most importantly, I know that creature is still out there somewhere.
 
Impersonating someone new.
 
I just pray they put things together before it’s too late.

Part 1 & 2

My stomach turned. I felt like I was going to be sick. 
 
“No. No this can’t be, Damien always had blue eyes.” 
 
I cautiously walked away from the crib. I didn’t want to agitate whatever creature had replaced my baby. 
 
“I don’t know what you did with my son, but I will find him. I know the truth now.” I whispered. I needed to get out of there.
 
Slowly, his head turned. Those two, soulless hazel eyes were now locked onto me. Its face cold and expressionless as it watched me sneak out of the room. 
 
I sprinted to the living room, trying to be as far away from the nursery as possible. 
 
“Pick up Sam, pick up!” I said desperately. 
 
Straight to voicemail. I tried again. 
 
“Please leave your message-” I redialed.
 
After the 4th try, Sam finally picked up. 
 
“Liz, is everything okay? You don’t normally call me when I’m at work.” 
 
“No Sam, nothing is okay. I need you to come home right now. Whatever this thing is in our house, it’s not Damien. I have proof.” I said in a harsh whisper, praying it didn’t hear me. 
 
“I can’t come home just yet, I’m sure everything is fine Liz, just keep an eye on Damien until I get back.” He replied with worry in his voice.
 
“That THING is not Damien. What don’t you understand? Why don’t you believe me?” 
 
He sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you babe, but do you hear yourself? What you’re saying really seems like a stretch.” 
 
“You think I don’t know how all this sounds Sam? Do you think I’m making this up just for fun?” I said, choking on my emotions.
 
“Its eyes… they’re different, Sam. They’re hazel. Damien’s eyes were blue.” 
 
He was quiet on the other line for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts.
 
“Liz, I think we need to talk to someone. Maybe a counselor or a therapist or something? You’re really starting to worry me.” 
 
“What about his eyes?” 
 
“Babe, don’t you remember from the books? All babies start out with blue eyes. He’s just starting to develop his true eye color. Look, I will tell my boss that I need to get off early and see what I can do. Just PLEASE don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or Damien. Promise me.” 
 
I had never heard this tone from Sam before. He sounded nervous. Not afraid of what I said being the truth, but rather, afraid of me. 
 
Afraid I would hurt our baby boy. 
 
“I promise Sam. You know I would never hurt Damien. Just please come home quickly.” 
 
“I’ll try.”  
 
After hanging up the phone, I plopped down on the couch, staring off in the distance. No one believed me. I was all alone.
 
I held my head in my hands. I just wanted all of this to go away. Why me? Why did the universe decide to give us an angel, just to replace him with this creature, this demon. All I wanted was to have Damien back. 
 
“Get it together. You have to figure this out. You have to find your son.” 
 
I got up off the couch and started pacing around the living room. I had to think. 
 
Whatever this thing is, it chose to replace my son. That meant it was probably safe to assume it was hiding its real identity. I just needed to find a way to show Sam. 
 
 I knew what I had to do. I had to cause hurt it. It’s hard to keep up an act when you’re bleeding out. 
 
I thought back to my call with Sam. I thought back to his plea and my promise.
 
I meant what I said. I would never, ever hurt Damien. But that thing mocking me, wearing my son’s face, and mimicking his cries? 
 
I had to kill it.
 
I went to the kitchen in search of something I could use as a weapon. I’m not sure what I needed to kill a creature like the one laying in the crib, but I prayed my sharpest knife would do the trick.
 
I held the knife up, looking at myself in the reflection.
 
My eyes were sunken into my face, cradled by dark circles. My face so pale, it was as if it were translucent. The highways of veins visible just beneath the surface. I looked frail and weak, like the life had been sucked out of me.
 
This monster not only took my baby, but it was trying to take me as well. I refused to let that happen. I had to end this.
 
I crept down the hallway, holding the knife so tightly, my knuckles turned white.
 
“Deep breath. This is it. Just kill it and then everything can go back to normal.”
 
I grabbed the door to the nursery, throwing it wide open.
 
The crib was empty.
 
It was onto me.
 
I searched the nursery high and low, my heart slowly climbing its way into my throat.
 
“Where are you?” I shouted. “I know you’re not my son.”
 
No response.
 
The house was completely quiet, but I knew I wasn’t alone.
 
I made my way to the living room, when it started to laugh. The sound made my skin crawl. What had started as a baby’s laugh, slowly turned into a deep, raspy chuckle.
 
I stood, scanning my surroundings and trying to hold the knife with all the confidence I could muster.
 
“I won’t let you do this any longer,” I shouted.
 
It appeared in the doorway.
 
Despite the fact it stood no more than 3 feet tall, the sight sent fear through my body. It still looked like Damien, but it stood like a puppet. Little arms hung to the side unnaturally; chunky little legs bent in ways that should be impossible to support any weight. Its head rested on its shoulder, drool pouring out of its mouth.
 
“After I kill you, I will find my son.”
 
Its mouth curled up into a grin too big for its face and let out a laugh.
 
“If there’s anything left for you to find.”

Part 1 & 2

My stomach turned. I felt like I was going to be sick. 
 
“No. No this can’t be, Damien always had blue eyes.” 
 
I cautiously walked away from the crib. I didn’t want to agitate whatever creature had replaced my baby. 
 
“I don’t know what you did with my son, but I will find him. I know the truth now.” I whispered. I needed to get out of there.
 
Slowly, his head turned. Those two, soulless hazel eyes were now locked onto me. Its face cold and expressionless as it watched me sneak out of the room. 
 
I sprinted to the living room, trying to be as far away from the nursery as possible. 
 
“Pick up Sam, pick up!” I said desperately. 
 
Straight to voicemail. I tried again. 
 
“Please leave your message-” I redialed.
 
After the 4th try, Sam finally picked up. 
 
“Liz, is everything okay? You don’t normally call me when I’m at work.” 
 
“No Sam, nothing is okay. I need you to come home right now. Whatever this thing is in our house, it’s not Damien. I have proof.” I said in a harsh whisper, praying it didn’t hear me. 
 
“I can’t come home just yet, I’m sure everything is fine Liz, just keep an eye on Damien until I get back.” He replied with worry in his voice.
 
“That THING is not Damien. What don’t you understand? Why don’t you believe me?” 
 
He sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you babe, but do you hear yourself? What you’re saying really seems like a stretch.” 
 
“You think I don’t know how all this sounds Sam? Do you think I’m making this up just for fun?” I said, choking on my emotions.
 
“Its eyes… they’re different, Sam. They’re hazel. Damien’s eyes were blue.” 
 
He was quiet on the other line for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts.
 
“Liz, I think we need to talk to someone. Maybe a counselor or a therapist or something? You’re really starting to worry me.” 
 
“What about his eyes?” 
 
“Babe, don’t you remember from the books? All babies start out with blue eyes. He’s just starting to develop his true eye color. Look, I will tell my boss that I need to get off early and see what I can do. Just PLEASE don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or Damien. Promise me.” 
 
I had never heard this tone from Sam before. He sounded nervous. Not afraid of what I said being the truth, but rather, afraid of me. 
 
Afraid I would hurt our baby boy. 
 
“I promise Sam. You know I would never hurt Damien. Just please come home quickly.” 
 
“I’ll try.”  
 
After hanging up the phone, I plopped down on the couch, staring off in the distance. No one believed me. I was all alone.
 
I held my head in my hands. I just wanted all of this to go away. Why me? Why did the universe decide to give us an angel, just to replace him with this creature, this demon. All I wanted was to have Damien back. 
 
“Get it together. You have to figure this out. You have to find your son.” 
 
I got up off the couch and started pacing around the living room. I had to think. 
 
Whatever this thing is, it chose to replace my son. That meant it was probably safe to assume it was hiding its real identity. I just needed to find a way to show Sam. 
 
 I knew what I had to do. I had to cause hurt it. It’s hard to keep up an act when you’re bleeding out. 
 
I thought back to my call with Sam. I thought back to his plea and my promise.
 
I meant what I said. I would never, ever hurt Damien. But that thing mocking me, wearing my son’s face, and mimicking his cries? 
 
I had to kill it.
 
I went to the kitchen in search of something I could use as a weapon. I’m not sure what I needed to kill a creature like the one laying in the crib, but I prayed my sharpest knife would do the trick.
 
I held the knife up, looking at myself in the reflection.
 
My eyes were sunken into my face, cradled by dark circles. My face so pale, it was as if it were translucent. The highways of veins visible just beneath the surface. I looked frail and weak, like the life had been sucked out of me.
 
This monster not only took my baby, but it was trying to take me as well. I refused to let that happen. I had to end this.
 
I crept down the hallway, holding the knife so tightly, my knuckles turned white.
 
“Deep breath. This is it. Just kill it and then everything can go back to normal.”
 
I grabbed the door to the nursery, throwing it wide open.
 
The crib was empty.
 
It was onto me.
 
I searched the nursery high and low, my heart slowly climbing its way into my throat.
 
“Where are you?” I shouted. “I know you’re not my son.”
 
No response.
 
The house was completely quiet, but I knew I wasn’t alone.
 
I made my way to the living room, when it started to laugh. The sound made my skin crawl. What had started as a baby’s laugh, slowly turned into a deep, raspy chuckle.
 
I stood, scanning my surroundings and trying to hold the knife with all the confidence I could muster.
 
“I won’t let you do this any longer,” I shouted.
 
It appeared in the doorway.
 
Despite the fact it stood no more than 3 feet tall, the sight sent fear through my body. It still looked like Damien, but it stood like a puppet. Little arms hung to the side unnaturally; chunky little legs bent in ways that should be impossible to support any weight. Its head rested on its shoulder, drool pouring out of its mouth.
 
“After I kill you, I will find my son.”
 
Its mouth curled up into a grin too big for its face and let out a laugh.
 
“If there’s anything left for you to find.”

Part 1 & 2

My stomach turned. I felt like I was going to be sick. 
 
“No. No this can’t be, Damien always had blue eyes.” 
 
I cautiously walked away from the crib. I didn’t want to agitate whatever creature had replaced my baby. 
 
“I don’t know what you did with my son, but I will find him. I know the truth now.” I whispered. I needed to get out of there.
 
Slowly, his head turned. Those two, soulless hazel orbs were now locked onto me. Its face cold and expressionless as it watched me sneak out of the room. 
 
I sprinted to the living room, trying to be as far away from the nursery as possible. 
 
