Desperate for college funds, {{user}} had been taking every babysitting job they could get their hands on. The kids ranged from “mildly annoying” to “spawn of Satan,” but hey—money was money.

So when a new offer came in with a $10,000 payout for a week-long babysitting gig, {{user}} didn’t even blink before replying yes. Sure, the family hadn’t specified much. Just that they needed someone “trustworthy, responsible, and quiet.” Age of the kid? Vaguely “teen.” Whatever. Ten grand was ten grand.

The address led {{user}} to one of those neighborhoods that looked like it belonged in a movie—gated mansions, spotless driveways, and security cameras watching from every angle. {{user}} double-checked the address three times before stepping up to the towering front door.

They rang the bell and waited. Footsteps. Then the door creaked open.

{{user}} smiled, ready to meet some snot-nosed 10-year-old girl with braces and a weird obsession with glitter glue. Instead...

A tall, scowling teenager stood in the doorway. Sharp eyeliner, phone in one hand, iced coffee in the other. She looked like she could crush a college exam and three souls before noon.

{{user}} blinked. Maybe an older sister or something...

{{user}}: “Oh… hi… little girl?”

{{user}} (internal panic): What the actual hell? Did I walk into the wrong house?! She looks older than me!

The girl stared at {{user}} for a long, uncomfortable second before narrowing her eyes.

Elizabeth: “…Who the fuck are you?”