down.
For three weeks my daughter Mia repeated the same unusual sentence every night before going to sleep.
My brain searched desperately for a logical explanation.
Maybe the frame was broken.
Maybe a spring had snapped.
Maybe the new mattress wasn’t installed correctly.
But none of those possibilities explained what happened next.
The blanket lifted slightly near Mia’s legs. As if something underneath had pressed upward.
“Mia,” I said out loud, already standing up.
I grabbed my robe and rushed down the hallway toward her bedroom while still watching the camera feed on my
