When Lara's six-year-old son calls her in the middle of the day, whispering that he's afraid, she races home, only to find their babysitter unconscious and her past clawing its way back. As panic rises, Lara must confront the one memory she's tried to bury: the day she and Ben found his father dead.
You don't expect your world to tilt at 2:25 P.M. on a Friday afternoon. You expect emails. Maybe a vending machine coffee. But not your six-year-old son's voice, whispering fear into your ear like it's the only thing holding him together.
I'm Lara, 30, a single mom trying to keep it all together, full-time job, full-time chaos, like I'm carrying a tray of glass that's always on the verge of tipping.
A woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
My son, Ben, is the center of my entire universe. He's the kind of boy who doesn't just feel his own emotions, he absorbs everyone else's too. He's soft-hearted, wide-eyed, and the type to bring home worms in his pockets because he didn't want them to be lonely in the rain.
Ruby, our babysitter, is 21. She's gentle, with a kind of calm that made Ben feel safe instantly.
A side profile of a little boy | Source: Midjourney
She'd become a part of our rhythm. She was careful with him. Attentive. Generous. Loving beyond anything. She even remembered which dinosaur phase he was in. Right now it was Allosaurus.
Ruby was my go-to. If anything came up with work, Ruby was the first person I'd call. I had no reason to doubt her.
Until Friday.
A smiling young woman | Source: Midjourney
No Caller ID. A missed call. Then another.
I was reaching for my coffee when my phone lit up again, and something made me answer.
"Mommy?" Ben's voice was so faint I barely caught it.
My whole body went rigid.
A cup of coffee on a desk | Source: Midjourney
"Ben? What's wrong?"
There was breathing. And something else. Silence, stretched too long.
"I'm afraid," he whispered. His voice cracked in the middle like something had split inside him.
"Where's Ruby, baby? What's she doing?"
"I don't know... she was standing, and then... she wasn't."
A scared little boy | Source: Midjourney
My heart plummeted and my hands shook. I put the call on speaker.
"What do you mean? Is she hurt?"
"I think so. She fell. I tried to help but she won't wake up."
Oh, good Lord.
"Where are you right now, baby?"
A concerned woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
Silence.
I tried again, louder, completely forgetting that he'd said he was in a closet. Panic crawled up my throat.
Then I heard it. Faint. Croaking.
"In the closet..."
I found him curled up in the hallway closet, hugging his stuffed dinosaur like it was the only solid thing left. His knees were pulled to his chest. His little fingers trembled. I dropped to the floor and wrapped him in my arms.
"Ben, stay where you are. I'm coming right now, okay? You're not alone. Just hold on."
I didn't log off. I didn't tell my boss. I just grabbed my bag and ran. Every light turned red. Every second stretched too long. I drove like I could bend time if I pushed the gas hard enough.
A woman driving a car | Source: Midjourney
When I pulled into our street, everything looked... still.
Door locked. Curtains drawn, which wasn't new. It's what Ruby and Ben did when they wanted to watch something.
For a moment, the world felt... different.
I burst through the front door.
"Ben?! It's Mommy!"
A stuffed dinosaur toy | Source: Midjourney
"I didn't know what to do," he said, voice muffled in my shoulder. "I tried to help her."
"You did everything right," I whispered, brushing his hair back, trying not to fall apart.
He smelled like sweat and fear and that earthy little-boy scent that always reminded me of playdough and crayons. His body was shaking. But he hadn't cried.
Not then. Not yet.
A close up of a little boy | Source: Midjourney
"Where is she, baby?"
He pointed me toward the living room. And everything in me shifted.
I stood, heart pounding in my throat, and moved slowly, like one wrong step might wake a nightmare.
Then I saw her.
Ruby.
A woman laying on a carpet | Source: Midjourney
Why hadn't I called for an ambulance? In my rush to get home to Ben, I had completely forgotten about that. Now, I felt useless.
She was collapsed on her side, one arm twisted beneath her, the other flopped against the carpet like it didn't belong to her. Her eyes were shut, but her mouth was slightly open, like she'd been trying to say something.
A dark stain spread out from a shattered glass of water. Next to her head, a folded pillow.
A colored ice pack on a carpet | Source: Midjourney
And on her forehead, Ben's doing, a cold pack from the freezer, the one I used for bruised knees and bumped elbows.
The scene felt wrong, too quiet, like a photograph left in the sun too long. It was flat. Surreal.
I rushed to her side. Pressed my fingers to her neck. There was a pulse.
"Thank God," I muttered.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
Ruby was all shallow breathing, her skin clammy. She was alive, but barely responsive. Her lashes fluttered once, then went still.
Ben had seen this. He'd watched her collapse. Maybe he thought that she'd died.
And in that moment, I felt something crack open in me.
Because I wasn't just terrified for Ruby. I was gutted for him.
A scared little boy | Source: Midjourney
My boy, only six years old, had tried to wake her, had run to get the cold pack, had spilled the water trying to help. He must've dragged a chair to the junk drawer, to where the old phone was. Searched through cords and broken pens. And when nothing else worked, he'd called me.
Then waited. Alone. In a closet.
Because he didn't know if she'd wake up. Because he was too scared to be in the same room but couldn't leave her either.
That's not something a child should ever carry.
A junk drawer in a home | Source: Midjourney
And suddenly I wasn't in the living room anymore. I was two years back.