“Pick up Sam, pick up!” I said desperately. 
 
Straight to voicemail. I tried again. 
 
“Please leave your message-” I redialed.
 
After the 4th try, Sam finally picked up. 
 
“Liz, is everything okay? You don’t normally call me when I’m at work.” 
 
“No Sam, nothing is okay. I need you to come home right now. Whatever this thing is in our house, it’s not Damien. I have proof.” I said in a harsh whisper, praying it didn’t hear me. 
 
“I can’t come home just yet, I’m sure everything is fine Liz, just keep an eye on Damien until I get back.” He replied with worry in his voice.
 
“That THING is not Damien. What don’t you understand? Why don’t you believe me?” 
 
He sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you babe, but do you hear yourself? What you’re saying really seems like a stretch.” 
 
“You think I don’t know how all this sounds Sam? Do you think I’m making this up just for fun?” I said, choking on my emotions.
 
“Its eyes… they’re different, Sam. They’re hazel. Damien’s eyes were blue.” 
 
He was quiet on the other line for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts.
 
“Liz, I think we need to talk to someone. Maybe a counselor or a therapist or something? You’re really starting to worry me.” 
 
“What about his eyes?” 
 
“Babe, don’t you remember from the books? All babies start out with blue eyes. He’s just starting to develop his true eye color. Look, I will tell my boss that I need to get off early and see what I can do. Just PLEASE don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or Damien. Promise me.” 
 
I had never heard this tone from Sam before. He sounded nervous. Not afraid of what I said being the truth, but rather, afraid of me. 
 
Afraid I would hurt our baby boy. 
 
“I promise Sam. You know I would never hurt Damien. Just please come home quickly.” 
 
“I’ll try.”  
 
After hanging up the phone, I plopped down on the couch, staring off in the distance. No one believed me. I was all alone.
 
I held my head in my hands. I just wanted all of this to go away. Why me? Why did the universe decide to give us an angel, just to replace him with this creature, this demon. All I wanted was to have Damien back. 
 
“Get it together. You have to figure this out. You have to find your son.” 
 
I got up off the couch and started pacing around the living room. I had to think. 
 
Whatever this thing is, it chose to replace my son. That meant it was probably safe to assume it was hiding its real identity. I just needed to find a way to show Sam. 
 
 I knew what I had to do. I had to cause hurt it. It’s hard to keep up an act when you’re bleeding out. 
 
I thought back to my call with Sam. I thought back to his plea and my promise.
 
I meant what I said. I would never, ever hurt Damien. But that thing mocking me, wearing my son’s face, and mimicking his cries? 
 
I had to kill it.
 
I went to the kitchen in search of something I could use as a weapon. I’m not sure what I needed to kill a creature like the one laying in the crib, but I prayed my sharpest knife would do the trick.
 
I held the knife up, looking at myself in the reflection.
 
My eyes were sunken into my face, cradled by dark circles. My face so pale, it was as if it were translucent. The highways of veins visible just beneath the surface. I looked frail and weak, like the life had been sucked out of me.
 
This monster not only took my baby, but it was trying to take me as well. I refused to let that happen. I had to end this.
 
I crept down the hallway, holding the knife so tightly, my knuckles turned white.
 
“Deep breath. This is it. Just kill it and then everything can go back to normal.”
 
I grabbed the door to the nursery, throwing it wide open.
 
The crib was empty.
 
It was onto me.
 
I searched the nursery high and low, my heart slowly climbing its way into my throat.
 
“Where are you?” I shouted. “I know you’re not my son.”
 
No response.
 
The house was completely quiet, but I knew I wasn’t alone.
 
I made my way to the living room, when it started to laugh. The sound made my skin crawl. What had started as a baby’s laugh, slowly turned into a deep, raspy chuckle.
 
I stood, scanning my surroundings and trying to hold the knife with all the confidence I could muster.
 
“I won’t let you do this any longer,” I shouted.
 
It appeared in the doorway.
 
Despite the fact it stood no more than 3 feet tall, the sight sent fear through my body. It still looked like Damien, but it stood like a puppet. Little arms hung to the side unnaturally; chunky little legs bent in ways that should be impossible to support any weight. Its head rested on its shoulder, drool pouring out of its mouth.
 
“After I kill you, I will find my son.”
 
Its mouth curled up into a grin too big for its face and let out a laugh.
 
“If there’s anything left for you to find.”

Part 1 & 2
My stomach turned. I felt like I was going to be sick. 
 
“No. No this can’t be, Damien always had blue eyes.” 
 
I cautiously walked away from the crib. I didn’t want to agitate whatever creature had replaced my baby. 
 
“I don’t know what you did with my son, but I will find him. I know the truth now.” I whispered. I needed to get out of there.
 
Slowly, his head turned. Those two, soulless hazel eyes were now locked onto me. Its face cold and expressionless as it watched me sneak out of the room. 
 
I sprinted to the living room, trying to be as far away from the nursery as possible. 
 
“Pick up Sam, pick up!” I said desperately. 
 
Straight to voicemail. I tried again. 
 
“Please leave your message-” I redialed.
 
After the 4th try, Sam finally picked up. 
 
“Liz, is everything okay? You don’t normally call me when I’m at work.” 
 
“No Sam, nothing is okay. I need you to come home right now. Whatever this thing is in our house, it’s not Damien. I have proof.” I said in a harsh whisper, praying it didn’t hear me. 
 
“I can’t come home just yet, I’m sure everything is fine Liz, just keep an eye on Damien until I get back.” He replied with worry in his voice.
 
“That THING is not Damien. What don’t you understand? Why don’t you believe me?” 
 
He sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you babe, but do you hear yourself? What you’re saying really seems like a stretch.” 
 
“You think I don’t know how all this sounds Sam? Do you think I’m making this up just for fun?” I said, choking on my emotions.
 
“Its eyes… they’re different, Sam. They’re hazel. Damien’s eyes were blue.” 
 
He was quiet on the other line for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts.
 
“Liz, I think we need to talk to someone. Maybe a counselor or a therapist or something? You’re really starting to worry me.” 
 
“What about his eyes?” 
 
“Babe, don’t you remember from the books? All babies start out with blue eyes. He’s just starting to develop his true eye color. Look, I will tell my boss that I need to get off early and see what I can do. Just PLEASE don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or Damien. Promise me.” 
 
I had never heard this tone from Sam before. He sounded nervous. Not afraid of what I said being the truth, but rather, afraid of me. 
 
Afraid I would hurt our baby boy. 
 
“I promise Sam. You know I would never hurt Damien. Just please come home quickly.” 
 
“I’ll try.”  
 
After hanging up the phone, I plopped down on the couch, staring off in the distance. No one believed me. I was all alone.
 
I held my head in my hands. I just wanted all of this to go away. Why me? Why did the universe decide to give us an angel, just to replace him with this creature, this demon. All I wanted was to have Damien back. 
 
“Get it together. You have to figure this out. You have to find your son.” 
 
I got up off the couch and started pacing around the living room. I had to think. 
 
Whatever this thing is, it chose to replace my son. That meant it was probably safe to assume it was hiding its real identity. I just needed to find a way to show Sam. 
 
 I knew what I had to do. I had to cause hurt it. It’s hard to keep up an act when you’re bleeding out. 
 
I thought back to my call with Sam. I thought back to his plea and my promise.
 
I meant what I said. I would never, ever hurt Damien. But that thing mocking me, wearing my son’s face, and mimicking his cries? 
 
I had to kill it.
 
I went to the kitchen in search of something I could use as a weapon. I’m not sure what I needed to kill a creature like the one laying in the crib, but I prayed my sharpest knife would do the trick.
 
I held the knife up, looking at myself in the reflection.
 
My eyes were sunken into my face, cradled by dark circles. My face so pale, it was as if it were translucent. The highways of veins visible just beneath the surface. I looked frail and weak, like the life had been sucked out of me.
 
This monster not only took my baby, but it was trying to take me as well. I refused to let that happen. I had to end this.
 
I crept down the hallway, holding the knife so tightly, my knuckles turned white.
 
“Deep breath. This is it. Just kill it and then everything can go back to normal.”
 
I grabbed the door to the nursery, throwing it wide open.
 
The crib was empty.
 
It was onto me.
 
I searched the nursery high and low, my heart slowly climbing its way into my throat.
 
“Where are you?” I shouted. “I know you’re not my son.”
 
No response.
 
The house was completely quiet, but I knew I wasn’t alone.
 
I made my way to the living room, when it started to laugh. The sound made my skin crawl. What had started as a baby’s laugh, slowly turned into a deep, raspy chuckle.
 
I stood, scanning my surroundings and trying to hold the knife with all the confidence I could muster.
 
“I won’t let you do this any longer,” I shouted.
 
It appeared in the doorway.
 
Despite the fact it stood no more than 3 feet tall, the sight sent fear through my body. It still looked like Damien, but it stood like a puppet. Little arms hung to the side unnaturally; chunky little legs bent in ways that should be impossible to support any weight. Its head rested on its shoulder, drool pouring out of its mouth.
 
“After I kill you, I will find my son.”
 
Its mouth curled up into a grin too big for its face and let out a laugh.
 
“If there’s anything left for you to find.”

Part 1 & 2

My stomach turned. I felt like I was going to be sick. 
 
“No. No this can’t be, Damien always had blue eyes.” 
 
I cautiously walked away from the crib. I didn’t want to agitate whatever creature had replaced my baby. 
 
“I don’t know what you did with my son, but I will find him. I know the truth now.” I whispered. I needed to get out of there.
 
Slowly, his head turned. Those two, soulless hazel eyes were now locked onto me. Its face cold and expressionless as it watched me sneak out of the room. 
 
I sprinted to the living room, trying to be as far away from the nursery as possible. 
 
“Pick up Sam, pick up!” I said desperately. 
 
Straight to voicemail. I tried again. 
 
“Please leave your message-” I redialed.
 
After the 4th try, Sam finally picked up. 
 
“Liz, is everything okay? You don’t normally call me when I’m at work.” 
 
“No Sam, nothing is okay. I need you to come home right now. Whatever this thing is in our house, it’s not Damien. I have proof.” I said in a harsh whisper, praying it didn’t hear me. 
 
“I can’t come home just yet, I’m sure everything is fine Liz, just keep an eye on Damien until I get back.” He replied with worry in his voice.
 
“That THING is not Damien. What don’t you understand? Why don’t you believe me?” 
 
He sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you babe, but do you hear yourself? What you’re saying really seems like a stretch.” 
 
