I woke at 3 a.m. for water and heard my son’s voice from his room: “Mom, can you turn off the light?” Without thinking, I flicked the switch, but as I slipped back into bed, dread hit me—my son wasn’t home; he was camping with friends. Heart pounding, I rushed to his room. It was empty, the air cold and still. I stood there, trembling, when the voice whispered again, “Thanks, Mom,” from the corner where his bed sat. My blood froze. I flipped the light back on, but nothing was there—just his untouched room. My husband thinks I’m crazy, but I haven’t slept since that night, terrified of what I’ll hear next.
