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I thought I was babysitting twins until I counted three kids in the house · Martin Animations

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  Speaker 1: I thought I was babysitting twins until I counted three
• 0:02
  Speaker 1: kids in the house. The Caldwell family seemed perfect when
• 0:05
  Speaker 1: I met them at the coffee shop downtown. Catherine Caldwell
• 0:08
  Speaker 1: wore a crisp white blouse and had this warm smile
• 0:11
  Speaker 1: that immediately put me at ease. Her husband David stood
• 0:13
  Speaker 1: beside her, scrolling through his phone while she explained they
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  Speaker 1: needed a sitter for their six-year-old twins, Oliver and Olivia.
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  Speaker 1: The pay was exceptional, $ 40 an hour for weekend evenings,
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  Speaker 1: and they lived just 15 minutes from my apartment. I'd
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  Speaker 1: been struggling to cover textbooks for my nursing program. so
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  Speaker 1: when Catherine slid a business card across the table with
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  Speaker 1: their address, I didn't hesitate. They wanted to start this Saturday,
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  Speaker 1: which gave me three days to prepare. Catherine texted me
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  Speaker 1: detailed instructions about bedtime routines, allergies neither twin had any,
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  Speaker 1: and emergency contacts. Everything felt professional and organized. She even
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  Speaker 1: sent photos of the twins, two blonde kids with matching dimples,
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  Speaker 1: so I'd recognize them easily. The house was a massive
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  Speaker 1: colonial on Evergreen Lane, the kind with a circular driveway
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  Speaker 1: and professionally landscaped gardens that probably cost more than my
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  Speaker 1: entire year's tuition. Saturday arrived, and I showed up at
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  Speaker 1: 6 p.m. sharp, clutching my backpack full of textbooks I
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  Speaker 1: planned to study once the kids were asleep. Catherine answered
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  Speaker 1: the door in an elegant black dress, pearl earrings catching
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  Speaker 1: the porch light. She ushered me inside quickly, heels clicking
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  Speaker 1: on the marble floor of the foyer. David was already
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  Speaker 1: in the car, she explained. They had reservations across town
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  Speaker 1: and were running late. The twins were in the playroom upstairs,
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  Speaker 1: second door on the left. She'd left pizza money on
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  Speaker 1: the kitchen counter, and her cell number was on the fridge.
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  Speaker 1: Before I could ask any questions, she was gone. the
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  Speaker 1: front door closing with a soft click that echoed through
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  Speaker 1: the enormous entryway. The house smelled like vanilla and expensive
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  Speaker 1: cleaning products, the kind of scent that screamed wealth. I
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  Speaker 1: found the kitchen easily, a sprawling space with granite countertops
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  Speaker 1: and stainless steel appliances that gleamed under recessed lighting. A
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  Speaker 1: crisp $ 50 bill sat next to a note in Catherine's
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  Speaker 1: neat handwriting. Pizza place number in drawer. Kids like pepperoni.
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  Speaker 1: Back by 10pm. I climbed the curved staircase, my sneakers
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  Speaker 1: silent on the plush carpet runner. Family photos lined the wall,
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  Speaker 1: mostly the twins in various stages of childhood, beach vacations,
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  Speaker 1: birthday parties, school pictures with identical smiles. At the landing,
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  Speaker 1: I turned left and counted doors. Second one on the
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  Speaker 1: left stood slightly ajar, cartoon voices drifting into the hallway.
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  Speaker 1: I knocked gently and pushed it open. The playroom was huge,
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  Speaker 1: filled with more toys than any kids could possibly need.
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  Speaker 1: And there they were, three children sitting on the floor
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  Speaker 1: around a board game. I froze in the doorway, counting
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  Speaker 1: again to make sure I wasn't seeing things. One, two,
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  Speaker 1: three kids, all blonde, all around the same age. Two
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  Speaker 1: girls in matching pink dresses and a boy in a
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  Speaker 1: blue polo shirt. They looked up at me with identical faces,
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  Speaker 1: same dimples, same blue eyes. My brain stuttered trying to
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  Speaker 1: process what I was seeing. Hi, the boy said casually.
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  Speaker 1: Are you Amy? Mom said you were coming. I managed
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  Speaker 1: to nod, my mouth suddenly dry. I'm Oliver, he continued,
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  Speaker 1: pointing to himself, then gestured to the girls. That's Olivia,
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  Speaker 1: and that's Ophelia. Ophelia. Catherine hadn't mentioned a third child.
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  Speaker 1: I scanned the room for some explanation and Maybe a
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  Speaker 1: neighbor kid had come over to play, but the way
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  Speaker 1: they sat together felt permanent, familiar, like siblings who'd spent
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  Speaker 1: their whole lives in this room. Your mom told me
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  Speaker 1: she had twins, I said carefully, trying to keep my
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  Speaker 1: voice steady. The three of them exchanged glances, some silent
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  Speaker 1: communication passing between them. Oh, Olivia said, her voice eerily
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  Speaker 1: similar to her brother's. Mom probably forgot to mention Ophelia.
