I Prayed for a Miracle, Now I Lock My Door Against My Son

I didn’t press anything.

I just whispered, “Please. Please don’t.”

And then, like he heard me through the wood, he spoke in a voice that was not my Tyler’s and not even fully human—flat, hungry, curious.

“Open.”

I didn’t answer.

The doorknob turned again, slower this time. Testing. Studying.

“Open,” he repeated, louder.

And then the patience snapped.

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