The Babysitter

Chapter 1

The sky was covered with a blanket of dark clouds when Clara got off the bus in a secluded residential area of the city. The Soler family's house, a modern construction with huge windows and a minimalist facade, stood in the middle of a perfectly manicured garden. She took a deep breath, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. It was her first time babysitting, and although the pay was generous, she couldn't ignore the slight shiver that ran down her spine as she looked at the house. Something about it made her feel… small. She climbed the steps to the entrance and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Mariana Soler appeared, a woman in her forties, thin and elegant, but with a tired face. Her husband, Leonard, peeked out from behind her, checking his watch impatiently. —Thanks for coming, Clara —said Mariana with a tense smile—. The kids have already had dinner and are ready for bed. They just need someone to look after them while we're out. —No problem, Mrs. Soler —Clara replied, forcing herself to sound calm. —Call me Mariana —the woman corrected as she let her in. The interior of the house was even more impressive than the exterior: a huge living room with leather sofas, a 70-inch TV mounted on the wall, and a floating staircase leading to the second floor. The lighting was dim, casting long, distorted shadows on the marble floor. There were too many open spaces, too many dark corners. The children, Sophia (6 years old) and Thomas (4 years old), were in their pajamas in the living room, their small bodies sunk into the couch as they watched an animated movie. Sophia looked at her with distrust, while Thomas barely paid her any attention. —They don't usually have a babysitter —Mariana explained, noticing the discomfort—, but tonight is special. Clara didn't ask any more questions. She just smiled at the kids and greeted them in a friendly voice. —Well, we have to go —said Leonard, impatient. He approached his wife and whispered something Clara couldn't hear. Mariana nodded, then looked at the young girl. —If you need anything, the landline is in the kitchen. There are security cameras in the house, but they sometimes fail, so don't worry if you see something strange on the screens. The sentence hung in the air. Clara felt a shiver, but forced a smile and nodded. —No problem. The Solers quickly said goodbye and left. Clara listened to the sound of the car engine fading away until everything was completely silent. 9:30 p.m. The children went to bed without much protest. Clara tucked them in, left a small light on, and carefully closed the door. She went downstairs, running her fingers through her hair, and collapsed onto the living room couch. Too much silence. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the occasional creak of the house's structure could be heard. She took out her phone and started scrolling through social media. A message from her friend Paula appeared on the screen: 💬 ”How's it going in the haunted mansion? 😂” Clara smiled and replied: 💬 “Everything's quiet. A huge house and two sleeping kids. Easy money.” She turned on the TV, looking for a movie. Just as the opening music filled the room, the landline rang. The sudden noise made her jump. She turned toward the kitchen, where the cordless phone was blinking with a red light. Who would call at this hour? She got up, hesitating for a second before answering. —Hello? Silence. Then, heavy breathing. Clara frowned. —Hello? Who is this? Then, the voice: —Have you gone up to check on the kids? Clara's blood ran cold. Her first reaction was to laugh nervously. It must be Paula or some friend playing a prank on her. —Very funny —she said, hanging up with a sigh. She went back to the couch, trying to ignore the slight trembling in her hands. Don't freak out, Clara, she told herself. It's just a joke. But the phone rang again. She turned sharply, her chest tightening. She walked slowly to the kitchen and answered, with a sharper tone: —Who is this? —Have you gone up to check on the kids? Clara felt a shiver run down her spine. The voice was dry, mocking, and this time, clearer. —What do you want? —she said tensely. The laughter she heard on the other end of the line wasn't human. It was rough, irregular… as if someone was trying to imitate laughter but didn't know how to do it well. Clara hung up abruptly and hugged herself. It's nothing. It's just a joke. Her cell phone vibrated on the table. It was a message from Paula. 💬 “Hey, are you okay? Why did you call me?” Clara felt a knot in her stomach. 💬 “I didn't call you.” The landline rang again. The loud noise made her jump. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the receiver. —Please, stop calling —she said in a shaky voice. —I've already taken care of the kids… now I'm coming for you. The phone fell from her hands. The silence that followed was worse than the voice. Clara felt the cold spread across her skin. She slowly turned her head toward the staircase. The bedroom doors were open. She had closed them herself. The kids weren't making any noise. With her heart pounding in her chest, she climbed the stairs with trembling steps. First, she checked Thomas's room: the boy was sleeping peacefully in his bed, tucked in up to his chin. Then she looked into Sophia's room. The girl was awake, sitting on the bed, staring at the closet. Clara swallowed hard. —Sophia… what's wrong? Sophia didn't look at her. She just whispered: —He's not alone. Clara felt reality shrink in her chest. Behind her, the phone rang again. And this time, the sound was louder, more shrill… and it was coming from upstairs.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: You're Not Alone The sound of the phone echoed in the darkness like a sharp scream, vibrating in the walls, in Clara's bones. But that phone shouldn't be ringing. The only phone in the house was in the kitchen, on the ground floor. This was coming from upstairs. She felt a knot form in her stomach. Her breathing became shallow and ragged. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move. But then Sophia looked at her with wide eyes and whispered, trembling: —He's coming down. Clara felt a spasm of pure terror run down her back. He's coming down. Her body reacted before her mind. She quickly leaned down, picked up Sophia, and ran to Thomas's room. The boy was still asleep, unaware of the growing nightmare surrounding them. —Thomas, wake up… —she whispered urgently, shaking him. The boy groaned, stirring in bed, but the phone kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Until it stopped. Silence. He knew she had heard. Clara bit her lip until it almost bled. There was no time to think. She grabbed Thomas and ran out of the room. She had to get out of that house. Now. But when she reached the hallway, the light flickered… and went out completely. The world was plunged into absolute darkness. Then, footsteps. A muffled, slow sound… from above. Clara felt her legs freeze. It can't be. There's no third floor. Upstairs is just the attic. Another step. Closer. Sophia began to sob against her neck. Then, a dull thud on the ceiling, right above them. As if something heavy had fallen on the wood. Clara ran. She stumbled down the stairs, her heart pounding violently in her chest. She had to get out. She reached the front door. She turned the handle with all her strength. It didn't open. She tried again. Locked. The house's digital panel showed a blinking notification: 🔒 DOORS LOCKED FROM CENTRAL SYSTEM 🔒 —No, no, no, no! —she whispered, banging on the door in desperation. She hadn't activated any alarm. Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket. 📩 MESSAGE FROM UNKNOWN NUMBER With trembling fingers, she unlocked the screen. The message contained an attached image. Clara felt her skin crawl as she opened it. It was a photo… taken from inside the house. In the image, she was standing with her back to the camera, holding the kids in front of the door.