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  Speaker 1: That happens sometimes. That happens sometimes? What kind of explanation
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  Speaker 1: was that? I pulled out my phone, thinking I'd text
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  Speaker 1: Catherine for clarification. but my screen showed no signal. That
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  Speaker 1: was strange. I'd had full bars in the driveway. I
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  Speaker 1: walked to the window, holding my phone up, watching the
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  Speaker 1: bars remain stubbornly absent. Wi-Fi password? I asked, trying to
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  Speaker 1: sound casual. Oliver rattled off a string of numbers and
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  Speaker 1: letters that I typed into my phone. Password incorrect. Are
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  Speaker 1: you sure that's right? I asked. All three kids nodded
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  Speaker 1: in unison, that synchronized movement sending a chill down my spine.
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  Speaker 1: Maybe try the one downstairs, Ophelia suggested. It's different on
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  Speaker 1: each floor. Different Wi-Fi on each floor seemed excessive even
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  Speaker 1: for a house this size, but I filed that concern
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  Speaker 1: away with the growing list of oddities. So, what game
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  Speaker 1: are you playing? I asked, stepping closer to get a
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  Speaker 1: better look. The board was nothing I recognized. Hand-drawn paths
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  Speaker 1: connecting strange symbols, game pieces that looked handmade from clay.
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  Speaker 1: It's called Three's Company, Oliver explained. Ophelia invented it. Want
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  Speaker 1: to play? I sat down cross-legged on the carpet, close
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  Speaker 1: enough to see their faces clearly. Now that I was
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  Speaker 1: looking properly, I could see tiny differences. Oliver had a
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  Speaker 1: small scar above his left eyebrow. Olivia's hair was slightly
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  Speaker 1: longer than Ophelia's, and Ophelia had a spattering of freckles
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  Speaker 1: across her nose that her sister lacked, but the resemblance
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  Speaker 1: was uncanny, far more similar than typical siblings. How old
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  Speaker 1: are you guys? I asked, picking up one of the
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  Speaker 1: clay pieces. It was cold, unnaturally so, like it had
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  Speaker 1: been in a freezer. We're six, they said together, that
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  Speaker 1: simultaneous response making me flinch. All of you are six?
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  Speaker 1: Same birthday? They nodded again, those matching faces splitting into
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  Speaker 1: matching smiles. Triplets. Catherine had said twins. Why would she
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  Speaker 1: lie about having triplets? Unless something was seriously wrong with
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  Speaker 1: one of the kids, some issue she didn't want to
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  Speaker 1: explain to a new babysitter. I tried my phone again.
• 5:00
  Speaker 1: Still no signal. The Wi-Fi still refusing to connect. The
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  Speaker 1: pizza money sat downstairs on the counter. But suddenly the
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  Speaker 1: idea of calling for delivery felt impossible without a working phone.
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  Speaker 1: Are you guys hungry? I asked, standing up. My knees cracked,
• 5:12
  Speaker 1: a reminder I'd been sitting in that anatomy lecture for
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  Speaker 1: three hours before coming here. We already ate, Olivia said.
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  Speaker 1: Mom fed us before she left. That seemed unlikely given
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  Speaker 1: the pizza money, but I wasn't going to argue with
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  Speaker 1: kids I'd known for five minutes. The playroom felt warmer
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  Speaker 1: than the rest of the house, almost stuffy, and I
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  Speaker 1: noticed the window was sealed shut, painted over at some point.
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  Speaker 1: Can we go outside? Oliver asked suddenly. To the backyard?
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  Speaker 1: We want to show you something. Evening was settling over
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  Speaker 1: the neighborhood, that golden hour before sunset, and the idea
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  Speaker 1: of fresh air sounded appealing after the stuffy playroom. Sure,
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  Speaker 1: I agreed. Let me just grab my jacket from downstairs.
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  Speaker 1: They bounded ahead of me, their footsteps surprisingly quiet on
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  Speaker 1: the stairs, despite their obvious excitement. I followed more slowly,
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  Speaker 1: still trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled
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  Speaker 1: in my chest, since counting three kids, instead of two.
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  Speaker 1: The kitchen was exactly as I'd left it, $ 50 bill
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  Speaker 1: and note undisturbed. I checked the landline mounted on the
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  Speaker 1: wall by the refrigerator. Dead. No dial tone at all.
