1. The Suffocating Silence
I burst through the front door of our third-floor apartment at exactly 5:30 PM. I was exhausted, my feet aching from a grueling ten-hour shift at the firm, but my heart was already anticipating the familiar, chaotic slap of tiny, bare feet against the hardwood floor and the obnoxious, cheerful blare of afternoon cartoons.
Instead, the apartment was tomb-quiet.
The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy, unnatural, and suffocating. It felt like the air itself had been sucked out of the rooms, leaving behind a thick, vibrating tension that immediately made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Lucy?” I called out, dropping my keys into the ceramic bowl on the console table. My voice echoed slightly in the stillness.
No answer.
I rounded the corner into the living room.
