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“Oh, shoot!” I whisper-shout as I roll out of bed. “I’m late for work!” I quickly get ready for work and prepare breakfast for my two daughters, Amy and Chloe. The babysitter was supposed to arrive anytime now. As I was to take my first sip of my morning coffee, the doorbell rang. “It must be the new babysitter!” my daughters exclaimed together. The babysitter that we usually have over wasn’t available, for a long time actually, which was kind of strange. When I open up the door, a girl with a big smile and piercing blue eyes is right in front of me.
“Hi! My name is Christie Maxwell. I am the babysitter for today!”
“Great!” I say. Then I quickly fill her in on all the info that she would need for the day.
“Your children are in good hands!” She said with a big smile.
I say goodbye to my kids and Christie, and then get in my car and head for work.
Around lunch time, I receive a call. The caller ID is the number to my house, so I figured it was Christie. However, the voice on the phone didn’t sound like Christie. The voice—well, voices were full of fear and panic. The voices sounded like two young girls. My daughters.
“Help us. She is coming. Help us. Please. Oh no, I hear her. Don’t let her get us Mommy. Help u—”
Then the call got cut off. A chill trickles down my back. I quickly left work before anyone could see me sneaking out, and got in my car. Despite how fast I was driving, each second in the car felt like an hour has passed. A plethora of thoughts floated in my head.
What was that call?
Who are they talking about?
Are the girls safe?
Am I safe?
I finally arrive at my home. As soon as I whip open the door, I yell. “Amy! Chloe! Christie!” No response. I venture into the kitchen, and my heart drops into my boots. Blood. Blood everywhere. I take out my phone to contact police, but I was interrupted by an ear piercing scream coming from the basement. I was terrified. For Amy. For Chloe. For me.
I get downstairs and what I saw was a sight that would traumatize me for the rest of my life. The lifeless, pale bodies of my daughters on the floor in a large pool of their own blood.
I immediately drop to my knees and burst into tears, wailing in sadness. Behind me a familiar voice chuckles behind me. A chuckle filled with evil and hatred. I turn around slowly to see a girl with piercing blue eyes, and a blue smile.
“You came back,” the girl says.
That girl, I realized, was Christie.
My mouth opens, but I can’t seem to get the words out.
“I admire your bravery, but looks like you’ll end up in hell with your daughter, with me, and the other demons.”
I remain speechless. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My ears. Myself.
Christie pulls a knife from out of her pocket, and swings at me. I dodge it (thankfully), then out of the corner of my eye, I can see my sister. Her jaw dropped to the floor when see saw the crime scene.
“Thank god you’re here! I—”
I stare back in front of me where. Christie was standing. Well, where she was supposed to be standing. Christie has vanished without a trace.
“Why! Why did you kill your own kids?!” My sister exclaims. It sure looked like that, alright. The knife somehow ended up in my hand and I was surrounded around Amy and Chloe’s dead bodies.
I was frantically trying to explain the whole Christie situation, but she wouldn’t believe me, no matter how hard I pleaded. Things went on from there. I was framed for the murder of my daughters. However, I was determined not guilty due to insanity. I was admitted to the mental asylum. They all thought I was crazy. When I explained about Christie, they said she couldn’t have killed them. Christie Maxwell died in 1734 according to the judges.