"I'm home," I lazily call to my likely empty house. From the outside, it looks picture perfect. Two-story home on a big green lawn, glass walls that see the teakwood floors and polished furniture. The rooms are big and open and the staircase in the home is a grand spiral. One thing you won't see in this ornate house is a mom. "But if you care then you'd be here too."

My mom claims that her business, SecuriTech, dominates all her time. They cover alarm systems, camera installations, trip sirens...Makai loves this stuff. His dad taughthim everything about the company that he knew, and then Makai learned even more. On more than one occasion, he ran into trouble with the law. At first, his parents were pissed...I mean, hysterical. But he never did anything to directly harm someone, so his father became proud of his learnings while his mother continually disapproved. 

I check my phone for the time: 10:00 PM. My mom should be home within the next 30minutes.

 I dash up the stairs that lead into a skinny hallway. The lights are on. The lights are never on. All the lights get turned off beside the outdoor lights by the front door. "Mom?"Now, my voice sounds tiny and frill. "Answer me. Don't freak me out..." With the mysterious notes in Reyna's room and the disappearance of my friends, now isn't the time for sick jokes.

I creep down the hallway. The very last one is my mom's room. Every door is cracked open the same amount as if someone meticulously did so. My feet make small sounds against the creaking wood, which now sounds like small children crying. 

 Suddenly, all the lights turn off and I'm in a house with glass walls where I can't see anything. I go to turn my phone flashlight on when it rings, tone shill and eardrum-shattering. "Gah!" I shriek and drop my phone, which lands screen-down on the floor. I bend down and feel around for it. Grabbing it, I turn it over and see who has decided to call me.

PHONE CALL FROM: UNKNOWN CALLER

I answer it, dying to have someone to talk to as I tiptoe across the hall in the unnerving silence. "Hello?" 

 "Hi, Della," an automated voice responds. "What're you doing up so late?" 

 I take a few steps past the storage closet on the right. After the closet, there's a ledge that overlooks the living room, where a single lamp has been turned on. Obviously, it wasn't before. "It's not like I have a curfew..." Is my mom messing with me? Was she home early and is making me pay for not being here to spend time with her? "...if bedtime is so important to you, shouldn't you be asleep?"

 "No, I'm too busy making sure you get across the hallway safely."

I stop short and whirl around. I take a 360 of my surroundings, and then a sweep over2/2the living room. My eyes fall on the storage closet door. "Who is this?" I question, crawling towards the door. My shaking fingers close around the knob and twist. But they don't open the door. What if someone is in there? What if someone isn't? 

I tell myself to suck it up and just do it. I hold my breath, clutch the knob with extreme force, and whip the door open. Tentatively, I reach inside for the string the turns the light on and give it a tug. The light blinds me for a moment, but at least the closet is empty.

 "You're cold," the voice says.

 "Who. Is. This?" I repeat through gritted teeth, handshaking. I turn around to the door behind me and open it, reaching for the light switch and flipping it on. Empty. 

 "Warmer..."

I walk to the next door. Something inside makes noise – a small shuffling. My body vibrates with nervousness I've never felt before. I turn the knob and feel something wet on my cheek. Tears. With a grunt, I thrust the door open and peek inside. Empty. Shakily, I let out a breath.

 "Warmer, Della. Keep going."

"I'm not opening another goddamn door until you tell me who you are," I spit.

 There's a pause as if the voice is thinking. Or maybe they're just building up suspense. It's not like there isn't enough of that already. 

 "Why don't you ask your mother?" the voice ferociously retorts before hanging up.

 "Mom," I breathe. I put the phone away and march down the hall, forcing out all fear of the all-knowing stranger. I charge through her door and reach for the light just above her bookshelf. I knock something off and it rolls between my feet. Warm liquid spills over my feet and I assume Mom left an empty water bottle on the top. Finally, my fingers find the switch and turn the light on.

I let out a scream that doesn't seem like it belongs to me. I don't remember the instinct that triggered my scream or how long it lasted or how it sounded. I just know that I didn't seem connected to it. Part of me is terrified at my mother's decapitated head rolling between my feet and staring up at me. Part of me is in a deep depression at my mother's death, while the opposite part of that counters it with solace, considering she never cared for me. Another part of me is full of questions: how come the alarm never went off when someone intruded? Who is in here? Have they gone?

My mother's body lies in a pool of blood on the bed, and next to her, there's a thank you note. A simple, folded, small card that could pass as a yellow, lineless, folded index card. 

It was nice talking to you. Get some rest.