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  Speaker 1: My unease shifted toward something closer to concern. I was
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  Speaker 1: in a stranger's house with three kids, no way to
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  Speaker 1: contact anyone, and a detail about the number of children
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  Speaker 1: that didn't match what I'd been told. but Catherine and
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  Speaker 1: David seemed so normal, so professional. There had to be
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  Speaker 1: a reasonable explanation. Maybe Ophelia was a foster child they
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  Speaker 1: were in the process of adopting. Maybe she was a
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  Speaker 1: relative staying with them. I grabbed my jacket from where
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  Speaker 1: I'd draped it over a kitchen chair and headed toward
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  Speaker 1: the back door where the kids were waiting. The backyard
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  Speaker 1: was enormous, easily an acre, with a wooden fence that
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  Speaker 1: seemed unnecessarily tall, at least eight feet, blocking any view
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  Speaker 1: of the neighboring properties. A swing set sat in the
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  Speaker 1: far corner, the kind from expensive catalogs with a slide
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  Speaker 1: and climbing wall. but the kids weren't heading toward the
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  Speaker 1: swing set. They were walking toward a small building near
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  Speaker 1: the back fence, something between a shed and a small house,
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  Speaker 1: maybe ten feet by ten feet, with a single window
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  Speaker 1: and a door painted bright red. What's that? I asked,
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  Speaker 1: following them across the perfectly manicured lawn. Our playhouse, Ophelia said,
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  Speaker 1: running ahead. Dad built it last summer. She reached the
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  Speaker 1: door and pulled it open, disappearing inside. Oliver and Olivia
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  Speaker 1: waited for me, their expressions eager, excited. Come on, Oliver urged.
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  Speaker 1: You have to see the inside. Every instinct I had
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  Speaker 1: was screaming not to go into that shed, but I
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  Speaker 1: was the adult here, responsible for these kids. If they
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  Speaker 1: were playing in there regularly, I needed to know it
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  Speaker 1: was safe. I ducked through the doorway, blinking as my
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  Speaker 1: eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The space was furnished
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  Speaker 1: like a tiny apartment, a small bed in one corner,
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  Speaker 1: a bookshelf crammed with children's books, a table with crayons
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  Speaker 1: and coloring books spread across its surface, and covering every
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  Speaker 1: inch of the walls, hundreds of drawings, all clearly done
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  Speaker 1: by children. I stepped closer to examine them. Most showed
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  Speaker 1: three stick figures, two with long hair, one with short hair,
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  Speaker 1: always holding hands. In every picture, the three figures stood together,
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  Speaker 1: but off to the side, apart from them, were two
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  Speaker 1: larger stick figures. In some drawings, the large figures had
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  Speaker 1: X's over their faces. In others, they were simply missing
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  Speaker 1: their heads. We draw in here a lot, Ophelia said
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  Speaker 1: from behind me, making me jump. I hadn't heard her move.
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  Speaker 1: Do you like them? I studied the drawings more carefully,
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  Speaker 1: noticing details I'd missed at first glance. Numbers written in corners,
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  Speaker 1: dates going back months. Almost a year. Calculations in a
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  Speaker 1: child's handwriting. Crude addition and subtraction. Counting something. What are
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  Speaker 1: you counting? I asked, pointing to a drawing dated six
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  Speaker 1: months ago, the number 142 written in red crayon at
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  Speaker 1: the bottom. Days, Oliver said simply. We count the days.
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  Speaker 1: Before I could ask what that meant, a sound echoed
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  Speaker 1: from the main house. A door opening. Footsteps. That's weird,
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  Speaker 1: Olivia whispered. Mom and Dad aren't supposed to be back
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  Speaker 1: until ten. My watch showed 7.30 p.m. I pulled out
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  Speaker 1: my phone again, uselessly. Still no signal. The footsteps were
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  Speaker 1: getting closer, crossing the kitchen from the sound of it,
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  Speaker 1: heading toward the back door. Maybe we should go say hi,
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  Speaker 1: I suggested, suddenly desperate to talk to Catherine, to get
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  Speaker 1: explanations for everything that felt wrong about this situation. But
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  Speaker 1: the kids had gone completely still, their faces drained of color.
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  Speaker 1: That's not mom, Ophelia breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
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  Speaker 1: That's not dad. The back door of the house opened
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  Speaker 1: and a figure stepped onto the patio. Even from this distance,
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  Speaker 1: even in the fading light, I could see it wasn't
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  Speaker 1: Catherine or David. This person was shorter, broader, wearing dark
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  Speaker 1: clothes and moving with deliberate purpose across the lawn toward us.
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  Speaker 1: Inside the house, I said urgently, grabbing Oliver's hand, but
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  Speaker 1: he pulled away. No, all three kids said together. We
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  Speaker 1: hide here. We always hide here. The figure was halfway
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  Speaker 1: across the lawn now, and I could hear their breathing,
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  Speaker 1: heavy and ragged. I pulled the playhouse door shut and
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  Speaker 1: flipped the small lock, a flimsy thing that wouldn't hold
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  Speaker 1: against any real force. The kids crowded behind me, and
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  Speaker 1: I could feel them trembling. Through the small window, I
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  Speaker 1: watched the figure approach. When they stepped into the light
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  Speaker 1: spilling from the main house, I got a clear look
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  Speaker 1: at their face. It was Catherine. But something was wrong
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  Speaker 1: with her. Fundamentally wrong. Her makeup was smeared, her elegant
• 9:48
  Speaker 1: dress torn at the shoulder. Her eyes had a wild,
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  Speaker 1: unfocused quality, and she was holding something in her right hand.