“You think I don’t know how all this sounds Sam? Do you think I’m making this up just for fun?” I said, choking on my emotions.
 
“Its eyes… they’re different, Sam. They’re hazel. Damien’s eyes were blue.” 
 
He was quiet on the other line for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts.
 
“Liz, I think we need to talk to someone. Maybe a counselor or a therapist or something? You’re really starting to worry me.” 
 
“What about his eyes?” 
 
“Babe, don’t you remember from the books? All babies start out with blue eyes. He’s just starting to develop his true eye color. Look, I will tell my boss that I need to get off early and see what I can do. Just PLEASE don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or Damien. Promise me.” 
 
I had never heard this tone from Sam before. He sounded nervous. Not afraid of what I said being the truth, but rather, afraid of me. 
 
Afraid I would hurt our baby boy. 
 
“I promise Sam. You know I would never hurt Damien. Just please come home quickly.” 
 
“I’ll try.”  
 
After hanging up the phone, I plopped down on the couch, staring off in the distance. No one believed me. I was all alone.
 
I held my head in my hands. I just wanted all of this to go away. Why me? Why did the universe decide to give us an angel, just to replace him with this creature, this demon. All I wanted was to have Damien back. 
 
“Get it together. You have to figure this out. You have to find your son.” 
 
I got up off the couch and started pacing around the living room. I had to think. 
 
Whatever this thing is, it chose to replace my son. That meant it was probably safe to assume it was hiding its real identity. I just needed to find a way to show Sam. 
 
 I knew what I had to do. I had to cause hurt it. It’s hard to keep up an act when you’re bleeding out. 
 
I thought back to my call with Sam. I thought back to his plea and my promise.
 
I meant what I said. I would never, ever hurt Damien. But that thing mocking me, wearing my son’s face, and mimicking his cries? 
 
I had to kill it.
 
I went to the kitchen in search of something I could use as a weapon. I’m not sure what I needed to kill a creature like the one laying in the crib, but I prayed my sharpest knife would do the trick.
 
I held the knife up, looking at myself in the reflection.
 
My eyes were sunken into my face, cradled by dark circles. My face so pale, it was as if it were translucent. The highways of veins visible just beneath the surface. I looked frail and weak, like the life had been sucked out of me.
 
This monster not only took my baby, but it was trying to take me as well. I refused to let that happen. I had to end this.
 
I crept down the hallway, holding the knife so tightly, my knuckles turned white.
 
“Deep breath. This is it. Just kill it and then everything can go back to normal.”
 
I grabbed the door to the nursery, throwing it wide open.
 
The crib was empty.
 
It was onto me.
 
I searched the nursery high and low, my heart slowly climbing its way into my throat.
 
“Where are you?” I shouted. “I know you’re not my son.”
 
No response.
 
The house was completely quiet, but I knew I wasn’t alone.
 
I made my way to the living room, when it started to laugh. The sound made my skin crawl. What had started as a baby’s laugh, slowly turned into a deep, raspy chuckle.
 
I stood, scanning my surroundings and trying to hold the knife with all the confidence I could muster.
 
“I won’t let you do this any longer,” I shouted.
 
It appeared in the doorway.
 
Despite the fact it stood no more than 3 feet tall, the sight sent fear through my body. It still looked like Damien, but it stood like a puppet. Little arms hung to the side unnaturally; chunky little legs bent in ways that should be impossible to support any weight. Its head rested on its shoulder, drool pouring out of its mouth.
 
“After I kill you, I will find my son.”
 
Its mouth curled up into a grin too big for its face and let out a laugh.
 
“If there’s anything left for you to find.”

I stared in disbelief as my hands began to shake so hard, I almost dropped the test. Two pink lines.
 
“Sam, we did it! We finally did it! We’re going to be parents!” I screamed with joy.
 
We had been trying for over six years. Six years of tears and heartbreak. Six years of seeing those around us start their own families, leaving us behind. And now, after all this time, it was finally our turn. 
 
The pregnancy was relatively easy. Minimal morning sickness, minimal weight gain, it was truly every woman’s dream. As the 9 months of anticipation and anxiety were drawing to a close, our excitement grew. We finished up all our last-minute projects, from building the crib and decorating the nursery, to packing our bags and installing the car seat in place.
 
We had taken all the classes, read all the books, and bought every single one of the little gadgets marketed to new parents.
 
We were ready to bring home our baby boy.
 
In the early hours of March 13th, Damien Michael entered the world.
 
He let out a loud cry, as if he were claiming victory over the 6-year war we had fought. Our little family was finally complete. After cleaning him off, the nurses brought our baby boy back over to us.
 
 “He’s beautiful Liz, he even has your blue eyes,” Sam said, with tears filling his own.
 
I replied, “He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.”
 
Our hearts felt so full of love, they could burst. For hours upon hours, we just stared at him in awe. We obsessed over every detail, from his cute little chunky cheeks and baby soft skin to his little fingers and toes. I marveled at this bundle of joy lying before us, sleeping without a care in the world.
 
Even though today marked the first day of our lives together, I didn’t feel like I was staring at a stranger. It felt as though we knew each other, like I had known him my whole life.
 
We quickly traded our infatuation for exhaustion. The reality of having a newborn set in quickly.
 
The first six weeks were rough. I hadn’t slept (or showered) in what felt like years. Naps were pointless. When I was actually able to rest, I would wake up feeling even more sluggish than before. Chores were neglected, filth gathered in all corners of the house. Burp cloths, dirty diapers, and take-out boxes all piled together.
 
Eventually though, we started to get the hang of this parenting thing. The mountains of dirty diapers and laundry disappeared. Entire populations of dust bunnies were decimated, and I started smelling more like cherry blossom soap and less like a sweaty cow. For a while, we had peace. 
 
It was little things at first. Some nights, the baby monitor would just show static or make weird noises like unintelligible whispers.
 
Other nights, I would open the door to his nursery, and it seemed as though the shadows fled from view, huddled together in a corner out of sight.
 
Then it escalated.
 
For a few nights in a row, toys that Damien wasn’t old enough to play with would be out of place. At first, they would just be scattered around the nursery floor. I would pick them up and hide them away, hoping to fool whatever invisible force was moving them.
 
I had no luck though. The next day, after I managed to get Damien down for a nap, I tiptoed out and quietly closed the door. I was met with an obstacle course of building blocks. Blocks that weren’t there when I entered the room.
 
The following night, at 2:00 AM, I woke up to find a stuffed teddy bear positioned upright at the end of the bed. The lifeless plastic eyes looking directly at me. “I really need whatever is going on to stop,” I sighed with exasperation. I threw a blanket over my head and prayed sleep would come to me once more.
 
I tried to explain these things away. To rationalize them in my head so that I could sleep easier at night. Maybe Sam was just trying to mess with me? Maybe I was just so sleep deprived that I was having lapses in memory?
 
I settled on the latter explanation. But much like a rubber band, it could only stretch so far before it snapped.
 
One evening, after what felt like an eternity, Damien was finally asleep.
 
Despite my desire to jump into bed and call it a day, chores still had to be done. I looked at the clock.
 
 9:46 PM.
 
“I guess Sam must be working late,” I muttered to myself.
 
 I propped up the baby monitor and started on the dishes. They felt never ending. I was trapped in a purgatory of suds and dirty dish water. Scrub, rinse, repeat. I checked the clock again, thinking surely hours must have passed. 
 
10:07 PM.
 
 “Maybe I should just head to bed and finish this up tomorrow,” I said, feeling defeated. 
 
I dried off my hands and picked up the baby monitor. That’s when I noticed that it kept on cutting to static, despite showing full bars on the screen.
 
 “This is what happens when you go for the cheapest option,” I sighed, smacking the side of the monitor.
 
 I must have broken it because then the audio went dead. I smacked it again, hoping for a better result and when the audio came back to life, it began to emit an eerie lullaby.
 
“That’s weird, I know I didn’t turn on the sound machine.”
 
 Trying to brush off the feeling of unease, I turned the kitchen light off as I headed towards the hallway. 
 
I didn’t even make it 3 steps before the light flicked back on.
 
Then off.
 
On. Off. On. Off.
 
Before I could decide what to do, the living room light started to do the same thing. On. Off. On. Off. Every single light in the house soon joined in on this cruel joke. On. Off. On. Off. POP! I tried flicking them back on. No luck.
 
“Hello?”
 
 Nothing. I was entirely alone.
 
I tried to carefully make it out of the kitchen, using the light from the baby monitor to guide my way.
 
 “Hello? Hello?”
 
 I stopped in my tracks.
 
The voice was coming from the monitor.
 
The voice that replied was my own.
 
Slowly, I turned the monitor over, hands shaking. 
 
There he was.
 
 Damien, the baby who could barely hold up his head, was holding onto the wooden slats of the crib. He looked directly into the camera.
 
Directly into my soul.
 
Frightened, I dropped the monitor onto the ground, sending the house into darkness. The sound echoed down the hallway, followed by cries not long after. When I picked it up, he was laying in bed as though nothing had happened.
 
 “I desperately need to sleep.”
 
I entered the nursery and scooped him up out of bed, heart still racing from earlier events. I sat in the rocking chair and looked around.
 
Nothing was out of the ordinary. The sound machine off, night light on, no mysteriously placed toys.
 
“You need to get a grip Liz. You’re a mother now. You must be brave.”
 
 I tried to calm myself as we rocked back and forth. I pulled Damien close and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay baby, mama’s here. You’re safe.”
 
We rocked some more in peace and quiet, both of us fighting off sleep. Breaking the silence, something whispered:
 
 “But you aren’t.”
 
My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe.
 
The voice was coming from the bundle in my arms.

Part 1

Fighting the urge to run, I forced myself to look at Damien.

He was quietly sleeping, his chest rhythmically rising and falling.

“Of course it didn’t come from him, he’s just a baby. Geez Liz, you really need help.” I said to myself, not exactly helping my case.

I stared off into space, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. I’m not a particularly superstitious person, but it was hard to find a logical explanation for everything. Was there a power surge? No, the night light was unharmed by whatever happened. What about what I saw? What I heard? I had no clue how to even begin to comprehend that.

Breaking me from my trance, I heard the front door creak open.

“Sam’s home, thank God.”

After carefully laying Damien down in his crib, I tiptoed out and closed the door. I needed to tell Sam everything that happened.

Before he could fully make it through the door, I relayed everything that had just happened in a single breath.

“Woah, slow down babe. What’s going on?”

