Every night, my husband went to sleep in our daughter’s room. At first, I didn’t pay it any mind, but one day I decided to hide a camera in her room, and when I watched the footage, I nearly passed out from horror
I’ve always considered myself a good mother. After my first divorce, I promised myself that I would never allow anyone to hurt my daughter again. I lived only for her, trying to control everything that could even slightly affect her.
Three years later, Max came into our lives. He was calm, caring, fifteen years older than me. He treated Emma so warmly and attentively, as if she were his own. For the first time in a long time, I thought that maybe this is what a real home looks like—calm and safe.
Emma turned seven last spring. Ever since she was a child, she had trouble sleeping. She often woke up screaming at night, trembling, and sometimes sleepwalking. Sometimes she’d just sit in bed and stare into the hallway, as if she saw someone there. I chalked it all up to the past and was sure that love would fix everything with time.
But it didn’t get any easier.
After a few months, I began to notice something strange. Almost every night around midnight, Max would get out of our bed. He’d whisper the same thing: his back hurt, the couch would be more comfortable. I believed him… until the night I woke up and couldn’t find him anywhere.