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  Speaker 1: A knife. Not a kitchen knife. Something longer. More deliberate.
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  Speaker 1: She walked past the playhouse without stopping. heading toward the
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  Speaker 1: back fence, and I watched her examine it carefully, running
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  Speaker 1: her free hand along the boards like she was looking
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  Speaker 1: for something. What's happening? I whispered to the kids, but
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  Speaker 1: they were fixated on Catherine, tracking her movements with the
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  Speaker 1: intensity of prey animals watching a predator. She turned suddenly,
• 10:14
  Speaker 1: her head tilting at an unnatural angle, and looked directly
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  Speaker 1: at the playhouse. At me, visible through the window. A
• 10:20
  Speaker 1: smile spread across her face, but it was all wrong,
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  Speaker 1: too wide, showing too many teeth. She started walking toward us,
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  Speaker 1: that knife catching the last rays of sunlight. I fumbled
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  Speaker 1: for my phone, stupidly, knowing it wouldn't work, and that's
• 10:32
  Speaker 1: when Oliver grabbed my wrist. His small hand was ice cold.
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  Speaker 1: She can't come in here, he said quietly. The red door.
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  Speaker 1: She can't cross the red door. It sounded like something
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  Speaker 1: from a fairy tale, magical thinking that wouldn't hold up
• 10:43
  Speaker 1: against reality, but the kid seemed so certain. Catherine reached
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  Speaker 1: the door and stopped, exactly as Oliver predicted. Her hand
• 10:50
  Speaker 1: reached out toward the red paint, but pulled back before
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  Speaker 1: making contact, like she'd touched something hot. Amy, she called,
• 10:57
  Speaker 1: her voice syrupy sweet, nothing like the professional woman from
• 10:59
  Speaker 1: the coffee shop. Amy dear, please come out, I need
• 11:03
  Speaker 1: to talk to you about the children. I pressed my
• 11:05
  Speaker 1: back against the wall, trying to slow my breathing. Mrs. Caldwell,
• 11:08
  Speaker 1: are you okay? I called back, hoping I sounded calmer
• 11:11
  Speaker 1: than I felt. I'm perfect, she said, that wrong smile
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  Speaker 1: still plastered across her face. Just perfect, but I need
• 11:18
  Speaker 1: you to send the children out. All three of them.
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  Speaker 1: It's very important. Ophelia's hand found mine, her grip surprisingly strong. Don't,
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  Speaker 1: she whispered. Please don't. Catherine's smile faltered, that mask of
• 11:30
  Speaker 1: sweetness cracking. The children need to come back to the
• 11:32
  Speaker 1: main house now, she said, her voice taking on a
• 11:34
  Speaker 1: harder edge. This game has gone on long enough. Game?
• 11:38
  Speaker 1: What game? I looked down at the three kids huddled
• 11:40
  Speaker 1: around me, their faces reflecting pure terror. These weren't kids
• 11:44
  Speaker 1: playing make-believe. They were genuinely afraid. Why don't you tell
• 11:47
  Speaker 1: me what's really going on? I said to Catherine, trying
• 11:50
  Speaker 1: to keep her talking, stalling for time while I figured
• 11:52
  Speaker 1: out what to do. Where's David? Her laugh was harsh, brittle.
• 11:56
  Speaker 1: David's where he always is. Useless. But that's fine. I
• 11:59
  Speaker 1: can handle this myself. I've handled it before. She raised
• 12:02
  Speaker 1: the knife, examining it in the dying light. Did you
• 12:05
  Speaker 1: know we had triplets, Amy? Beautiful triplets. Oliver, Olivia, and Ophelia.
• 12:09
  Speaker 1: Such perfect names. Such perfect children. The way she said
• 12:12
  Speaker 1: had made my blood run cold. They're right here, I
• 12:15
  Speaker 1: said carefully. All three of them. They're fine. No, Catherine said.
• 12:19
  Speaker 1: And for a moment, something human flickered in her eyes,
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  Speaker 1: something like anguish. No, they're not fine. They should have
• 12:25
  Speaker 1: stayed too. Twins are acceptable, manageable. But three? Three is chaos.
• 12:29
  Speaker 1: Three is wrong. Three needs to be corrected. Corrected. The
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  Speaker 1: word hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.
• 12:36
  Speaker 1: I thought about those drawings. The stick figures with X's
• 12:38
  Speaker 1: over their faces. The numbers counting days. How long have
• 12:41
  Speaker 1: they been hiding from you? I asked. Catherine's face twisted
• 12:44
  Speaker 1: into something ugly. Eighty-six days, she hissed. since I tried
• 12:48
  Speaker 1: to fix it, since I tried to make things right.
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  Speaker 1: But they locked themselves in here with their magic door
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  Speaker 1: and their rules, and I can't reach them. But you can, Amy.
