Dear Mommy,
It's 1:35 now.
I truly hope that it's only me causing myself to be this fearful. I'm always fearful now, it seems. Not a single noise can pass without me thinking it's something worse than it actually is. But after all this time, don't you think I have a reason for that?
Now, you aren't here to tell me how stupid I'm being.
I'm writing this letter because I'm blind in this situation, and for all I know a monster could be lurking behind the corner. If nothing happens — I'll delete it. If something does — I'll leave it as a warning for you to get as far away from here as possible.
You'll be safe, then.
A little earlier, it sounded like the plastic you had set up was rustling. That was when I first got scared and turned off the lights in my panic. It sounded like...you were here.
That's a terrifying thought given that you left three hours ago and I have no way of contacting you, since you took my phone.
But there's nothing you can do about it now. Just...when you get home, please tell me what these noises are. I don't want to be scared anymore.
It sounds like it's coming from the front door now, which is just below where I am.