She recorded everything in her notebook—locations, times, exact temperature shifts—it didn’t prove anything yet but it was a breadcrumb that she could trail along and reach her answers. By the time she finished, the sky had darkened to a deep indigo, the house draped in stillness.
On her laptop, the motion sensors blinked in steady intervals, and the camera feed streamed back a quiet patch of garden, waiting for something to stir. She sat on the edge of her bed, body heavy with exhaustion, until she drifted into a deep slumber.
When Rose woke the next morning, her body moved before her thoughts did. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and went straight for the laptop. The motion sensor logs were the first thing she checked. Every door, every window—untouched. Not a single breach recorded.
That didn’t make sense. The temperature drops, the camera feed, the crushed garden—something had to have triggered a sensor. Her fingers tapped impatiently as she scrolled through the data again. Still nothing. Disappointed, she sighed and clicked over to the camera footage, her last hope for answers.