My Son Kept Saying Someone Was Watching Him at Night – So I Installed a Camera

And then, a dark silhouette stepped into the room.

The silhouette moved slowly, almost carefully, and I forgot how to breathe.

I froze in front of the screen, my fingers digging into the edge of the laptop. The figure stepped farther into Sam’s room, and the faint light from the hallway caught the side of his face.

Darren.

My ex-husband. Sam’s father. Thirty-five years old, broad-shouldered, familiar down to the way he tilted his head when he was thinking.

For one wild second, I thought I had to be wrong. I leaned closer, staring until my eyes burned, hoping the image would change into someone else. But it did not. It was Darren. He stood beside our son’s bed in the dark, completely silent, just looking at him.

A chill ran through me so hard that my teeth clicked together.

On the screen, Darren stayed there for several long seconds.

Then he crouched slightly, as if he wanted to get closer without waking Sam. He reached out, not quite touching him, then pulled his hand back.

A moment later, he turned and slipped out.

The door stayed open behind him.

I replayed it three times, each viewing making me feel worse, not better. My fear had not been invented. Sam had been telling the truth. Someone had been watching him at night.

His own father.

I grabbed my phone and called Darren immediately. He picked up on the fourth ring, his voice rough with sleep or maybe irritation.

“Lara?”