I promised myself the next day would be different.
I knew, and I still said sorry.
The next afternoon, the kids swam again.
I sat outside this time, watching every second.
They splashed.
They giggled.
But they did not scream, not once.
Katherine’s curtains twitched.
they did not scream, not once.
I saw the shape of her behind the glass, watching.
“She’s spying on us again,” my son muttered.
“Just ignore her,” I said. “She has nothing better to do.”
No shouting, no visit, no complaint came that day.
But late in the afternoon I caught her on the phone through the kitchen window, pacing, jabbing her free hand toward my yard as she spoke.
“She’s spying on us again,”
I let myself believe it was nothing.
That was my mistake.
***
At five o’clock the following morning, a deep rumbling noise dragged me out of sleep.
The whole house seemed to vibrate.
