A call for help
Indecision gnawed at me. But how could I gamble with my daughter’s life? The note’s warning echoed in my head, yet maternal instinct proved louder than any threat. I dialed 911 with trembling fingers, the numbers a lifeline. “Please, you need to come quietly,” I urged into the receiver, my voice barely above a whisper. “My daughter… she’s been… someone was here.” The dispatcher’s voice was calm, a stark contrast to the maelstrom within me.