• 12:56
  Speaker 1: You can send them out. Just one of them. Just Ophelia.
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  Speaker 1: The extra one. That's all I need. My mind raced,
• 13:02
  Speaker 1: trying to piece together what she was saying. She'd tried
• 13:04
  Speaker 1: to kill Ophelia eighty-six days ago. The kids had been
• 13:07
  Speaker 1: living in this playhouse for almost three months, hiding from
• 13:10
  Speaker 1: their own mother. And the red door somehow kept her out.
• 13:13
  Speaker 1: None of it made sense, but the knife in her
• 13:14
  Speaker 1: hand was real enough. Mrs. Caldwell. I think you need help,
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  Speaker 1: I said gently. Why don't you go back inside and
• 13:20
  Speaker 1: I'll call someone who can- You can't call anyone, she interrupted,
• 13:24
  Speaker 1: her smile returning. We made sure of that. No signal.
• 13:27
  Speaker 1: No landline. David handled the technical details before I handled David.
• 13:31
  Speaker 1: Handled David. The implication was clear. An ice flooded my veins.
• 13:35
  Speaker 1: Where is your husband? I asked, though I wasn't sure
• 13:37
  Speaker 1: I wanted the answer. In the basement, she said cheerfully. Resting.
• 13:41
  Speaker 1: He'll be fine once this is over. Once we're back
• 13:43
  Speaker 1: to two. Two is perfect. Two is balanced. Three throws
• 13:46
  Speaker 1: everything off. I glanced down at the kids. They were
• 13:49
  Speaker 1: holding each other, tears streaming down their faces, but staying
• 13:52
  Speaker 1: absolutely silent. They'd heard all of this before, I realized.
• 13:55
  Speaker 1: This wasn't the first time Catherine had come to the
• 13:57
  Speaker 1: door with a knife and madness in her eyes. How
• 13:59
  Speaker 1: have you been surviving out here? I whispered to them.
• 14:02
  Speaker 1: The window in back. Oliver breathed. Dad leaves food there
• 14:05
  Speaker 1: when mom's asleep, but we haven't seen him in three days.
• 14:08
  Speaker 1: Three days. No food, no water. These kids were literally
• 14:11
  Speaker 1: starving while their mother stalked them with a knife. My
• 14:14
  Speaker 1: nursing instincts kicked in, overriding my terror. They needed help.
• 14:17
  Speaker 1: Professional help. And I was the only adult available who
• 14:20
  Speaker 1: wasn't actively trying to kill someone. Catherine, I called out,
• 14:23
  Speaker 1: using her first name deliberately, trying to establish some connection.
• 14:27
  Speaker 1: Let's talk about this reasonably. You're obviously under a lot
• 14:29
  Speaker 1: of stress. Having triplets must have been overwhelming. Her eyes
• 14:32
  Speaker 1: focused on me with laser intensity. You don't understand, she said,
• 14:36
  Speaker 1: her voice dropping to something almost conversational. I tried. For
• 14:40
  Speaker 1: six years I tried to love all three equally. But
• 14:42
  Speaker 1: every time I looked at Ophelia, all I could see
• 14:45
  Speaker 1: was the mistake. The genetic anomaly. The egg that split wrong.
• 14:48
  Speaker 1: Two was supposed to be enough. Two made sense. But three?
• 14:52
  Speaker 1: She shook her head. Three meant something was wrong with me.
• 14:54
  Speaker 1: Wrong with my body. And I couldn't live with that anymore.
• 14:57
  Speaker 1: The casual way she talked about murdering her own child
• 15:00
  Speaker 1: made bile rise in my throat. I'd studied psychology as
• 15:03
  Speaker 1: part of my nursing program, knew about postpartum psychosis, about
• 15:06
  Speaker 1: maternal mental health crises. But this felt different. More calculated.
• 15:10
  Speaker 1: This was a woman who'd been planning this for months.
• 15:12
  Speaker 1: Maybe years. What about David? I asked. Doesn't he love
• 15:15
  Speaker 1: all three kids? Her laugh was sharp as broken glass.
• 15:18
  Speaker 1: David was weak. He said we should get help, said
• 15:21
  Speaker 1: I needed to see a doctor. He didn't understand that
• 15:23
  Speaker 1: I don't need fixing. The situation needs fixing. One less child,
• 15:27
  Speaker 1: and everything goes back to normal. I thought about David
• 15:29
  Speaker 1: in the basement, wondered if he was still alive, if
• 15:31
  Speaker 1: there was any chance of reaching him, getting him to help.
• 15:34
  Speaker 1: But Catherine stood between us and the house, and that
• 15:36
  Speaker 1: knife wasn't going anywhere. The sun had fully set now,
• 15:39
  Speaker 1: and the backyard was sliding into darkness. Motion sensor lights
• 15:42
  Speaker 1: clicked on, bathing the lawn in harsh white light, that
• 15:45
  Speaker 1: made Catherine's shadow stretch toward us like a reaching hand.