And right behind her, in the dimly lit hallway… a tall, thin figure was peeking out from the stairs. Her phone fell from her hands. —Clara, run! —Sophia screamed, clinging to her neck. A creak on the stairs made her react. Without thinking, she ran to the kitchen. The kids were crying, but Clara could only think about finding a way out. The windows had electric shutters closed. She couldn't break them. She grabbed a knife from the counter and tried to dial 911. But the phone had no signal. —Shit… shit… —she whispered, looking around. Suddenly, a sound behind her. A small “click”. The service door, which had been closed… was now slightly open. Someone had opened it from the outside. Then, the voice. Soft. Mocking. Close. —You can't leave now, Clara. The kids screamed. She turned sharply, knife in hand. But the hallway was empty. Absolute silence. Only the echo of the last word floating in the darkness. “Clara.” A whisper in the empty house. And then, the phone rang again. This time, it wasn't the landline. It was her cell phone. Vibrating on the floor, lighting up the kitchen with its blinking screen. INCOMING CALL 📞 911 Clara felt such deep relief that she almost cried. She hurried to pick up the phone and answered in a shaky voice. —Please, help me! There's someone in the house, I can't get out, he's here, he's— The voice on the other end cut her off with a sharp command: —Clara, get out of the house immediately! The calls are coming from inside! Her blood ran cold. —What… what did you say? —she whispered. —Run, Clara, get out now! He's in the house with you! A noise in the living room. Something big and heavy falling to the floor. Clara looked up. In the dim light of the living room, a dark silhouette emerged from behind the couch. Tall. Thin. Disproportionate. Its head tilted at an unnatural angle. And Clara could swear it was smiling.

