When my four-year-old daughter, Chloe, begged to leave my girlfriend Lily’s house, I knew something was wrong. Her fear was real, and I couldn’t ignore it.Chloe and I had been on our own since her mother left, and three months ago, I met Lily. She was warm, kind, and Chloe seemed to like her—until that night.
We arrived at Lily’s cozy apartment, and Chloe was excited. Lily invited her to play an old video game in her room while we prepared dinner. Moments later, Chloe returned, pale and trembling.“Daddy, we have to go,” she whispered. “There are… heads in her closet. Real heads.”My heart pounded. Was it her imagination, or had she seen something terrible? I didn’t take chances—I scooped her up and left, making an excuse to Lily.