“Something’s not right, Sam. First the lights, then the voice. Something’s going on and it’s really scaring me.”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with the lights,” he said.

Reaching out, he flipped on the kitchen light. The light bulb glowed as it illuminated the room, with a gentle hum that seemed to mock me.

“But… they were going off on their own. I swear.“

“Well, they’re working now,” Sam said, gently kissing my forehead.

We walked to the nursery so Sam could see Damien before bed. Quietly sneaking in, he walked over to the crib and whispered goodnight.

“See?” Sam said, walking out. “There’s nobody there, Liz.”

As we walked back to our room, I felt foolish, like a kid making their dad look under the bed for monsters. I could’ve sworn I heard a voice in there. Sam broke me from my thoughts.

“Is everything okay babe? I’m a little worried for you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m just exhausted. It’s nothing, really.”

He sighed. “Okay, if you say so.”

I could tell he didn’t entirely believe the excuse I gave him, but he didn’t push. He kissed me goodnight and turned off the lights.

I could hear him snore as I was ruminating over everything that happened in the last few hours.

I couldn’t explain things away anymore. I was at a loss. I KNOW I heard a voice tell me I wasn’t safe. I KNOW I saw Damien standing in his room. All the weird stuff that had been happening, it started when we brought Damien home.

I couldn’t tell Sam the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth. If they knew, they would think I really was going crazy. I had to find some way to prove I wasn’t just imagining things. I tried to quiet my mind and go to sleep.

When I awoke, Sam had already left for work. I wanted to push the events of the night before out of my mind, but I wasn’t having much success. It was all I could think about.

I laid in bed and tried to brainstorm ways to come up with proof.

“Maybe I could record the monitor? Or start taking pictures when things are out of place?” I thought.

All I wanted is for someone to believe me. I looked for answers on Reddit for over an hour, but my searches brought up nothing. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I reached for the door handle but paused when I noticed light shifting under the door.

There was something, or someone, waiting for me on the other side.

Unsure of what to do, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would go away.

“Mama…I see you mama.”

“This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.”

I held my eyes closed so tightly that my eyelids started to ache.

“Why are your eyes shut mama? Are we playing hide and seek?” It said in a sweet, innocent sort of way.

“I don’t think I want to play with you right now,” I said. I attempted to sound confident, but my voice betrayed me.

“But… I want to play NOW. I’ll hide first,” the voice said in an angry growl.

As the shadow disappeared, I heard skittering across the hardwood floor.

My heart pounded so loud, it felt like each beat shook the room. Cold sweat droplets formed on my head. I felt dizzy.

I needed to find Damien. I needed to know the truth. Was all of this really his fault? Surely it couldn’t be. Unless, unless that thing wasn’t my baby. Could a monster have really taken Damien and replaced him? If that was true, that meant my son was out there somewhere.

All alone.

I had to find my baby. I needed to know the truth.

Still terrified, I slowly opened the door. I knew I had to get to the nursery to see if Damien was still in his crib. That would give me the answer I was searching for.

I tried to creep down the hallway, having to remind myself to breathe. I was close, I could feel it. I would finally have my answer about the voices, the toys, the baby monitor. Everything.

I opened the door and to my surprise, Damien was awake in his crib, just staring at the ceiling.

“Thank God it’s not you.” I said, with a small sigh of relief.

I’m not sure what outcome would’ve been better. On the one hand, this meant something else was responsible for all the supernatural occurrences. On the other hand, at least I still had my baby boy.

I stared at him, admiring my creation, my little lighthouse in this dark sea of torment.

That’s when I saw them.

His eyes.

Staring back at me were two hazel-colored eyes.

Part 1

Fighting the urge to run, I forced myself to look at Damien.

He was quietly sleeping, his chest rhythmically rising and falling.

“Of course it didn’t come from him, he’s just a baby. Geez Liz, you really need help.” I said to myself, not exactly helping my case.

I stared off into space, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. I’m not a particularly superstitious person, but it was hard to find a logical explanation for everything. Was there a power surge? No, the night light was unharmed by whatever happened. What about what I saw? What I heard? I had no clue how to even begin to comprehend that.

Breaking me from my trance, I heard the front door creak open.

“Sam’s home, thank God.”

After carefully laying Damien down in his crib, I tiptoed out and closed the door. I needed to tell Sam everything that happened.

Before he could fully make it through the door, I relayed everything that had just happened in a single breath.

“Woah, slow down babe. What’s going on?”

“Something’s not right, Sam. First the lights, then the voice. Something’s going on and it’s really scaring me.”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with the lights,” he said.

Reaching out, he flipped on the kitchen light. The light bulb glowed as it illuminated the room, with a gentle hum that seemed to mock me.

“But… they were going off on their own. I swear.“

“Well, they’re working now,” Sam said, gently kissing my forehead.

We walked to the nursery so Sam could see Damien before bed. Quietly sneaking in, he walked over to the crib and whispered goodnight.

“See?” Sam said, walking out. “There’s nobody there, Liz.”

As we walked back to our room, I felt foolish, like a kid making their dad look under the bed for monsters. I could’ve sworn I heard a voice in there. Sam broke me from my thoughts.

“Is everything okay babe? I’m a little worried for you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m just exhausted. It’s nothing, really.”

He sighed. “Okay, if you say so.”

I could tell he didn’t entirely believe the excuse I gave him, but he didn’t push. He kissed me goodnight and turned off the lights.

I could hear him snore as I was ruminating over everything that happened in the last few hours.

I couldn’t explain things away anymore. I was at a loss. I KNOW I heard a voice tell me I wasn’t safe. I KNOW I saw Damien standing in his room. All the weird stuff that had been happening, it started when we brought Damien home.

I couldn’t tell Sam the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth. If they knew, they would think I really was going crazy. I had to find some way to prove I wasn’t just imagining things. I tried to quiet my mind and go to sleep.

When I awoke, Sam had already left for work. I wanted to push the events of the night before out of my mind, but I wasn’t having much success. It was all I could think about.

I laid in bed and tried to brainstorm ways to come up with proof.

“Maybe I could record the monitor? Or start taking pictures when things are out of place?” I thought.

All I wanted is for someone to believe me. I looked for answers on Reddit for over an hour, but my searches brought up nothing. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I reached for the door handle but paused when I noticed light shifting under the door.

There was something, or someone, waiting for me on the other side.

Unsure of what to do, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would go away.

“Mama…I see you mama.”

“This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.”

I held my eyes closed so tightly that my eyelids started to ache.

“Why are your eyes shut mama? Are we playing hide and seek?” It said in a sweet, innocent sort of way.

“I don’t think I want to play with you right now,” I said. I attempted to sound confident, but my voice betrayed me.

“But… I want to play NOW. I’ll hide first,” the voice said in an angry growl.

As the shadow disappeared, I heard skittering across the hardwood floor.

My heart pounded so loud, it felt like each beat shook the room. Cold sweat droplets formed on my head. I felt dizzy.

I needed to find Damien. I needed to know the truth. Was all of this really his fault? Surely it couldn’t be. Unless, unless that thing wasn’t my baby. Could a monster have really taken Damien and replaced him? If that was true, that meant my son was out there somewhere.

All alone.

I had to find my baby. I needed to know the truth.

Still terrified, I slowly opened the door. I knew I had to get to the nursery to see if Damien was still in his crib. That would give me the answer I was searching for.

I tried to creep down the hallway, having to remind myself to breathe. I was close, I could feel it. I would finally have my answer about the voices, the toys, the baby monitor. Everything.

I opened the door and to my surprise, Damien was awake in his crib, just staring at the ceiling.

“Thank God it’s not you.” I said, with a small sigh of relief.

I’m not sure what outcome would’ve been better. On the one hand, this meant something else was responsible for all the supernatural occurrences. On the other hand, at least I still had my baby boy.

I stared at him, admiring my creation, my little lighthouse in this dark sea of torment.

That’s when I saw them.

His eyes.

Staring back at me were two hazel-colored eyes.

Part 1

Fighting the urge to run, I forced myself to look at Damien.

He was quietly sleeping, his chest rhythmically rising and falling.

“Of course it didn’t come from him, he’s just a baby. Geez Liz, you really need help.” I said to myself, not exactly helping my case.

I stared off into space, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. I’m not a particularly superstitious person, but it was hard to find a logical explanation for everything. Was there a power surge? No, the night light was unharmed by whatever happened. What about what I saw? What I heard? I had no clue how to even begin to comprehend that.

Breaking me from my trance, I heard the front door creak open.

“Sam’s home, thank God.”

After carefully laying Damien down in his crib, I tiptoed out and closed the door. I needed to tell Sam everything that happened.

Before he could fully make it through the door, I relayed everything that had just happened in a single breath.

“Woah, slow down babe. What’s going on?”

“Something’s not right, Sam. First the lights, then the voice. Something’s going on and it’s really scaring me.”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with the lights,” he said.

Reaching out, he flipped on the kitchen light. The light bulb glowed as it illuminated the room, with a gentle hum that seemed to mock me.

“But… they were going off on their own. I swear.“

“Well, they’re working now,” Sam said, gently kissing my forehead.

We walked to the nursery so Sam could see Damien before bed. Quietly sneaking in, he walked over to the crib and whispered goodnight.

“See?” Sam said, walking out. “There’s nobody there, Liz.”

As we walked back to our room, I felt foolish, like a kid making their dad look under the bed for monsters. I could’ve sworn I heard a voice in there. Sam broke me from my thoughts.

“Is everything okay babe? I’m a little worried for you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m just exhausted. It’s nothing, really.”

He sighed. “Okay, if you say so.”

I could tell he didn’t entirely believe the excuse I gave him, but he didn’t push. He kissed me goodnight and turned off the lights.

I could hear him snore as I was ruminating over everything that happened in the last few hours.

I couldn’t explain things away anymore. I was at a loss. I KNOW I heard a voice tell me I wasn’t safe. I KNOW I saw Damien standing in his room. All the weird stuff that had been happening, it started when we brought Damien home.

I couldn’t tell Sam the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth. If they knew, they would think I really was going crazy. I had to find some way to prove I wasn’t just imagining things. I tried to quiet my mind and go to sleep.

When I awoke, Sam had already left for work. I wanted to push the events of the night before out of my mind, but I wasn’t having much success. It was all I could think about.

I laid in bed and tried to brainstorm ways to come up with proof.

“Maybe I could record the monitor? Or start taking pictures when things are out of place?” I thought.

