Have You Checked on the Children?

It was quiet in the suburban neighborhood of South Gust. Naomi Long a twenty-two-year-old college student and part time babysitter was spending time alone at home this weekend. She turned down a babysitting job tonight to study for finals and to enjoy the peaceful evening. Naomi had pizza delivered, had a random movie on in the background and texted a friend to let them know she would be staying inside for the night. With her laptop on her lap Naomi began reviewing the notes she had typed up from each handout her teachers had given her.

In the middle of reviewing her notes Naomi's phone rang. She glanced over at it a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Picking it up she looks at the screen unknown number on the front. Tapping the front, she placed it to her ear and answered “Hello?”. Eerie static on the other end crackled as a calm voice asked her “Have you checked on the children?”.

Furrowing her brow Naomi looked at the screen ending the call deciding it must have been someone who called the wrong number. Setting her phone down she goes back to her notes when her stomach growls at her. Now would be the best time to heat up some of that pizza she ordered in the oven. Naomi leans against the counter waiting with her arms crossed looking at the TV in the living room. When the timer goes off, she gets the pizza out with an oven mitt and transfers a couple of slices to a plate.

Grabbing a cola out of the fridge Naomi sits down in the living room. Getting comfortable on the sofa with a slice in hand her phone rings again. Reaching for it with a free hand she sees the unknown number on the screen. Rolling her eyes she taps the phone icon and answers the call “Hello?”. The eerie and crackling static filled her ear before a calm voice asked her “Have you checked on the children?” the line clicks going silent.

Unsettled Naomi sets the phone down trying to brush it off as someone playing a prank.

As the night goes on the calls continued. They kept asking her the same question. Or sometimes telling her things such as “You're supposed to be watching them!” with urgency behind the words. Then other times telling her “The children are not safe! Why aren't you checking on them?!” when checking her phone history there was no record of these calls. Naomi decided to contact the police, but they were unable to trace these unknown calls unless an actual crime was in progress.

She lets out a frustrated sigh Naomi tosses her phone to the side. Rubbing her hands over her face she looks up at the ceiling watching as the power flickers all around her. The faint sound of childlike laughter and followed by footsteps heading upstairs startles her. Naomi jerks her head in the direction of the sound heart thumping in her ears. Who was in here with her?

After all she lived alone in this apartment. Standing up she walks towards the stairs going up them one at a time. Naomi steps on something that crinkles under her bare foot. Leaning down to pick it up she examines the paper. It was a child's drawing that she had never seen before.

Peering up to the landing she squints her eyes not seeing anyone there. Naomi makes her way back down to the living room and sets the drawing onto the coffee table. She picks up her phone going through her old contacts. Naomi was able to find one from a family she previously babysits for. Calling them she does not get an answer.

Waing a moment Naomi tries calling again. The woman who answers her is panicked as she speaks to her. Naomi is told that the children are missing and the babysitter that they had hired never showed up. This worries Naomi since she had grown attached to these children she usually sat for. The line beeped with a busy tone before the call ends.

Getting ready to set her phone down it rings making her jump. Answering she places it to her ear a voice speaking to her through that now all too familiar crackling static. “It is too late now Naomi. You did not go to check on the children.” it was raspy and spoke in a low whisper. The lights go out as the call ends, and something begins moving in her apartment. Grabbing the baseball bat, she keeps next to the stairs Naomi begins her ascent.

Walking across the landing she checks each open door until she made her way to the end. This room she used for storage and always kept locked. Yet, when she tried the handle, it opened with ease. Pushing it open with the tip of her bat Naomi slowly stepped inside. Along the walls were glowing children's handprints.

In the center of the room leaning against the walls is a mirror. Gazing into this mirror Naomi could see that it did not reflect the room she was in. It showed her a room she did not have with children in it. Naomi reached out to the mirror slowly the tips of her fingers grazing the surface. Closing her eyes she pushed her hand against it sinking inside the mirror itself.

When Naomi wakes up, she is laying on the floor of a room she does not recognize. A baby monitor buzzes nearby. That all too familiar crackle static sound she had been hearing from those earlier phone calls. Standing Naomi walked over to the baby monitor hearing faint talking through the static. She adjusted the channel button and could now clearly hear the voice trying to come through.

“Now let's try this again Naomi.”

"W-what…” her voice came out in a shuddering whisper. Naomi did not understand what was going on. Or how she was here inside the room within the mirror. Was this not her first time here? How come she did not remember?

Naomi's head began to spin as all these questions swirled around in her head.

The voice spoke to her in a low timbre slowly almost hypnotizing “Close your eyes Naomi and you can start over from the beginning. Try to remember what happened that day.”

She closed her eyes gripping the baby monitor close to her chest. Naomi inhaled through her mouth and then slowly exhaled out her nose. “Now open your eyes and tell me what you see.”

Shakily she opened her eyes looking at her surrounding dropping the monitor in her hands and slowly backed away from the center of the room. There in front of her was a gory mess of limbs and viscera. Naomi saw herself hacking away at something or someone covered from head to toe in blood. The self before her stopped what it was doing and slowly turned its head around to look at her with a crooked smile on its face. Naomi's chest hurt and her throat tightened, and she began shaking digging her fingernails into the wall behind her she let out a shrill scream.

The phycologist left the room, his face drained of color, clipboard tightly clutched in his hand and voice recorder turned off. Finally, they had a breakthrough after all these years. Naomi Long had admitted to the murder of the Hopkins children, the ones she was supposed to be protecting.

Dr. Reid paused in the hallway, the very weight of Naomi's words still echoing in his mind.

Though as he looked back at the closed door, a chill crept up his spine. He hoped that the truth would bring the Hopkins family peace. Because what Naomi said before the tape stopped was not in the confession.