At first, I thought he just needed to go outside.
Murphy usually nudges me or paws the edge of the mattress when he wants something. But that morning, he wasn’t moving—just standing there, frozen, ears slightly back, eyes locked on my face like he was trying to tell me something.
I groaned and rolled over, still half-asleep, muttering something about “five more minutes.”
But then I realized something weird.
He wasn’t looking at me. Not exactly. His head was tilted just slightly… downward. Toward the space under my bed.
I sat up fast, heart already picking up. Murphy didn’t move.
I whispered his name. He glanced at me, briefly, then looked back down.
I don’t know what made me do it, but I swung my legs off the side, lowered my head, and slowly leaned down until my cheek was almost touching the mattress.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the shadows.
That’s when I saw it. Or—her.
A pair of wide, terrified eyes stared back at me from the darkness. A girl. No older than twelve. Curled up tightly, like a rabbit in a burrow, her small hands gripping the bed frame.
I yelped and jumped back so hard I smacked my shoulder on the nightstand. Murphy didn’t even flinch. He just stayed where he was, staring.
I scrambled to my feet, confused and a little shaky. My voice came out sharp and cracked. “Who are you?”
The girl didn’t answer. Her lips moved like she was trying to say something, but no sound came out. She just looked… scared. Not wild, not dangerous. Just scared.