All I wanted is for someone to believe me. I looked for answers on Reddit for over an hour, but my searches brought up nothing. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I reached for the door handle but paused when I noticed light shifting under the door.

There was something, or someone, waiting for me on the other side.

Unsure of what to do, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would go away.

“Mama…I see you mama.”

“This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.”

I held my eyes closed so tightly that my eyelids started to ache.

“Why are your eyes shut mama? Are we playing hide and seek?” It said in a sweet, innocent sort of way.

“I don’t think I want to play with you right now,” I said. I attempted to sound confident, but my voice betrayed me.

“But… I want to play NOW. I’ll hide first,” the voice said in an angry growl.

As the shadow disappeared, I heard skittering across the hardwood floor.

My heart pounded so loud, it felt like each beat shook the room. Cold sweat droplets formed on my head. I felt dizzy.

I needed to find Damien. I needed to know the truth. Was all of this really his fault? Surely it couldn’t be. Unless, unless that thing wasn’t my baby. Could a monster have really taken Damien and replaced him? If that was true, that meant my son was out there somewhere.

All alone.

I had to find my baby. I needed to know the truth.

Still terrified, I slowly opened the door. I knew I had to get to the nursery to see if Damien was still in his crib. That would give me the answer I was searching for.

I tried to creep down the hallway, having to remind myself to breathe. I was close, I could feel it. I would finally have my answer about the voices, the toys, the baby monitor. Everything.

I opened the door and to my surprise, Damien was awake in his crib, just staring at the ceiling.

“Thank God it’s not you.” I said, with a small sigh of relief.

I’m not sure what outcome would’ve been better. On the one hand, this meant something else was responsible for all the supernatural occurrences. On the other hand, at least I still had my baby boy.

I stared at him, admiring my creation, my little lighthouse in this dark sea of torment.

That’s when I saw them.

His eyes.

Staring back at me were two hazel-colored eyes.

Part 1

Fighting the urge to run, I forced myself to look at Damien. 
 
He was quietly sleeping, his chest rhythmically rising and falling. 
 
“Of course it didn’t come from him, he’s just a baby. Geez Liz, you really need help.” I said to myself, not exactly helping my case. 
 
I stared off into space, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. I’m not a particularly superstitious person, but it was hard to find a logical explanation for everything. Was there a power surge? No, the night light was unharmed by whatever happened. What about what I saw? What I heard? I had no clue how to even begin to comprehend that. 
 
Breaking me from my trance, I heard the front door creak open.
 
 “Sam’s home, thank God.” 
 
After carefully laying Damien down in his crib, I tiptoed out and closed the door. I needed to tell Sam everything that happened. 
 
Before he could fully make it through the door, I relayed everything that had just happened in a single breath. 
 
“Woah, slow down babe. What’s going on?” 
 
“Something’s not right, Sam. First the lights, then the voice. Something’s going on and it’s really scaring me.”
 
“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with the lights,” he said.
 
Reaching out, he flipped on the kitchen light. The light bulb glowed as it illuminated the room, with a gentle hum that seemed to mock me. 
 
“But… they were going off on their own. I swear.“ 
 
“Well, they’re working now,” Sam said, gently kissing my forehead. 
 
We walked to the nursery so Sam could see Damien before bed. Quietly sneaking in, he walked over to the crib and whispered goodnight. 
 
“See?” Sam said, walking out. “There’s nobody there, Liz.” 
 
As we walked back to our room, I felt foolish, like a kid making their dad look under the bed for monsters. I could’ve sworn I heard a voice in there. Sam broke me from my thoughts.
 
 “Is everything okay babe? I’m a little worried for you.” 
 
“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m just exhausted. It’s nothing, really.” 
 
He sighed. “Okay, if you say so.” 
 
I could tell he didn’t entirely believe the excuse I gave him, but he didn’t push. He kissed me goodnight and turned off the lights. 
 
I could hear him snore as I was ruminating over everything that happened in the last few hours. 
 
I couldn’t explain things away anymore. I was at a loss. I KNOW I heard a voice tell me I wasn’t safe. I KNOW I saw Damien standing in his room. All the weird stuff that had been happening, it started when we brought Damien home.
 
I couldn’t tell Sam the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth. If they knew, they would think I really was going crazy. I had to find some way to prove I wasn’t just imagining things. I tried to quiet my mind and go to sleep.
 
When I awoke, Sam had already left for work. I wanted to push the events of the night before out of my mind, but I wasn’t having much success. It was all I could think about. 
 
I laid in bed and tried to brainstorm ways to come up with proof. 
 
“Maybe I could record the monitor? Or start taking pictures when things are out of place?” I thought. 
 
All I wanted is for someone to believe me. I looked for answers on Reddit for over an hour, but my searches brought up nothing. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I reached for the door handle but paused when I noticed light shifting under the door. 
 
There was something, or someone, waiting for me on the other side. 
 
Unsure of what to do, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would go away. 
 
 “Mama…I see you mama.”
 
“This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.” 
 
I held my eyes closed so tightly that my eyelids started to ache.
 
“Why are your eyes shut mama? Are we playing hide and seek?” It said in a sweet, innocent sort of way. 
 
“I don’t think I want to play with you right now,” I said. I attempted to sound confident, but my voice betrayed me.
 
“But… I want to play NOW. I’ll hide first,” the voice said in an angry growl.
 
As the shadow disappeared, I heard skittering across the hardwood floor.
 
My heart pounded so loud, it felt like each beat shook the room. Cold sweat droplets formed on my head. I felt dizzy. 
 
I needed to find Damien. I needed to know the truth. Was all of this really his fault? Surely it couldn’t be. Unless, unless that thing wasn’t my baby. Could a monster have really taken Damien and replaced him? If that was true, that meant my son was out there somewhere.
 
All alone. 
 
I had to find my baby. I needed to know the truth. 
 
Still terrified, I slowly opened the door. I knew I had to get to the nursery to see if Damien was still in his crib. That would give me the answer I was searching for. 
 
I tried to creep down the hallway, having to remind myself to breathe. I was close, I could feel it. I would finally have my answer about the voices, the toys, the baby monitor. Everything.
 
I opened the door and to my surprise, Damien was awake in his crib, just staring at the ceiling. 
 
“Thank God it’s not you.” I said, with a small sigh of relief. 
 
I’m not sure what outcome would’ve been better. On the one hand, this meant something else was responsible for all the supernatural occurrences. On the other hand, at least I still had my baby boy.
 
I stared at him, admiring my creation, my little lighthouse in this dark sea of torment.
 
That’s when I saw them. 
 
His eyes. 
 
Staring back at me were two hazel-colored eyes.

Part 1

Fighting the urge to run, I forced myself to look at Damien. 
 
He was quietly sleeping, his chest rhythmically rising and falling. 
 
“Of course it didn’t come from him, he’s just a baby. Geez Liz, you really need help.” I said to myself, not exactly helping my case. 
 
I stared off into space, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. I’m not a particularly superstitious person, but it was hard to find a logical explanation for everything. Was there a power surge? No, the night light was unharmed by whatever happened. What about what I saw? What I heard? I had no clue how to even begin to comprehend that. 
 
Breaking me from my trance, I heard the front door creak open.
 
 “Sam’s home, thank God.” 
 
After carefully laying Damien down in his crib, I tiptoed out and closed the door. I needed to tell Sam everything that happened. 
 
Before he could fully make it through the door, I relayed everything that had just happened in a single breath. 
 
“Woah, slow down babe. What’s going on?” 
 
“Something’s not right, Sam. First the lights, then the voice. Something’s going on and it’s really scaring me.”
 
“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with the lights,” he said.
 
Reaching out, he flipped on the kitchen light. The light bulb glowed as it illuminated the room, with a gentle hum that seemed to mock me. 
 
“But… they were going off on their own. I swear.“ 
 
“Well, they’re working now,” Sam said, gently kissing my forehead. 
 
We walked to the nursery so Sam could see Damien before bed. Quietly sneaking in, he walked over to the crib and whispered goodnight. 
 
“See?” Sam said, walking out. “There’s nobody there, Liz.” 
 
As we walked back to our room, I felt foolish, like a kid making their dad look under the bed for monsters. I could’ve sworn I heard a voice in there. Sam broke me from my thoughts.
 
 “Is everything okay babe? I’m a little worried for you.” 
 
“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m just exhausted. It’s nothing, really.” 
 
He sighed. “Okay, if you say so.” 
 
I could tell he didn’t entirely believe the excuse I gave him, but he didn’t push. He kissed me goodnight and turned off the lights. 
 
I could hear him snore as I was ruminating over everything that happened in the last few hours. 
 
I couldn’t explain things away anymore. I was at a loss. I KNOW I heard a voice tell me I wasn’t safe. I KNOW I saw Damien standing in his room. All the weird stuff that had been happening, it started when we brought Damien home.
 
I couldn’t tell Sam the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth. If they knew, they would think I really was going crazy. I had to find some way to prove I wasn’t just imagining things. I tried to quiet my mind and go to sleep.
 
When I awoke, Sam had already left for work. I wanted to push the events of the night before out of my mind, but I wasn’t having much success. It was all I could think about. 
 
I laid in bed and tried to brainstorm ways to come up with proof. 
 
“Maybe I could record the monitor? Or start taking pictures when things are out of place?” I thought. 
 
All I wanted is for someone to believe me. I looked for answers on Reddit for over an hour, but my searches brought up nothing. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. I reached for the door handle but paused when I noticed light shifting under the door. 
 
There was something, or someone, waiting for me on the other side. 
 
Unsure of what to do, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would go away. 
 
 “Mama…I see you mama.”
 
“This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.” 
 
I held my eyes closed so tightly that my eyelids started to ache.
 
“Why are your eyes shut mama? Are we playing hide and seek?” It said in a sweet, innocent sort of way. 
 
“I don’t think I want to play with you right now,” I said. I attempted to sound confident, but my voice betrayed me.
 
“But… I want to play NOW. I’ll hide first,” the voice said in an angry growl.
 
As the shadow disappeared, I heard skittering across the hardwood floor.
 
My heart pounded so loud, it felt like each beat shook the room. Cold sweat droplets formed on my head. I felt dizzy. 
 
I needed to find Damien. I needed to know the truth. Was all of this really his fault? Surely it couldn’t be. Unless, unless that thing wasn’t my baby. Could a monster have really taken Damien and replaced him? If that was true, that meant my son was out there somewhere.
 
All alone. 
 
I had to find my baby. I needed to know the truth. 
 
