Tom sat upright in his hospital bed, the room quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. His eyes were red and distant—he hadn't slept properly since Amy's death.
Nana sat close beside him, her hand gripping his. Her sharp eyes never left his face, quietly scanning the monitors and the door.
A knock sounded.
Two officers stepped inside: Officer Francis, tall with sharp eyes, and Deputy Murphy, carrying a small notebook.
"Tom," Francis said gently, "we need to ask you a few questions about what happened."
Tom swallowed hard. Nana's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I… I already told Dr. Holliday everything," he whispered.
"We know," Murphy replied, pulling up a chair. "But we need to hear it from you ourselves. Just take your time."
Tom's fingers trembled. Nana leaned closer. "It's okay, baby. Just breathe. I'm right here," she whispered.
"I… I went back to return Amy's bag," Tom began, voice shaking. "Her street… it didn't feel right. The door was open just a little… I heard…" His voice cracked.
Nana squeezed his shoulder, silently telling him to keep going.
"The men… pig masks… they were hurting her. I tried to call 911… but then someone shot at me. My phone… it was destroyed. I ran… and then…"
He trailed off, the tears streaming down his face. Nana hugged him, rubbing his back. "It's okay, baby. You're safe now."
Francis and Murphy leaned in. "Tom… any details—clothes, voices, anything unusual—could help us catch them. Take your time."
Tom shook his head. "I didn't see faces… nothing… everything was wrong… like the night itself was alive."
Nana rested her hand on his forehead, brushing damp hair from his face. "Breathe, baby. Focus on me. You're not alone."
Dr. Holliday stood nearby, ready with a mild sedative if Tom became overwhelmed. Nana's presence calmed him just enough to continue, and slowly he recounted everything the officers needed.
After what felt like hours, Francis closed his notebook."That's all for now. Think carefully, Tom. Anything you remember could help catch them."
The officers left. The room fell silent.
Tom's chest tightened. Nana held him close. "It's over for now, baby. We'll get through this," she whispered.
A Few Days Later — The Funeral
Hillridge Cemetery was cold. Gray skies pressed down over the mourners.
Amy's white casket rested at the center. Friends and neighbors stood in silence, some wiping tears. Nana held Tom's hand tightly as he approached the casket.
Lucy stayed close to him, trembling silently. Tom's eyes searched the crowd—Daniel wasn't there.
Nana pulled Tom closer. "It's okay, baby. Breathe. Let yourself feel it… but you're safe."
Tom swallowed hard, feeling the crushing weight of grief, guilt, and Daniel's absence. Lucy buried her face into his chest. Nana's arm circled both of them.
The ceremony ended, but the heaviness didn't lift. Tom felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. Something about that night, about Daniel not being there… told him this was far from over.
And deep down, he knew it.
Back at Home
Weeks had passed since the funeral, but Tom's mind refused to rest.
He jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering. Shadows in his bedroom twisted as if alive, remnants of the nightmare still lingering.
Nana burst in instantly."Tom! Baby, breathe! You're safe," she said, gripping his shoulders, grounding him.
Tom's hands shook. "It felt… so real," he whispered.
"I know, baby. I know," Nana murmured. "Come on, let's get some breakfast. You need to eat."
Breakfast and the Electronics
The kitchen smelled of toast and coffee, but Tom couldn't shake the lingering unease.
Then it happened. His senses sharpened — the pulse surged through him again. Every electronic device in the house stirred under his awareness.
Nana's phone buzzing on the counter
Her laptop softly humming on the table
The TV in the living room, a silent black screen
The microwave, the small speakers, even the old digital clock ticking away
Tom could see and hear everything. Every tap, every swipe, every ping and notification — before they even happened. The devices almost felt alive, whispering secrets to him.
He realized the buzzing of Nana's phone wasn't ordinary. It was a signal — urgent, insistent. Something about it made his chest tighten, like a warning.
Nana picked up the phone, frowning at the screen. "Who's calling me this early?" she muttered, unaware that Tom could see every message, every movement on the screen.
Tom's pulse raced. He understood, in that strange, new way, that the nightmare was far from over — and now, he had the ability to sense the world through electronics.
Deep down, he knew: everything had changed.