In my early twenties, I would babysit a set of twins. Their mom was beautiful, and she was always going on dates. One night, she went on a date and said she’d be back around midnight.
7 a.m. and she still wasn’t back. I found her parents’ number in an address book.
I called them and explained the situation as calmly as I could. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then her father said, “Stay there. We’re on our way.” They lived about an hour away.
I kept the twins occupied with cereal and cartoons while checking my phone every five minutes. When her parents arrived, they didn’t look surprised. Her mom hugged me and went straight to the kids, while her dad asked if I’d seen or heard anything unusual.
I said no, just that she hadn’t texted or called. They thanked me and said I could go, but something about the whole thing felt off. I stayed a bit longer, pretending to tidy up, just in case they needed help.
Then I heard her mom say quietly, “Not again.” That made me freeze. Later that day, I got a message from an unknown number. It just said, “Thank you for watching over them.
–L.” I assumed it was her, but I never heard from her again after that. Days turned into weeks. No one contacted me.
No one explained anything. Eventually, I went to the police. I wasn’t a family member, so they wouldn’t tell me much.
But they did say she was officially listed as missing. No car found. No phone signals.
Just vanished. I kept thinking about the twins. They were only three, bubbly and innocent.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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