Still terrified, I slowly opened the door. I knew I had to get to the nursery to see if Damien was still in his crib. That would give me the answer I was searching for. 
 
I tried to creep down the hallway, having to remind myself to breathe. I was close, I could feel it. I would finally have my answer about the voices, the toys, the baby monitor. Everything.
 
I opened the door and to my surprise, Damien was awake in his crib, just staring at the ceiling. 
 
“Thank God it’s not you.” I said, with a small sigh of relief. 
 
I’m not sure what outcome would’ve been better. On the one hand, this meant something else was responsible for all the supernatural occurrences. On the other hand, at least I still had my baby boy.
 
I stared at him, admiring my creation, my little lighthouse in this dark sea of torment.
 
That’s when I saw them. 
 
His eyes. 
 
Staring back at me were two hazel-colored eyes. 

I stared in disbelief as my hands began to shake so hard, I almost dropped the test. Two pink lines.
 
“Sam, we did it! We finally did it! We’re going to be parents!” I screamed with joy.
 
We had been trying for over six years. Six years of tears and heartbreak. Six years of seeing those around us start their own families, leaving us behind. And now, after all this time, it was finally our turn. 
 
The pregnancy was relatively easy. Minimal morning sickness, minimal weight gain, it was truly every woman’s dream. As the 9 months of anticipation and anxiety were drawing to a close, our excitement grew. We finished up all our last-minute projects, from building the crib and decorating the nursery, to packing our bags and installing the car seat in place.
 
We had taken all the classes, read all the books, and bought every single one of the little gadgets marketed to new parents.
 
We were ready to bring home our baby boy.
 
In the early hours of March 13th, Damien Michael entered the world.
 
He let out a loud cry, as if he were claiming victory over the 6-year war we had fought. Our little family was finally complete. After cleaning him off, the nurses brought our baby boy back over to us.
 
 “He’s beautiful Liz, he even has your blue eyes,” Sam said, with tears filling his own.
 
I replied, “He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.”
 
Our hearts felt so full of love, they could burst. For hours upon hours, we just stared at him in awe. We obsessed over every detail, from his cute little chunky cheeks and baby soft skin to his little fingers and toes. I marveled at this bundle of joy lying before us, sleeping without a care in the world.
 
Even though today marked the first day of our lives together, I didn’t feel like I was staring at a stranger. It felt as though we knew each other, like I had known him my whole life.
 
We quickly traded our infatuation for exhaustion. The reality of having a newborn set in quickly.
 
The first six weeks were rough. I hadn’t slept (or showered) in what felt like years. Naps were pointless. When I was actually able to rest, I would wake up feeling even more sluggish than before. Chores were neglected, filth gathered in all corners of the house. Burp cloths, dirty diapers, and take-out boxes all piled together.
 
Eventually though, we started to get the hang of this parenting thing. The mountains of dirty diapers and laundry disappeared. Entire populations of dust bunnies were decimated, and I started smelling more like cherry blossom soap and less like a sweaty cow. For a while, we had peace. 
 
It was little things at first. Some nights, the baby monitor would just show static or make weird noises like unintelligible whispers.
 
Other nights, I would open the door to his nursery, and it seemed as though the shadows fled from view, huddled together in a corner out of sight.
 
Then it escalated.
 
For a few nights in a row, toys that Damien wasn’t old enough to play with would be out of place. At first, they would just be scattered around the nursery floor. I would pick them up and hide them away, hoping to fool whatever invisible force was moving them.
 
I had no luck though. The next day, after I managed to get Damien down for a nap, I tiptoed out and quietly closed the door. I was met with an obstacle course of building blocks. Blocks that weren’t there when I entered the room.
 
The following night, at 2:00 AM, I woke up to find a stuffed teddy bear positioned upright at the end of the bed. The lifeless plastic eyes looking directly at me. “I really need whatever is going on to stop,” I sighed with exasperation. I threw a blanket over my head and prayed sleep would come to me once more.
 
I tried to explain these things away. To rationalize them in my head so that I could sleep easier at night. Maybe Sam was just trying to mess with me? Maybe I was just so sleep deprived that I was having lapses in memory?
 
I settled on the latter explanation. But much like a rubber band, it could only stretch so far before it snapped.
 
One evening, after what felt like an eternity, Damien was finally asleep.
 
Despite my desire to jump into bed and call it a day, chores still had to be done. I looked at the clock.
 
 9:46 PM.
 
“I guess Sam must be working late,” I muttered to myself.
 
 I propped up the baby monitor and started on the dishes. They felt never ending. I was trapped in a purgatory of suds and dirty dish water. Scrub, rinse, repeat. I checked the clock again, thinking surely hours must have passed. 
 
10:07 PM.
 
 “Maybe I should just head to bed and finish this up tomorrow,” I said, feeling defeated. 
 
I dried off my hands and picked up the baby monitor. That’s when I noticed that it kept on cutting to static, despite showing full bars on the screen.
 
 “This is what happens when you go for the cheapest option,” I sighed, smacking the side of the monitor.
 
 I must have broken it because then the audio went dead. I smacked it again, hoping for a better result and when the audio came back to life, it began to emit an eerie lullaby.
 
“That’s weird, I know I didn’t turn on the sound machine.”
 
 Trying to brush off the feeling of unease, I turned the kitchen light off as I headed towards the hallway. 
 
I didn’t even make it 3 steps before the light flicked back on.
 
Then off.
 
On. Off. On. Off.
 
Before I could decide what to do, the living room light started to do the same thing. On. Off. On. Off. Every single light in the house soon joined in on this cruel joke. On. Off. On. Off. POP! I tried flicking them back on. No luck.
 
“Hello?”
 
 Nothing. I was entirely alone.
 
I tried to carefully make it out of the kitchen, using the light from the baby monitor to guide my way.
 
 “Hello? Hello?”
 
 I stopped in my tracks.
 
The voice was coming from the monitor.
 
The voice that replied was my own.
 
Slowly, I turned the monitor over, hands shaking. 
 
There he was.
 
 Damien, the baby who could barely hold up his head, was holding onto the wooden slats of the crib. He looked directly into the camera.
 
Directly into my soul.
 
Frightened, I dropped the monitor onto the ground, sending the house into darkness. The sound echoed down the hallway, followed by cries not long after. When I picked it up, he was laying in bed as though nothing had happened.
 
 “I desperately need to sleep.”
 
I entered the nursery and scooped him up out of bed, heart still racing from earlier events. I sat in the rocking chair and looked around.
 
Nothing was out of the ordinary. The sound machine off, night light on, no mysteriously placed toys.
 
“You need to get a grip Liz. You’re a mother now. You must be brave.”
 
 I tried to calm myself as we rocked back and forth. I pulled Damien close and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay baby, mama’s here. You’re safe.”
 
We rocked some more in peace and quiet, both of us fighting off sleep. Breaking the silence, something whispered:
 
 “But you aren’t.”
 
My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe.
 
The voice was coming from the bundle in my arms.

I stared in disbelief as my hands began to shake so hard, I almost dropped the test. Two pink lines.
 
“Sam, we did it! We finally did it! We’re going to be parents!” I screamed with joy.
 
We had been trying for over six years. Six years of tears and heartbreak. Six years of seeing those around us start their own families, leaving us behind. And now, after all this time, it was finally our turn. 
 
The pregnancy was relatively easy. Minimal morning sickness, minimal weight gain, it was truly every woman’s dream. As the 9 months of anticipation and anxiety were drawing to a close, our excitement grew. We finished up all our last-minute projects, from building the crib and decorating the nursery, to packing our bags and installing the car seat in place.
 
We had taken all the classes, read all the books, and bought every single one of the little gadgets marketed to new parents.
 
We were ready to bring home our baby boy.
 
In the early hours of March 13th, Damien Michael entered the world.
 
He let out a loud cry, as if he were claiming victory over the 6-year war we had fought. Our little family was finally complete. After cleaning him off, the nurses brought our baby boy back over to us.
 
 “He’s beautiful Liz, he even has your blue eyes,” Sam said, with tears filling his own.
 
I replied, “He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.”
 
Our hearts felt so full of love, they could burst. For hours upon hours, we just stared at him in awe. We obsessed over every detail, from his cute little chunky cheeks and baby soft skin to his little fingers and toes. I marveled at this bundle of joy lying before us, sleeping without a care in the world.
 
Even though today marked the first day of our lives together, I didn’t feel like I was staring at a stranger. It felt as though we knew each other, like I had known him my whole life.
 
We quickly traded our infatuation for exhaustion. The reality of having a newborn set in quickly.
 
The first six weeks were rough. I hadn’t slept (or showered) in what felt like years. Naps were pointless. When I was actually able to rest, I would wake up feeling even more sluggish than before. Chores were neglected, filth gathered in all corners of the house. Burp cloths, dirty diapers, and take-out boxes all piled together.
 
Eventually though, we started to get the hang of this parenting thing. The mountains of dirty diapers and laundry disappeared. Entire populations of dust bunnies were decimated, and I started smelling more like cherry blossom soap and less like a sweaty cow. For a while, we had peace. 
 
It was little things at first. Some nights, the baby monitor would just show static or make weird noises like unintelligible whispers.
 
Other nights, I would open the door to his nursery, and it seemed as though the shadows fled from view, huddled together in a corner out of sight.
 
Then it escalated.
 
For a few nights in a row, toys that Damien wasn’t old enough to play with would be out of place. At first, they would just be scattered around the nursery floor. I would pick them up and hide them away, hoping to fool whatever invisible force was moving them.
 
I had no luck though. The next day, after I managed to get Damien down for a nap, I tiptoed out and quietly closed the door. I was met with an obstacle course of building blocks. Blocks that weren’t there when I entered the room.
 
The following night, at 2:00 AM, I woke up to find a stuffed teddy bear positioned upright at the end of the bed. The lifeless plastic eyes looking directly at me. “I really need whatever is going on to stop,” I sighed with exasperation. I threw a blanket over my head and prayed sleep would come to me once more.
 
I tried to explain these things away. To rationalize them in my head so that I could sleep easier at night. Maybe Sam was just trying to mess with me? Maybe I was just so sleep deprived that I was having lapses in memory?
 
I settled on the latter explanation. But much like a rubber band, it could only stretch so far before it snapped.
 
One evening, after what felt like an eternity, Damien was finally asleep.
 
Despite my desire to jump into bed and call it a day, chores still had to be done. I looked at the clock.
 
 9:46 PM.
 
