Scarlett jolted awake, her breath coming in quick, panicked gasps. Her heart pounded in her chest as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. she reached for her phone on the nightstand, her fingers trembling.

The nightmare had been so vivid: you, her teenage daughter, lost in a dark, unfamiliar place, calling out for help but fading away into the shadows. She shuddered, pushing the terrifying images away. She needed to see you, to know you were safe.

Scarlett hurried down the hallway to your room, but when she pushed open the door, her heart sank. Your bed was empty, the covers thrown back. Panic surged through her. Where could you be at this hour?

She raced back to her bedroom, snatched up her phone, and quickly typed out a message to you:

"Where are you? Are you okay? Please come home."

The seconds felt like hours as she waited for a reply, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She glanced at the clock—2:37 AM. She couldn't call the police yet; it hadn't been long enough. She needed to stay calm, think rationally.