• 15:48
  Speaker 1: You know what the really funny part is? Catherine said conversationally,
• 15:51
  Speaker 1: like we were having coffee instead of a hostage negotiation.
• 15:54
  Speaker 1: The school thinks there are only two of them. When
• 15:56
  Speaker 1: we registered them for kindergarten last year, I only enrolled
• 15:59
  Speaker 1: Oliver and Olivia. Ophelia technically doesn't exist. No school records,
• 16:03
  Speaker 1: no doctor's appointments since she was two. She's a ghost child.
• 16:07
  Speaker 1: If she disappeared, no one would even know to look
• 16:09
  Speaker 1: for her. Beside me, Ophelia made a small sound, quickly stifled.
• 16:13
  Speaker 1: I squeezed her hand, trying to offer some comfort. That's
• 16:16
  Speaker 1: not true, I said firmly. I know about her now,
• 16:18
  Speaker 1: and if anything happens to these kids I'll make sure
• 16:20
  Speaker 1: everyone knows. Catherine's smile faded. Will you though? Or will
• 16:24
  Speaker 1: you just become another problem that needs solving? The threat
• 16:26
  Speaker 1: was clear. I wasn't just a babysitter anymore. I was
• 16:29
  Speaker 1: a witness. Someone who could expose what Catherine had been doing.
• 16:32
  Speaker 1: My phone was useless. The landline dead. And I was
• 16:35
  Speaker 1: locked in a shed with three starving children- while a
• 16:37
  Speaker 1: woman with a knife stood outside contemplating whether to add
• 16:40
  Speaker 1: me to her body count. I needed a plan. Some
• 16:43
  Speaker 1: way to get past Catherine and into the house, to
• 16:45
  Speaker 1: find David, to call for help. But the playhouse had
• 16:47
  Speaker 1: only one door, and Catherine was standing right in front
• 16:50
  Speaker 1: of it. There's a loose board in the back, Olivia whispered.
• 16:53
  Speaker 1: So quietly I almost missed it. Near the floor. We
• 16:56
  Speaker 1: used to use it to get food from Dad. I
• 16:57
  Speaker 1: glanced toward the back wall. In the harsh shadows cast
• 17:00
  Speaker 1: by the motion lights, I could barely make out what
• 17:02
  Speaker 1: she was talking about. But I nodded. Can you fit
• 17:04
  Speaker 1: through it? I breathed. All three kids nodded. Okay, I said,
• 17:08
  Speaker 1: my mind racing. When I say go, you three squeeze
• 17:11
  Speaker 1: through that board and run. Run to a neighbor's house,
• 17:13
  Speaker 1: any house with lights on. Bang on the door and
• 17:15
  Speaker 1: scream for help. Don't stop running until you're inside someone
• 17:18
  Speaker 1: else's house. Understand? They nodded again, their faces solemn. What
• 17:22
  Speaker 1: about you? Oliver asked. I looked at the door, at
• 17:25
  Speaker 1: Catherine's shadow on the ground outside. I'm going to make
• 17:27
  Speaker 1: sure she doesn't follow you. It was a terrible plan,
• 17:30
  Speaker 1: likely to end with me getting stabbed, but these kids
• 17:32
  Speaker 1: had been trapped for 86 days, and I wasn't about
• 17:35
  Speaker 1: to let that continue. I looked around the playhouse for
• 17:37
  Speaker 1: anything I could use as a weapon. The table was
• 17:39
  Speaker 1: too heavy to lift quickly. The chair was small, meant
• 17:42
  Speaker 1: for children. My eyes landed on the bookshelf in the corner.
• 17:45
  Speaker 1: On three, I whispered. One, two, I didn't say three. Instead,
• 17:50
  Speaker 1: I grabbed the bookshelf and threw my weight against it,
• 17:52
  Speaker 1: sending it crashing into the door. Books and toys exploded outward,
• 17:56
  Speaker 1: and the door burst open, catching Catherine off guard. She
• 17:59
  Speaker 1: stumbled backward, and I launched myself through the opening before
• 18:01
  Speaker 1: she could recover. I hit her in the chest with
• 18:03
  Speaker 1: my shoulder. and we both went down, rolling across the grass.
• 18:07
  Speaker 1: I heard the knife skitter away across the lawn, lost
• 18:09
  Speaker 1: in the darkness. Behind me, I heard small feet running,
• 18:12
  Speaker 1: the sound of wood splintering as the kids forced their
• 18:14
  Speaker 1: way through the loose board. Run! I screamed, grappling with Catherine.
• 18:18
  Speaker 1: She was stronger than she looked, fueled by whatever madness
• 18:21
  Speaker 1: had taken hold of her. Her hands found my throat, squeezing,
• 18:24
  Speaker 1: and spots danced in my vision. I drove my knee
• 18:26
  Speaker 1: up into her stomach, and her grip loosened enough for
• 18:29
  Speaker 1: me to suck in a breath. We rolled again, and
• 18:31
  Speaker 1: my hand touched something cold and metal. The knife. I
• 18:34
  Speaker 1: grabbed it, holding it between us. Not sure if I
• 18:36
  Speaker 1: could actually use it, but hoping the threat would be enough.
