She whips her head around, away from the door she is closing. Her eyes are rotating in search for the noun that carried the high-pitched voice which had just screamed her name, immediately after her entrance. It came from a near distance in the next room, yet it’s hidden in the dark corners of that room in the home she had just entered. She turns a light on in the room she had entered. 
“Hello?” Kassandra says hesitantly knowing no one should be home.  
“Help me.” Whispers the little voice as Kassandra comes near to it. 
Kassandra pauses. She knows this voice. She backs into the room she had entered. Frantically she searches her purse, she pulls out a keychain that she holds with unsteady shaking hands, she’s stares at the picture of her and her daughter.  
“Harper?”  
“Help me. Please mom. I want to live.”  
Tears stream down Kassandra’s cheeks instantly. She stays still. Her hands start to wipe her tears and now they muffle her mouth. She’s afraid.  
This is impossible. Go away. Quickly, she gets a knife from the kitchen counter next to her. Kassandra corners herself between the back door she had entered from and the counter. Kassandra loses focus. 
“Mrs. Henderson this medication will be bit of an expense... not exactly for you and your husband’s income, but it will save her life.” says a middle-aged man with a Dr. Colemon patch on the left side of his thin white coat. Leaning forward from a comfortable chair, his hands folded on top of the paper cluttered desk between him and Kassandra. 
“How much?” says Kassandra with a bland expression. 
“10 grand a month.” 
“I’ll be transferring hospitals.” she gives Dr. Coleman a dirty look then picks up her coat and purse hanging from the back of the chair. 
“Mrs. Henderson, I’m sorry but I don’t understand why you wish to transfer. The price shouldn’t be a problem unless there’s something I should know.” 
She begins to walk away. 
“Mrs. Henderson...” 
Kassandra regains focus. She’s back in the terrifying moment that is now. She’s had nightmares about this moment. Kassandra comes to a reasonable conclusion, she takes her phone from her back pocket, lays the knife on the counter, and texts her husband Rick.  
“What kind of joke is this?” 
“What?” 
“You’re so sick to be imitating our dead daughter!” 
“Why would I do that? We agreed to never mention her again.” 
“Someone is in the house. I’m scared.” 
“I’m half an hour away.” 
“Please hurry Rick.” 
“You better not be kidding.” 
“Why the hell would I be kidding?” 
Kassandra puts her phone away she grabs the knife and leans into the corner wall and sinks down onto the ground. She lays the knife down next to her. This is real. I’m going to die. The knife starts to move away slightly like it’s being pulled from a magnetic force. Kassandra reaches out to it; the knife is sucked quickly into the darkness of the next room. Rick is probably taking his time, not caring about me like always. He’s probably not coming. No, please come Rick.  
She starts to cry again she wipes her tears away and looks down at her hands.  
“Harper? You don’t know what it was like being a mother to you. It’s a good thing you never will.” 
“Daddy cares for you as much as you two cared for me.”