“I guess Sam must be working late,” I muttered to myself.
 
 I propped up the baby monitor and started on the dishes. They felt never ending. I was trapped in a purgatory of suds and dirty dish water. Scrub, rinse, repeat. I checked the clock again, thinking surely hours must have passed. 
 
10:07 PM.
 
 “Maybe I should just head to bed and finish this up tomorrow,” I said, feeling defeated. 
 
I dried off my hands and picked up the baby monitor. That’s when I noticed that it kept on cutting to static, despite showing full bars on the screen.
 
 “This is what happens when you go for the cheapest option,” I sighed, smacking the side of the monitor.
 
 I must have broken it because then the audio went dead. I smacked it again, hoping for a better result and when the audio came back to life, it began to emit an eerie lullaby.
 
“That’s weird, I know I didn’t turn on the sound machine.”
 
 Trying to brush off the feeling of unease, I turned the kitchen light off as I headed towards the hallway. 
 
I didn’t even make it 3 steps before the light flicked back on.
 
Then off.
 
On. Off. On. Off.
 
Before I could decide what to do, the living room light started to do the same thing. On. Off. On. Off. Every single light in the house soon joined in on this cruel joke. On. Off. On. Off. POP! I tried flicking them back on. No luck.
 
“Hello?”
 
 Nothing. I was entirely alone.
 
I tried to carefully make it out of the kitchen, using the light from the baby monitor to guide my way.
 
 “Hello? Hello?”
 
 I stopped in my tracks.
 
The voice was coming from the monitor.
 
The voice that replied was my own.
 
Slowly, I turned the monitor over, hands shaking. 
 
There he was.
 
 Damien, the baby who could barely hold up his head, was holding onto the wooden slats of the crib. He looked directly into the camera.
 
Directly into my soul.
 
Frightened, I dropped the monitor onto the ground, sending the house into darkness. The sound echoed down the hallway, followed by cries not long after. When I picked it up, he was laying in bed as though nothing had happened.
 
 “I desperately need to sleep.”
 
I entered the nursery and scooped him up out of bed, heart still racing from earlier events. I sat in the rocking chair and looked around.
 
Nothing was out of the ordinary. The sound machine off, night light on, no mysteriously placed toys.
 
“You need to get a grip Liz. You’re a mother now. You must be brave.”
 
 I tried to calm myself as we rocked back and forth. I pulled Damien close and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay baby, mama’s here. You’re safe.”
 
We rocked some more in peace and quiet, both of us fighting off sleep. Breaking the silence, something whispered:
 
 “But you aren’t.”
 
My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe.
 
The voice was coming from the bundle in my arms.

I stared in disbelief as my hands began to shake so hard, I almost dropped the test. Two pink lines.
 
“Sam, we did it! We finally did it! We’re going to be parents!” I screamed with joy.
 
We had been trying for over six years. Six years of tears and heartbreak. Six years of seeing those around us start their own families, leaving us behind. And now, after all this time, it was finally our turn. 
 
The pregnancy was relatively easy. Minimal morning sickness, minimal weight gain, it was truly every woman’s dream. As the 9 months of anticipation and anxiety were drawing to a close, our excitement grew. We finished up all our last-minute projects, from building the crib and decorating the nursery, to packing our bags and installing the car seat in place.
 
We had taken all the classes, read all the books, and bought every single one of the little gadgets marketed to new parents.
 
We were ready to bring home our baby boy.
 
In the early hours of March 13th, Damien Michael entered the world.
 
He let out a loud cry, as if he were claiming victory over the 6-year war we had fought. Our little family was finally complete. After cleaning him off, the nurses brought our baby boy back over to us.
 
 “He’s beautiful Liz, he even has your blue eyes,” Sam said, with tears filling his own.
 
I replied, “He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.”
 
Our hearts felt so full of love, they could burst. For hours upon hours, we just stared at him in awe. We obsessed over every detail, from his cute little chunky cheeks and baby soft skin to his little fingers and toes. I marveled at this bundle of joy lying before us, sleeping without a care in the world.
 
Even though today marked the first day of our lives together, I didn’t feel like I was staring at a stranger. It felt as though we knew each other, like I had known him my whole life.
 
We quickly traded our infatuation for exhaustion. The reality of having a newborn set in quickly.
 
The first six weeks were rough. I hadn’t slept (or showered) in what felt like years. Naps were pointless. When I was actually able to rest, I would wake up feeling even more sluggish than before. Chores were neglected, filth gathered in all corners of the house. Burp cloths, dirty diapers, and take-out boxes all piled together.
 
Eventually though, we started to get the hang of this parenting thing. The mountains of dirty diapers and laundry disappeared. Entire populations of dust bunnies were decimated, and I started smelling more like cherry blossom soap and less like a sweaty cow. For a while, we had peace. 
 
It was little things at first. Some nights, the baby monitor would just show static or make weird noises like unintelligible whispers.
 
Other nights, I would open the door to his nursery, and it seemed as though the shadows fled from view, huddled together in a corner out of sight.
 
Then it escalated.
 
For a few nights in a row, toys that Damien wasn’t old enough to play with would be out of place. At first, they would just be scattered around the nursery floor. I would pick them up and hide them away, hoping to fool whatever invisible force was moving them.
 
I had no luck though. The next day, after I managed to get Damien down for a nap, I tiptoed out and quietly closed the door. I was met with an obstacle course of building blocks. Blocks that weren’t there when I entered the room.
 
The following night, at 2:00 AM, I woke up to find a stuffed teddy bear positioned upright at the end of the bed. The lifeless plastic eyes looking directly at me. “I really need whatever is going on to stop,” I sighed with exasperation. I threw a blanket over my head and prayed sleep would come to me once more.
 
I tried to explain these things away. To rationalize them in my head so that I could sleep easier at night. Maybe Sam was just trying to mess with me? Maybe I was just so sleep deprived that I was having lapses in memory?
 
I settled on the latter explanation. But much like a rubber band, it could only stretch so far before it snapped.
 
One evening, after what felt like an eternity, Damien was finally asleep.
 
Despite my desire to jump into bed and call it a day, chores still had to be done. I looked at the clock.
 
 9:46 PM.
 
“I guess Sam must be working late,” I muttered to myself.
 
 I propped up the baby monitor and started on the dishes. They felt never ending. I was trapped in a purgatory of suds and dirty dish water. Scrub, rinse, repeat. I checked the clock again, thinking surely hours must have passed. 
 
10:07 PM.
 
 “Maybe I should just head to bed and finish this up tomorrow,” I said, feeling defeated. 
 
I dried off my hands and picked up the baby monitor. That’s when I noticed that it kept on cutting to static, despite showing full bars on the screen.
 
 “This is what happens when you go for the cheapest option,” I sighed, smacking the side of the monitor.
 
 I must have broken it because then the audio went dead. I smacked it again, hoping for a better result and when the audio came back to life, it began to emit an eerie lullaby.
 
“That’s weird, I know I didn’t turn on the sound machine.”
 
 Trying to brush off the feeling of unease, I turned the kitchen light off as I headed towards the hallway. 
 
I didn’t even make it 3 steps before the light flicked back on.
 
Then off.
 
On. Off. On. Off.
 
Before I could decide what to do, the living room light started to do the same thing. On. Off. On. Off. Every single light in the house soon joined in on this cruel joke. On. Off. On. Off. POP! I tried flicking them back on. No luck.
 
“Hello?”
 
 Nothing. I was entirely alone.
 
I tried to carefully make it out of the kitchen, using the light from the baby monitor to guide my way.
 
 “Hello? Hello?”
 
 I stopped in my tracks.
 
The voice was coming from the monitor.
 
The voice that replied was my own.
 
Slowly, I turned the monitor over, hands shaking. 
 
There he was.
 
 Damien, the baby who could barely hold up his head, was holding onto the wooden slats of the crib. He looked directly into the camera.
 
Directly into my soul.
 
Frightened, I dropped the monitor onto the ground, sending the house into darkness. The sound echoed down the hallway, followed by cries not long after. When I picked it up, he was laying in bed as though nothing had happened.
 
 “I desperately need to sleep.”
 
I entered the nursery and scooped him up out of bed, heart still racing from earlier events. I sat in the rocking chair and looked around.
 
Nothing was out of the ordinary. The sound machine off, night light on, no mysteriously placed toys.
 
“You need to get a grip Liz. You’re a mother now. You must be brave.”
 
 I tried to calm myself as we rocked back and forth. I pulled Damien close and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay baby, mama’s here. You’re safe.”
 
We rocked some more in peace and quiet, both of us fighting off sleep. Breaking the silence, something whispered:
 
 “But you aren’t.”
 
My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe.
 
The voice was coming from the bundle in my arms.

I stared in disbelief as my hands began to shake so hard, I almost dropped the test. Two pink lines.
 
“Sam, we did it! We finally did it! We’re going to be parents!” I screamed with joy.
 
We had been trying for over six years. Six years of tears and heartbreak. Six years of seeing those around us start their own families, leaving us behind. And now, after all this time, it was finally our turn. 
 
The pregnancy was relatively easy. Minimal morning sickness, minimal weight gain, it was truly every woman’s dream. As the 9 months of anticipation and anxiety were drawing to a close, our excitement grew. We finished up all our last-minute projects, from building the crib and decorating the nursery, to packing our bags and installing the car seat in place.
 
We had taken all the classes, read all the books, and bought every single one of the little gadgets marketed to new parents.
 
We were ready to bring home our baby boy.
 
In the early hours of March 13th, Damien Michael entered the world.
 
He let out a loud cry, as if he were claiming victory over the 6-year war we had fought. Our little family was finally complete. After cleaning him off, the nurses brought our baby boy back over to us.
 
 “He’s beautiful Liz, he even has your blue eyes,” Sam said, with tears filling his own.
 
I replied, “He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.”
 
Our hearts felt so full of love, they could burst. For hours upon hours, we just stared at him in awe. We obsessed over every detail, from his cute little chunky cheeks and baby soft skin to his little fingers and toes. I marveled at this bundle of joy lying before us, sleeping without a care in the world.
 
Even though today marked the first day of our lives together, I didn’t feel like I was staring at a stranger. It felt as though we knew each other, like I had known him my whole life.
 
We quickly traded our infatuation for exhaustion. The reality of having a newborn set in quickly.
 
The first six weeks were rough. I hadn’t slept (or showered) in what felt like years. Naps were pointless. When I was actually able to rest, I would wake up feeling even more sluggish than before. Chores were neglected, filth gathered in all corners of the house. Burp cloths, dirty diapers, and take-out boxes all piled together.
 