• 18:39
  Speaker 1: Catherine went still, her eyes fixed on the blade. You
• 18:42
  Speaker 1: don't understand, she panted. They're my children. I have the
• 18:45
  Speaker 1: right- You have the right to get help. I cut
• 18:48
  Speaker 1: her off. You have the right to be a mother
• 18:49
  Speaker 1: who protects her kids, not hunts them. Tears were streaming
• 18:52
  Speaker 1: down her face now, but her expression remained twisted, caught
• 18:55
  Speaker 1: between grief and rage. I just wanted to, she sobbed.
• 18:59
  Speaker 1: Is that so wrong? To want what I planned for?
• 19:01
  Speaker 1: To want what I can handle? I kept the knife steady,
• 19:04
  Speaker 1: my hands shaking. In the distance, I could hear shouts,
• 19:07
  Speaker 1: the sound of doors opening. The kids must have reached
• 19:09
  Speaker 1: the neighbors. Help was coming. I just had to keep
• 19:11
  Speaker 1: Catherine here, keep her from going after them until someone arrived.
• 19:14
  Speaker 1: It's over, I said quietly. Whatever you were planning, it's
• 19:17
  Speaker 1: over now. She stared at me for a long moment,
• 19:20
  Speaker 1: and I saw the moment something broke inside her. Her
• 19:22
  Speaker 1: whole body went slack, and she started laughing, a high,
• 19:25
  Speaker 1: hysterical sound that made my skin crawl. Over, she repeated. Yes,
• 19:30
  Speaker 1: I suppose it is. She looked toward the main house.
• 19:32
  Speaker 1: You should check on David. basement like I said, though
• 19:35
  Speaker 1: I don't think talking will do much good anymore. Sirens
• 19:37
  Speaker 1: were wailing now, getting closer. Red and blue lights flickered
• 19:40
  Speaker 1: across the fence line. I got to my feet carefully,
• 19:43
  Speaker 1: keeping the knife pointed at Catherine, though she didn't seem
• 19:45
  Speaker 1: interested in fighting anymore. She just lay there on the grass,
• 19:49
  Speaker 1: staring up at the darkening sky, tears running down into
• 19:51
  Speaker 1: her hair. Police swarmed into the backyard seconds later and
• 19:54
  Speaker 1: hands pulled me away from Catherine, took the knife, wrapped
• 19:57
  Speaker 1: a blanket around my shoulders even though I wasn't cold.
• 20:00
  Speaker 1: I watched them handcuff her, watched her go without resistance,
• 20:03
  Speaker 1: still wearing that torn black dress and that broken expression.
• 20:06
  Speaker 1: An officer led me toward the house. The kids said
• 20:08
  Speaker 1: their father is in the basement, he said. Do you
• 20:11
  Speaker 1: know anything about that? I shook my head. She said
• 20:13
  Speaker 1: she handled him. That's all I know. We found David
• 20:16
  Speaker 1: in the basement, and for a moment I thought we
• 20:17
  Speaker 1: were too late. He was tied to a chair, duct
• 20:20
  Speaker 1: tape over his mouth, blood dried on his temple where
• 20:22
  Speaker 1: he'd been hit. But when the officer checked his pulse,
• 20:25
  Speaker 1: his eyes fluttered open. He was alive. Barely, but alive.
• 20:29
  Speaker 1: I sat on the back patio while EMTs worked on David,
• 20:31
  Speaker 1: while officers took statements from neighbors who'd called 911 when
• 20:34
  Speaker 1: three screaming children had banged on their doors. The kids
• 20:37
  Speaker 1: were already gone, taken to the hospital for evaluation, but
• 20:40
  Speaker 1: a detective sat down beside me with a notepad. We
• 20:43
  Speaker 1: need your statement, she said gently. Start from the beginning.
• 20:46
  Speaker 1: So I did. I told her about the coffee shop meeting,
• 20:49
  Speaker 1: about Catherine mentioning twins, about arriving to find three children
• 20:52
  Speaker 1: instead of two, about the playhouse with its red door
• 20:55
  Speaker 1: and its drawings counting days, about Catherine and the knife
• 20:58
  Speaker 1: and the 86 days the kids had been hiding. The
• 21:00
  Speaker 1: detective's expression grew darker with every word. The playhouse, she
• 21:04
  Speaker 1: said when I finished. You said something about a red
• 21:06
  Speaker 1: door keeping her out? I nodded. though it sounded insane
• 21:09
  Speaker 1: saying it out loud. The kid said she couldn't cross it,
• 21:11
  Speaker 1: and she didn't. She stood right outside but wouldn't touch
• 21:14
  Speaker 1: the door. The detective glanced toward the small building, now
• 21:17
  Speaker 1: swarming with crime scene text taking photographs. Kids believe in
• 21:20
  Speaker 1: a lot of things when they're scared, she said carefully.
