At 1:00 a.m., my neighbor called screaming, ‘Don’t open the door—no matter what you hear,’ then the line went dead. Seconds later, someone began smashing my front door hard enough to shake the walls… and when I finally looked through the peephole, my son’s face was pressed against the glass—but the eyes staring back at me were not my son’s.
At one o’clock in the morning, my phone rang so sharply that I woke with my hand already pressed against my chest. For a few seconds, I did not know where I was. The house was dark. The furnace had gone quiet. The old maple tree outside my bedroom window scratched softly against the siding,…
