Chapter 7: Clarity Returns

Chapter 7 · ~3.2k words

Chapter 7: Clarity Returns

I woke up sharp.

There was no gradual ascent from sleep, no sticky residue of chemical fog clinging to my brain. My eyes snapped open, and the world was instantly, startlingly clear. The hum of the refrigerator. The dust motes dancing in a shaft of morning light. The steady throb of my incision, no longer muffled by the yellow pill's heavy blanket.

I lay still, cataloging the sensations. My legs felt like my own again. My thoughts weren't wading through molasses. I was back.

The door was unlocked. I could see the sliver of space where the latch hadn't caught. Mark must have been careless when he left for work. Or maybe he just assumed the "medication" had done its job.

I sat up. The pain was real, sharp and breath-stealing, but it was manageable because my mind was my own. I swung my legs out of bed.

Downstairs, the shower hissed to life. Chloe.

Mark had left at seven. The baby was likely in her swing in the living room—I could hear the faint, tinny melody of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." That meant I had twenty minutes. Maybe less.

I grabbed the tablet from the nightstand. Mark had "accidentally" forgotten to take it downstairs last night. A small mercy. Or a trap. I didn't care.

I opened the Smart Hub app. My fingers flew across the screen, no longer clumsy sausages but precise instruments.

*System Log.*

I needed to know when they were coming in. When they were locking the door. I needed a pattern.

The log populated instantly. A list of dry, digital facts.

*07:05 - Front Door - Locked (User: Mark)*
*07:00 - Garage Door - Closed*
*06:45 - Kitchen Lights - On (Motion)*

I scrolled back. Last night.

*22:15 - Master Bedroom Door - Locked (User: Mark)*
*22:14 - Master Bedroom Lights - Off*

The timestamps matched my memory. But then I saw it.

*03:00 - Nursery Door - Open.*

I froze. 3:00 AM. I had been asleep. Drugged. But someone had gone into the nursery.

I looked for the corresponding entry.

*03:00 - Nursery Motion Sensor - No Event.*

My breath caught. How could the door open without triggering the motion sensor inside? The sensor covered the entire room. Unless...

Unless someone opened the door but didn't go in.

Or unless the sensor had been disabled.

I tapped on the sensor settings. *Status: Active.*

I went back to the log. 3:00 AM.

*03:00 - Nursery Door - Open.*
*03:05 - Nursery Door - Closed.*

Five minutes. Someone stood at the door for five minutes. Watching my daughter. But never stepping inside.

Or maybe they stepped inside and the system didn't see them.

I scrolled back further. The night before.

*03:00 - Nursery Door - Open.*
*03:00 - Nursery Motion Sensor - No Event.*

A pattern. Every night at 3:00 AM.

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. It was a digital ghost. A glitch. Or a blind spot.

I tapped on the camera feed for the nursery. The screen showed the empty crib, the mobile hanging still.

But there was something else. In the corner of the frame, near the window. A small, dark shape that shouldn't be there. A shadow that didn't match the furniture.

I zoomed in. The pixels blurred, then sharpened.

It was a piece of black electrical tape. Placed precisely over the motion sensor lens.

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