Bananas, milk, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and other random groceries in the trunk. Ben had insisted on the dinosaur-shaped pasta, and I'd caved.
We were laughing as we carried the bags up the porch. Ben, holding a baguette and pretending to slash the air with it.
Dinosaur-shaped pasta | Source: Midjourney
"I'll fight bad guys with this bread, Momma," he said.
I remember the way the sky looked that day, cloudless, too blue. I remember unlocking the door, calling his name. I remember the stillness.
It was too quiet.
And then we found him.
A little boy holding a baguette | Source: Midjourney
Richard.
Lying on the bed like he'd just decided to take a nap. Only he wasn't breathing. And there was something about the way his mouth hung open, about how his hand dangled off the edge of the bed, loose and wrong and lifeless.
Ben asked why Daddy wasn't waking up. I didn't answer. I couldn't. My knees had given out before I could reach the phone.
A heart attack. Sudden. Massive.
A man laying in his bed | Source: Midjourney
They told me later he wouldn't have felt a thing. But I did.
And now, staring at Ruby's still body, the room spun. My throat closed. The edges of my vision curled like burning paper. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear Ben's breathing behind me.
Not again. Not again...
A concerned woman sitting in a living room | Source: Midjourney
The smell of spilled water mixed with the sharp metallic edge of panic, and I tasted bile at the back of my throat. My hands were shaking. I could feel it, that old terror bubbling back up, fast and hot and thick.
My baby had already found one body. He couldn't find another.
I swallowed the scream clawing its way up my throat, blinked hard, and forced my hands to move.
Call. Now.
A
A stuffed dinosaur toy | Source: Midjourney
"I didn't know what to do," he said, voice muffled in my shoulder. "I tried to help her."
"You did everything right," I whispered, brushing his hair back, trying not to fall apart.
He smelled like sweat and fear and that earthy little-boy scent that always reminded me of playdough and crayons. His body was shaking. But he hadn't cried.
Not then. Not yet.
A close up of a little boy | Source: Midjourney
"Where is she, baby?"
He pointed me toward the living room. And everything in me shifted.
I stood, heart pounding in my throat, and moved slowly, like one wrong step might wake a nightmare.
Then I saw her.
Ruby.
A woman laying on a carpet | Source: Midjourney
Why hadn't I called for an ambulance? In my rush to get home to Ben, I had completely forgotten about that. Now, I felt useless.
She was collapsed on her side, one arm twisted beneath her, the other flopped against the carpet like it didn't belong to her. Her eyes were shut, but her mouth was slightly open, like she'd been trying to say something.
A dark stain spread out from a shattered glass of water. Next to her head, a folded pillow.
A colored ice pack on a carpet | Source: Midjourney
And on her forehead, Ben's doing, a cold pack from the freezer, the one I used for bruised knees and bumped elbows.
The scene felt wrong, too quiet, like a photograph left in the sun too long. It was flat. Surreal.
I rushed to her side. Pressed my fingers to her neck. There was a pulse.
"Thank God," I muttered.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
Ruby was all shallow breathing, her skin clammy. She was alive, but barely responsive. Her lashes fluttered once, then went still.
Ben had seen this. He'd watched her collapse. Maybe he thought that she'd died.
And in that moment, I felt something crack open in me.
Because I wasn't just terrified for Ruby. I was gutted for him.
A scared little boy | Source: Midjourney
My boy, only six years old, had tried to wake her, had run to get the cold pack, had spilled the water trying to help. He must've dragged a chair to the junk drawer, to where the old phone was. Searched through cords and broken pens. And when nothing else worked, he'd called me.
Then waited. Alone. In a closet.
Because he didn't know if she'd wake up. Because he was too scared to be in the same room but couldn't leave her either.
That's not something a child should ever carry.
A junk drawer in a home | Source: Midjourney
And suddenly I wasn't in the living room anymore. I was two years back.
Bananas, milk, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and other random groceries in the trunk. Ben had insisted on the dinosaur-shaped pasta, and I'd caved.
We were laughing as we carried the bags up the porch. Ben, holding a baguette and pretending to slash the air with it.
Dinosaur-shaped pasta | Source: Midjourney
"I'll fight bad guys with this bread, Momma," he said.
I remember the way the sky looked that day, cloudless, too blue. I remember unlocking the door, calling his name. I remember the stillness.
It was too quiet.
And then we found him.
A little boy holding a baguette | Source: Midjourney
Lying on the bed like he'd just decided to take a nap. Only he wasn't breathing. And there was something about the way his mouth hung open, about how his hand dangled off the edge of the bed, loose and wrong and lifeless.
Ben asked why Daddy wasn't waking up. I didn't answer. I couldn't. My knees had given out before I could reach the phone.
A heart attack. Sudden. Massive.
A man laying in his bed | Source: Midjourney
They told me later he wouldn't have felt a thing. But I did.
And now, staring at Ruby's still body, the room spun. My throat closed. The edges of my vision curled like burning paper. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear Ben's breathing behind me.
A concerned woman sitting in a living room | Source: Midjourney
The smell of spilled water mixed with the sharp metallic edge of panic, and I tasted bile at the back of my throat. My hands were shaking. I could feel it, that old terror bubbling back up, fast and hot and thick.
My baby had already found one body. He couldn't find another.
I swallowed the scream clawing its way up my throat, blinked hard, and forced my hands to move.
Call. Now.
A