In the midst of the day, I sneaked home to grab my tablet, anticipating that the house would be peaceful and devoid of any activity. There is no noise, and there is no turmoil; it is just a brief visit before everyone goes back to work. But as soon as I went inside, I became completely still.
This attic ladder was dangling from the ceiling. I did nothing but stare for a little period of time. It was anticipated that the residence would be quiet.
All of the children were enrolled in school or daycare. Liam, my husband, was working at the time. Who on earth was responsible for moving the ladder down from the attic?
I then became aware of it—a voice. “The voice of a child.”
Suddenly, I found myself unable to breathe. Forty-five years have passed since I first met Liam.
When we were young, we were married and started our lives from the ground up. Now, for some reason, we have four children: three tiny hurricanes who are each under the age of ten, and Aaron, our oldest child, who has recently turned thirteen. Laughter, yelling, footsteps, weeping, and the dog barking at nothing are just some of the sounds that can almost constantly be heard in our home.
The absence of sound is an uncommon occurrence in this location. When it does appear, it almost always indicates that there will be problems. At our home, quiet does not constitute a peaceful environment.
It raises some questions. It is possible that someone is sketching on the walls, the dog is eating a shoe, or Jack and Ella are scheming their “escape from bedtime.” But if there is silence, it is because of one of these things. Whereas, in the afternoon?
This stillness was not like any other. Weighty. Ominous.
As soon as I stepped inside, the atmosphere was dense. When I first became aware of the attic ladder, my heart was already beating rapidly. It had been years since we had moved into this house, yet I had never ventured up there.
Not a single time. According to Liam, it was little more than stale insulation and boxes that had been neglected. And then, all of a sudden, everything was all open.
I moved forward stealthily, my steps moving slowly across the hardwood floor. Perhaps it was nothing at all. It’s possible that Liam had left in advance.
Perhaps—
And then I heard it once more. There is a voice. It was a little bit soft… clearly belonging to a child.
The pit of my stomach sank. Exactly one second later, the voice of a lady joined in. Stable.
Take care. As if she were doing some sort of explanation. After that, she made a statement that caused my blood to turn ice cold.
“Remember, Aaron, you need to put this in Mom’s bag, all right?”
It’s Aaron. It is Aaron. I became numb.
My mind was a mess as it attempted to make sense of it. While Aaron was in the attic, what was he doing? Who exactly was that woman?
And what was it that she wanted him to put in my bag? That is the most crucial question. The sound of my heartbeat rang in my ears.
Were they attempting to set me up for failure? Had my youngster been subjected to manipulation? Suddenly, my head was filled with a hundred other gloomy possibilities.
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