I woke at 3 a.m. to get water. From my son’s room came a soft voice, “Mom, can you turn off the light?” Without hesitation, I switched it off. Crawling back into bed, dread slammed me—my son was camping miles away.
Suddenly, footsteps crept down the hall. The bedroom door creaked open, and a cold whisper brushed my ear: “Thanks, Mom.”
I froze. The voice wasn’t my son’s.
