I tripped at work (I’m a waitress) and tore a ligament in my knee. At the hospital, they put my leg in a cast and sent me home. My husband drove me, and he and my MIL helped me upstairs to my bedroom. They tucked me in, and I was genuinely grateful. But as they left the room, I heard a click—the door locking. “Hey! Hello? Collins?” I called. No answer. Worried, I grabbed my crutches and hobbled to the door. My fear was real—it was locked. But why would they do that? I looked for my phone… and froze. It was still in my bag—out in the hallway. I knocked lightly, trying not to sound panicked, but the house remained quiet, as though everyone had melted into the walls. Continue reading…
