Anderson's POV
The cartoon stopped.
One second the dinosaurs were chasing each other across the screen, roaring and smashing into trees.
The next second…
Silence.
I looked up from the floor, confused.
That wasn't how cartoons usually ended. They normally faded out with music or someone shouting something funny.
But this time the sound just… disappeared.
The screen was still on.
The dinosaurs were still moving.
But there was no noise.
Not even a little.
I blinked and grabbed the remote.
Maybe I pressed something by mistake.
I turned the volume up.
Nothing.
I turned it down.
Still nothing.
The huge living room suddenly felt bigger than before.
Too big.
When the house is quiet, the quiet doesn't feel normal. It feels like something is waiting.
I looked toward the staircase.
"Mom?" I called.
My voice echoed a little.
No answer.
Mom had gone upstairs earlier. I heard her walking around in her room after she left the kitchen.
She didn't sound happy.
She usually didn't.
I waited a few seconds.
Then I called again.
"Mom!"
Still nothing.
I pressed a button on the remote again and suddenly the cartoon music exploded back to life.
I jumped.
The sound was so loud it felt like someone had shouted right next to my ear.
I turned the volume down quickly.
That was weird.
The TV had never done that before.
For a moment I tried to keep watching the show, but something about the house felt different now.
Like when you're alone in your bedroom and suddenly realize someone might be standing outside your door.
You don't hear anything.
But you feel it.
A few seconds later I heard footsteps upstairs.
Mom.
She was moving fast.
Then she appeared at the top of the staircase.
Her hair was messy like she had run her fingers through it too many times.
"Anderson," she said.
Her voice sounded strange.
Not angry.
Not exactly scared either.
Just tight.
"Yeah?"
"Did you hear something?"
I frowned.
"Hear what?"
She came down the stairs slowly, looking around the living room like she was checking something.
"A noise," she said. "Like someone walking."
I shook my head.
"No."
The cartoon dinosaurs smashed into each other again and started yelling.
Mom glanced at the television.
"How long has that been on?"
"Since breakfast."
She stared at the screen for a second, like she was thinking about something.
Then she looked back at me.
"You didn't hear anything around the house?"
"No."
Her eyes moved toward the hallway that led to the kitchen.
Then toward the big glass windows.
Then back to the staircase.
For a moment she looked like she was listening very carefully.
The house stayed quiet.
Except for the TV.
Mom finally exhaled slowly.
"Maybe I imagined it," she said.
But she didn't sound convinced.
I muted the television again.
The room instantly fell silent.
Mom looked at me.
"Why did you do that?"
"So we can listen."
She didn't say anything.
We both sat there.
Listening.
The mansion was so big that sometimes it made noises by itself.
Pipes clicking.
Wood shifting.
Wind hitting the glass walls.
But right now…
Nothing.
Just silence.
After about thirty seconds I turned the TV sound back on.
Mom rubbed her temples.
"Alright," she said quietly. "Maybe it was nothing."
She turned toward the kitchen.
"I'm going to make some coffee."
"Okay."
She walked away slowly.
But I noticed something.
She didn't go all the way into the kitchen.
She stopped halfway.
And looked back toward the staircase again.
Like she expected something to happen.
I watched her for a few seconds.
Then I looked back at the TV.
The dinosaurs were still running around like nothing had happened.
But now I couldn't focus on them.
Because Mom almost never asked questions like that.
Did you hear someone walking?
That wasn't normal.
I muted the TV again.
The silence returned.
This time it felt heavier.
Like the house was holding its breath.
Then—
A faint thump came from somewhere.
My head snapped toward the hallway.
"Mom?"
She stepped back into the living room instantly.
"You heard that too?"
I nodded.
"Yeah."
Her face changed slightly.
Not panic.
But definitely alert.
"Stay here," she said.
"Why?"
"I'm just checking something."
"Checking what?"
She didn't answer.
She walked slowly toward the hallway.
I didn't like that.
The hallway was darker than the rest of the house because the windows were farther away.
It always felt colder there.
Mom reached the corner and paused.
"Mom?" I whispered.
"I'm fine," she said.
But she didn't sound fine.
She looked down the hallway carefully.
Then she took another step.
Another.
The floor creaked faintly.
For a second I wondered if that was the sound she had heard earlier.
Maybe the house was just old.
But then she stopped again.
Her shoulders stiffened.
"What?" I asked.
She didn't respond.
I stood up slowly.
The TV screen flashed colorful light behind me, but the room itself felt darker now.
"Mom?"
She turned around.
Her eyes looked different.
Sharp.
Focused.
"Did you move something in the hallway earlier?" she asked.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She stared at me for a second longer.
Then she looked back toward the hallway.
"There's a door open."
"What door?"
"The storage room."
I blinked.
We almost never used that room.
Old boxes were inside it.
Furniture.
Things Dad used to keep.
"Maybe you left it open," I said.
"No," she said quietly.
"I closed it yesterday."
That made my stomach feel weird.
Mom stepped closer to the door.
It was slightly open.
Just a crack.
Like someone had pushed it recently.
She slowly pushed it wider.
The hinges creaked softly.
We both looked inside.
Boxes.
Old chairs.
Nothing moving.
Mom stepped inside.
She looked around carefully.
Then she walked back out again.
"See?" I said. "Nothing."
She didn't respond.
She just stood there looking at the room again.
Then she closed the door firmly.
The click of the latch sounded louder than it should have.
For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
Finally she turned back toward the living room.
"Alright," she said. "Maybe the wind opened it."
"Yeah," I said.
But something about the way she said it made me think she didn't believe that.
She walked past me and picked up the remote.
The cartoon volume went up again.
"Keep watching," she said.
"I'm going to finish making coffee."
"Okay."
She disappeared into the kitchen again.
I sat down on the rug.
But I didn't really watch the TV.
Instead I kept looking toward the hallway.
Waiting.
Listening.
The cartoon dinosaurs kept yelling and running.
But underneath the noise…
The house still felt strange.
Like something had almost happened.
Then—
The doorbell rang.
I jumped.
Mom's head popped out of the kitchen instantly.
"Who's that?" she asked.
"I don't know!"
The doorbell rang again.
Mom walked to the front door slowly.
She checked the security screen first.
Then she opened it.
A man stood outside wearing a delivery uniform.
"Package for Ivy Carter," he said.
Mom frowned slightly.
"I wasn't expecting anything."
He shrugged.
"Signature required."
She signed the small digital screen and took the box.
It wasn't very big.
Maybe the size of a shoebox.
The delivery man nodded and walked away.
Mom closed the door.
For a moment she just stood there staring at the package.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I don't know."
She turned the box slowly in her hands.
No company logo.
No return address.
Just her name.
Printed clearly on the label.
Mom's fingers paused on the tape.
Something inside the box shifted slightly.
A faint sound.
Like something sliding.
Mom looked up at me.
Her expression had changed again.
The tight feeling had returned.
"Did you order something?" she asked.
I shook my head.
"No."
Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.
Then she slowly started peeling the tape.
And right before the lid opened…
Something inside the box moved again.