• 21:23
  Speaker 1: Magical thinking is common in trauma, but the reality is
• 21:26
  Speaker 1: probably simpler. The door locked from the inside, and Catherine
• 21:29
  Speaker 1: couldn't break it down without tools. The red paint is
• 21:31
  Speaker 1: just paint. Maybe. But I'd seen Catherine's hand pull back
• 21:35
  Speaker 1: from that door like it burned her, I'd seen the
• 21:37
  Speaker 1: certainty in the kids' faces. Some things didn't have rational explanations,
• 21:40
  Speaker 1: and maybe that was okay. Maybe it was enough that
• 21:43
  Speaker 1: it kept them alive for 86 days. A week later,
• 21:45
  Speaker 1: I visited the kids at their temporary foster home, all
• 21:48
  Speaker 1: three of them together, because the social worker said separating
• 21:51
  Speaker 1: them would cause more trauma after everything they'd been through.
• 21:53
  Speaker 1: They looked better, cleaner, fed, the bruised look of starvation
• 21:57
  Speaker 1: fading from their faces. Dad's out of the hospital, Oliver
• 22:00
  Speaker 1: told me. They said we might get to see him
• 22:02
  Speaker 1: next month, when he's better. And Mom? I asked. though
• 22:05
  Speaker 1: I wasn't sure I wanted the answer. The kids exchanged glances.
• 22:09
  Speaker 1: Mom's going to be gone for a long time, Olivia
• 22:11
  Speaker 1: said quietly. The doctors say she's sick, not the kind
• 22:14
  Speaker 1: of sick that gets better quickly. Ophelia climbed into my lap,
• 22:17
  Speaker 1: something she never would have done that first night, and
• 22:19
  Speaker 1: hugged me tight. Thank you for not sending me out,
• 22:22
  Speaker 1: she whispered. Thank you for keeping me. I held her close.
• 22:25
  Speaker 1: This little girl who'd been erased from records, hidden from
• 22:28
  Speaker 1: the world, marked for death by her own mother. You
• 22:30
  Speaker 1: were never extra, I told her firmly. You were never
• 22:33
  Speaker 1: a mistake. You're exactly who you're supposed to be. Before
• 22:36
  Speaker 1: I left, Oliver showed me a new drawing he'd made.
• 22:38
  Speaker 1: Three stick figures holding hands, but this time there were
• 22:41
  Speaker 1: no crossed out faces in the background. Just three kids
• 22:44
  Speaker 1: standing together, and off to the side, a fourth figure.
• 22:47
  Speaker 1: A babysitter with curly hair and glasses. Me. For keeping
• 22:50
  Speaker 1: us safe, he said, handing it to me. I kept
• 22:52
  Speaker 1: that drawing, framed it, hung it in my apartment where
• 22:55
  Speaker 1: I could see it every day. It reminded me that
• 22:57
  Speaker 1: sometimes the job we think we're signing up for isn't
• 23:00
  Speaker 1: the job we end up doing. Sometimes we're called to
• 23:02
  Speaker 1: do more, to be more, than we ever imagined. The
• 23:05
  Speaker 1: Caldwell case made local news for a few weeks. Woman
• 23:08
  Speaker 1: arrested for attempted murder of her own daughter. Husband nearly killed.
• 23:11
  Speaker 1: Children found living in backyard playhouse. Mental health experts gave
• 23:14
  Speaker 1: sound bites about postpartum psychosis, about the pressure of multiple births,
• 23:18
  Speaker 1: about warning signs everyone had missed. But they didn't know
• 23:21
  Speaker 1: about the 86 days. They didn't know about the red door.
• 23:25
  Speaker 1: They didn't know about three kids who'd survived by counting
• 23:28
  Speaker 1: days and believing in the magic of a color. David
• 23:30
  Speaker 1: eventually regained custody, moved the kids to a different state,
• 23:34
  Speaker 1: Started over somewhere Catherine could never find them. He sent
• 23:37
  Speaker 1: me a card last Christmas. A photo of all three
• 23:39
  Speaker 1: kids smiling on a beach somewhere warm. Ophelia right in
• 23:43
  Speaker 1: the middle where she belonged. No more hiding. No more
• 23:45
  Speaker 1: counting days. Just three kids being kids. Sometimes late at night.
• 23:49
  Speaker 1: I still think about that evening. About knocking on the
• 23:52
  Speaker 1: playroom door expecting twins and finding triplets. About the drawings
• 23:55
  Speaker 1: counting days. About Catherine with her knife and her terrible logic.
• 23:59
  Speaker 1: About how close we came to everything ending differently. If
• 24:02
  Speaker 1: you enjoyed this, you'll definitely want to see the next
• 24:04
  Speaker 1: ones too. So subscribe now and let me know your
• 24:06
  Speaker 1: take in the comments.