That day split my life into before and after.
I was staying at my mom’s place while she was out of town. First time there. She had moved into this quiet, suburban craftsman just three months ago, and I’d been too busy with work to visit. It was late when I got in, and the hallway light was out. Typical Mom—probably forgot to change the bulb again.
I used my phone flashlight, the narrow beam cutting through the dust motes. I fed her cat, Earl, but he barely came to me. He remained tucked under the radiator, his yellow eyes wide and unblinking. No meowing, no interest in food. Weird. Too tired to overthink it, I headed to bed.
And then—I felt it.
The mattress shifted. There was a warmth radiating from the center of the bed that shouldn’t have been there. I jumped up, heart racing, flashlight shaking. The beam landed on a face. There was a man sleeping there.
“What the hell?! Who are you?!” I screamed.
He opened his eyes, groggy and squinting against the light. “Sadie?”
My blood ran cold. The sound of my name in a stranger’s mouth felt like a physical violation. “HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!”
He slowly raised his hands, palms out. “Please. I can explain. Just… don’t call the cops.”
I was already unlocking my phone, my thumb hovering over the emergency call button, when he reached into his coat and pulled out a worn, leather wallet. He flipped it open.
In the flickering light of my phone, I didn’t see a weapon. I saw a photograph. It was a polaroid, yellowed at the edges. It showed my mother, twenty years younger, laughing on a beach. She was holding a toddler with a birthmark on her left wrist—a birthmark exactly like mine.
“My name is Elias,” he whispered. “I’m not a burglar, Sadie. I’m the man your mother told you died in a car accident twenty-two years ago.”
I felt the air leave the room. My mother had raised me as a single parent, weaving a tragic tale of a young father lost to a rainy highway in Seattle. I had a headstone to visit. I had a death certificate in a box in the attic.
“You’re lying,” I spat, though my hand began to drop. “He’s dead. I’ve seen the papers.”
“She was protecting us,” Elias said, sitting up. He looked haggard, his eyes filled with a desperate kind of grief. “Not from me. From the people I was working with back then. She had to make me disappear to keep you safe. But she called me last week. She said she couldn’t keep the lie going anymore. She told me to come here… she said she was going to tell you tonight.”
The room felt like it was spinning. If he was telling the truth, then my mother hadn’t just “gone out of town.” She had staged this meeting. But why wasn’t she here?
“Where is she?” I demanded.
Elias’s expression shifted from fear to a deep, hollow dread. “She was supposed to meet me here at 8:00 PM. I waited. The door was unlocked. I… I must have fallen asleep waiting. Sadie, if she isn’t here, and she isn’t with you…”
We both looked toward the bedside table. My mother’s cell phone was sitting there, plugged into the charger. She never went anywhere without it.
Suddenly, the silence of the house felt heavy. I remembered Earl the cat hiding under the radiator. He wasn’t being “weird”—he was terrified.
“We have to go,” Elias said, standing up with a sudden, sharp urgency. “Now.”
“I’m calling the police,” I said, my voice trembling.
“If you call them, they’ll see my face. The records will sync. The people who think I’m dead will know I’m alive, and they’ll know you’re with me.” He grabbed a small bag from the floor. “Your mother didn’t leave because she forgot to change the lightbulb, Sadie. The bulb didn’t burn out. It was unscrewed.”
I looked toward the hallway. In the darkness, I heard the faint, distinct sound of the front door deadbolt clicking open.
My mother wasn’t out of town. She was the bait. And as Elias grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the window, I realized my life hadn’t just split into “before and after.” It had just become a race for survival.
