I had just hopped off my computer and slipped into my bed, next to my husband, Eugene.
A few minutes later, my daughter, Amy, came in, and I sat up. "Are you alright?" I said to her, as she walked over.
"I wanna sleep here with you, mommy," she replied. I let her in, between me and Eugene. Soon she was asleep, and I drifted off also.
Around two in the morning, I woke up to a thud coming from my husband's side of the bed.
"Did I wake you up?" my husband said, a bit deeper of a voice, however. I brushed it off, thinking he was sleepy.
"Yeah, but it's alright. What happened?" I asked him.
"Rolled off the bed, I think I will go get a drink." I heard him going out of the room into the kitchen and went back to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up. It was 8:30. I looked around, and I guess my husband had woken up and taken Amy to school. So I walked into the kitchen and made some coffee and breakfast.
At 9:30, someone from the school called.
"Hello, Mrs. Carter. Your daughter, Amy, isn't at school today. Is she sick?" I was thoroughly surprised.
"She... didn't arrive at school? I thought that my husband took her..." I said slowly, about to have a panic attack.
"Yes, she didn't turn up at school."
My stomach turned. "E-excuse me," I said, and hung up. I immediately dialed the police.
A few minutes later, the police were at my house, searching. But it wasn't long until they found something.
In Amy's room, in her toy box, there was the mutilated torso and head of my husband; blood staining the sides of the box, a happy smile slit across his throat, his arms and legs found under the mattress.
My daughter was found only a minute later, in the closet; her eyes and stomach ripped out, her hair hanging her from the ceiling.
They have interrogated me over and over, and they think I am the one that did it. That I imagined that person who had fallen in the middle of the night. They say there was no way that someone had gotten in, because there was no evidence of a break-in.
And now I have matched the one with the voice to his face. It was the one who had sat right in front of me, asked me questions.
The one who has condemned me to a life of insanity, here, trapped within these blank white walls.