Chapter 3

The world narrowed to a moment of absolute panic. The figure moved. It didn't walk. It slid its feet in the darkness, an unnatural movement, as if its body didn't follow the normal rules of physics. Clara felt her mind split in two. The kids screamed. She ran. She rushed through the kitchen, feeling the weight of the children in her arms, her breathing ragged, the knife still in her hand. She hid in the pantry, a small, windowless room. The only light came from her phone, which blinked with the emergency call still open. 📞 911 - Online —Hello? —she whispered desperately—. Please, help me! He's here! —Patrols are on their way, Clara. Stay hidden. Don't make a sound. Clara covered her mouth with her hand, trying to calm her breathing. Sophia clung to her chest, sobbing silently, while Thomas trembled in her arms. Then, footsteps in the kitchen. Soft. Slow. Exploring. Clara held her breath. The floor creaked under its weight. A few seconds of absolute silence. Then, the pantry doorknob began to turn slowly. Clara felt her heart stop. —I found you. The voice was a wet whisper, right behind the door. Clara couldn't take it anymore. She let go of the kids and gripped the knife tightly, ready to attack as soon as the door opened. But then… A sound at the entrance. The click of a lock opening. The sound of a key turning in the front door. A voice. —Clara? Time stopped. It was a man's voice. Familiar. Leonard Soler. The children's father. Clara felt a void in her stomach. What was happening? —Clara, are you here? —Mariana's voice, the mother, also sounded in the living room—. Why are the lights off? No. No. No. This didn't make sense. The Solers couldn't be here. They weren't the danger. Then, who had been calling her? Who was in the house? And in that instant, the pantry door burst open. Panic exploded inside Clara like a lightning bolt. She didn't think. She lunged with the knife raised, stabbing with all her strength. The blade sank into something soft and warm. A grunt of pain. A gasp. The knife slipped from her hands, and warm blood splattered her arms and face. And then, the hallway light turned on abruptly. Mr. Soler's face was revealed in the dim light, his eyes wide open, incredulous, torn by horror, staring at the knife stuck in his chest. —Clara… what…? His body fell heavily backward, crashing into the pantry shelves, knocking over glass jars and food packages. The silence was absolute. Clara froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled. Sophia screamed with all her might, her voice a howl of pure terror. And then, Mariana appeared at the door… and saw everything. —NO! —the woman's scream filled the entire house. Clara let out a choked gasp, staring at the scene with wide eyes. No. No. This couldn't be happening. She had killed the children's father. The Solers had come back early. They had entered quietly, not making noise to avoid waking the kids. And she, thinking it was the intruder, had killed him with her own hands. The knife still gleamed in his chest. The blood formed a black pool on the floor. The police sirens filled the street. Red and blue lights flashed through the windows. —What did you do? —Mariana whispered, her face completely broken by despair. But Clara couldn't answer. Because there, in the corner of the pantry, she saw something else. A shadow. Tall. Disproportionate. The figure of the man with the voice, the heavy breathing, the mocking gasp. It was standing in the dark corner, staring at her, its eyes glowing like two flashlights in the darkness. And then, it smiled. —I didn't do anything, Clara. —it whispered, tilting its head at an impossible angle—. You did it. And it started laughing. A distorted laugh. Inhuman. The police rushed in. Mariana's screams. The kids crying. The officers' hands grabbing her, taking the knife from her hands. But Clara didn't look away from the corner of the pantry. Because it was still there. But no one else could see it. —We'll meet again, Clara. And everything went black.

Epilogue

One year later… A psychiatric hospital. Room 302. Clara was sitting on the bed, her gaze lost, her wrists marked by the handcuffs the police had once put on her. Her hair was longer. More disheveled. Her lips moved silently. The doctors said she had persecutory delusions. That what she had seen wasn't real. That she had imagined everything. But Clara knew the truth. Sometimes, at night, when the lights flickered and the room darkened, she could hear it. Breathing. Laughing. Whispering her name. —Clara… She closed her eyes tightly. She covered her ears. She repeated to herself that it wasn't there. But then, the old phone on the wall rang. Riiiiing… Riiiiing… She never answered. But she knew what the voice would say if she did. ”Have you gone up to check on the kids?”

THE END. 🔪📞😱