Someone on the Bed

The baby monitor crackled to life at 2:17 a.m. “Daddy,” my daughter whispered,

“there’s someone under my bed.” I rushed down the hall, heart pounding,

and flipped on her light. The room was empty. No shadows. No movement.

I knelt and looked under the bed to reassure her. That’s when I saw her—curled up against

the wall, eyes wide with terror—staring past me and whispering, “Daddy… there’s someone on my bed.”