Eventually though, we started to get the hang of this parenting thing. The mountains of dirty diapers and laundry disappeared. Entire populations of dust bunnies were decimated, and I started smelling more like cherry blossom soap and less like a sweaty cow. For a while, we had peace. 
 
It was little things at first. Some nights, the baby monitor would just show static or make weird noises like unintelligible whispers.
 
Other nights, I would open the door to his nursery, and it seemed as though the shadows fled from view, huddled together in a corner out of sight.
 
Then it escalated.
 
For a few nights in a row, toys that Damien wasn’t old enough to play with would be out of place. At first, they would just be scattered around the nursery floor. I would pick them up and hide them away, hoping to fool whatever invisible force was moving them.
 
I had no luck though. The next day, after I managed to get Damien down for a nap, I tiptoed out and quietly closed the door. I was met with an obstacle course of building blocks. Blocks that weren’t there when I entered the room.
 
The following night, at 2:00 AM, I woke up to find a stuffed teddy bear positioned upright at the end of the bed. The lifeless plastic eyes looking directly at me. “I really need whatever is going on to stop,” I sighed with exasperation. I threw a blanket over my head and prayed sleep would come to me once more.
 
I tried to explain these things away. To rationalize them in my head so that I could sleep easier at night. Maybe Sam was just trying to mess with me? Maybe I was just so sleep deprived that I was having lapses in memory?
 
I settled on the latter explanation. But much like a rubber band, it could only stretch so far before it snapped.
 
One evening, after what felt like an eternity, Damien was finally asleep.
 
Despite my desire to jump into bed and call it a day, chores still had to be done. I looked at the clock.
 
 9:46 PM.
 
“I guess Sam must be working late,” I muttered to myself.
 
 I propped up the baby monitor and started on the dishes. They felt never ending. I was trapped in a purgatory of suds and dirty dish water. Scrub, rinse, repeat. I checked the clock again, thinking surely hours must have passed. 
 
10:07 PM.
 
 “Maybe I should just head to bed and finish this up tomorrow,” I said, feeling defeated. 
 
I dried off my hands and picked up the baby monitor. That’s when I noticed that it kept on cutting to static, despite showing full bars on the screen.
 
 “This is what happens when you go for the cheapest option,” I sighed, smacking the side of the monitor.
 
 I must have broken it because then the audio went dead. I smacked it again, hoping for a better result and when the audio came back to life, it began to emit an eerie lullaby.
 
“That’s weird, I know I didn’t turn on the sound machine.”
 
 Trying to brush off the feeling of unease, I turned the kitchen light off as I headed towards the hallway. 
 
I didn’t even make it 3 steps before the light flicked back on.
 
Then off.
 
On. Off. On. Off.
 
Before I could decide what to do, the living room light started to do the same thing. On. Off. On. Off. Every single light in the house soon joined in on this cruel joke. On. Off. On. Off. POP! I tried flicking them back on. No luck.
 
“Hello?”
 
 Nothing. I was entirely alone.
 
I tried to carefully make it out of the kitchen, using the light from the baby monitor to guide my way.
 
 “Hello? Hello?”
 
 I stopped in my tracks.
 
“Why is my voice coming from the nursery?“ I whispered to myself.
 
Slowly, I turned the monitor over, hands shaking. 
 
There he was.
 
 Damien, the baby who could barely hold up his head, was holding onto the wooden slats of the crib. He looked directly into the camera.
 
Directly into my soul.
 
Frightened, I dropped the monitor onto the ground, sending the house into darkness. The sound echoed down the hallway, followed by cries not long after. When I picked it up, he was laying in bed as though nothing had happened.
 
 “I desperately need to sleep.”
 
I entered the nursery and scooped him up out of bed, heart still racing from earlier events. I sat in the rocking chair and looked around.
 
Nothing was out of the ordinary. The sound machine off, night light on, no mysteriously placed toys.
 
“You need to get a grip Liz. You’re a mother now. You must be brave.”
 
 I tried to calm myself as we rocked back and forth. I pulled Damien close and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay baby, mama’s here. You’re safe.”
 
We rocked some more in peace and quiet, both of us fighting off sleep. Breaking the silence, something whispered:
 
 “But you aren’t.”
 
My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe.
 
The voice was coming from the bundle in my arms.  

I stared in disbelief as my hands began to shake so hard, I almost dropped the test. Two pink lines.
 
“Sam, we did it! We finally did it! We’re going to be parents!” I screamed with joy.
 
We had been trying for over six years. Six years of tears and heartbreak. Six years of seeing those around us start their own families, leaving us behind. And now, after all this time, it was finally our turn. 
 
The pregnancy was relatively easy. Minimal morning sickness, minimal weight gain, it was truly every woman’s dream. As the 9 months of anticipation and anxiety were drawing to a close, our excitement grew. We finished up all our last-minute projects, from building the crib and decorating the nursery, to packing our bags and installing the car seat in place.
 
We had taken all the classes, read all the books, and bought every single one of the little gadgets marketed to new parents.
 
We were ready to bring home our baby boy.
 
In the early hours of March 13th, Damien Michael entered the world.
 
He let out a loud cry, as if he were claiming victory over the 6-year war we had fought. Our little family was finally complete. After cleaning him off, the nurses brought our baby boy back over to us.
 
 “He’s beautiful Liz, he even has your blue eyes,” Sam said, with tears filling his own.
 
I replied, “He’s perfect, absolutely perfect.”
 
Our hearts felt so full of love, they could burst. For hours upon hours, we just stared at him in awe. We obsessed over every detail, from his cute little chunky cheeks and baby soft skin to his little fingers and toes. I marveled at this bundle of joy lying before us, sleeping without a care in the world.
 
Even though today marked the first day of our lives together, I didn’t feel like I was staring at a stranger. It felt as though we knew each other, like I had known him my whole life.
 
We quickly traded our infatuation for exhaustion. The reality of having a newborn set in quickly.
 
The first six weeks were rough. I hadn’t slept (or showered) in what felt like years. Naps were pointless. When I was actually able to rest, I would wake up feeling even more sluggish than before. Chores were neglected, filth gathered in all corners of the house. Burp cloths, dirty diapers, and take-out boxes all piled together.
 
Eventually though, we started to get the hang of this parenting thing. The mountains of dirty diapers and laundry disappeared. Entire populations of dust bunnies were decimated, and I started smelling more like cherry blossom soap and less like a sweaty cow. For a while, we had peace. 
 
It was little things at first. Some nights, the baby monitor would just show static or make weird noises like unintelligible whispers.
 
Other nights, I would open the door to his nursery, and it seemed as though the shadows fled from view, huddled together in a corner out of sight.
 
Then it escalated.
 
For a few nights in a row, toys that Damien wasn’t old enough to play with would be out of place. At first, they would just be scattered around the nursery floor. I would pick them up and hide them away, hoping to fool whatever invisible force was moving them.
 
I had no luck though. The next day, after I managed to get Damien down for a nap, I tiptoed out and quietly closed the door. I was met with an obstacle course of building blocks. Blocks that weren’t there when I entered the room.
 
The following night, at 2:00 AM, I woke up to find a stuffed teddy bear positioned upright at the end of the bed. The lifeless plastic eyes looking directly at me. “I really need whatever is going on to stop,” I sighed with exasperation. I threw a blanket over my head and prayed sleep would come to me once more.
 
I tried to explain these things away. To rationalize them in my head so that I could sleep easier at night. Maybe Sam was just trying to mess with me? Maybe I was just so sleep deprived that I was having lapses in memory?
 
I settled on the latter explanation. But much like a rubber band, it could only stretch so far before it snapped.
 
One evening, after what felt like an eternity, Damien was finally asleep.
 
Despite my desire to jump into bed and call it a day, chores still had to be done. I looked at the clock.
 
 9:46 PM.
 
“I guess Sam must be working late,” I muttered to myself.
 
 I propped up the baby monitor and started on the dishes. They felt never ending. I was trapped in a purgatory of suds and dirty dish water. Scrub, rinse, repeat. I checked the clock again, thinking surely hours must have passed. 
 
10:07 PM.
 
 “Maybe I should just head to bed and finish this up tomorrow,” I said, feeling defeated. 
 
I dried off my hands and picked up the baby monitor. That’s when I noticed that it kept on cutting to static, despite showing full bars on the screen.
 
 “This is what happens when you go for the cheapest option,” I sighed, smacking the side of the monitor.
 
 I must have broken it because then the audio went dead. I smacked it again, hoping for a better result and when the audio came back to life, it began to emit an eerie lullaby.
 
“That’s weird, I know I didn’t turn on the sound machine.”
 
 Trying to brush off the feeling of unease, I turned the kitchen light off as I headed towards the hallway. 
 
I didn’t even make it 3 steps before the light flicked back on.
 
Then off.
 
On. Off. On. Off.
 
Before I could decide what to do, the living room light started to do the same thing. On. Off. On. Off. Every single light in the house soon joined in on this cruel joke. On. Off. On. Off. POP! I tried flicking them back on. No luck.
 
“Hello?”
 
 Nothing. I was entirely alone.
 
I tried to carefully make it out of the kitchen, using the light from the baby monitor to guide my way.
 
 “Hello? Hello?”
 
 I stopped in my tracks.
 
The voice was coming from the monitor.
 
The voice that replied was my own.
 
Slowly, I turned the monitor over, hands shaking. 
 
There he was.
 
Damien, the baby who could barely hold up his head, was holding onto the wooden slats of the crib. He looked directly into the camera.
 
Directly into my soul.
 
Frightened, I dropped the monitor onto the ground, sending the house into darkness. The sound echoed down the hallway, followed by cries not long after. When I picked it up, he was laying in bed as though nothing had happened.
 
 “I desperately need to sleep.”
 
I entered the nursery and scooped him up out of bed, heart still racing from earlier events. I sat in the rocking chair and looked around.
 
Nothing was out of the ordinary. The sound machine off, night light on, no mysteriously placed toys.
 
“You need to get a grip Liz. You’re a mother now. You must be brave.”
 
I tried to calm myself as we rocked back and forth. I pulled Damien close and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay baby, mama’s here. You’re safe.”
 
We rocked some more in peace and quiet, both of us fighting off sleep. Breaking the silence, something whispered:
 
“But you aren’t.”
 
My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe.
 
The voice was coming from the bundle in my arms.