Ashton:
“Wake up, Ashton!” I heard my mother whisper, yelling. Her breaths were coming from her chapped lips in puffs of harsh fog.
“What is it, mom?” I asked, rubbing her bare shoulders. It was the dead of winter, and our power had been shut off. The gas heat was empty, and the fridge was too.
“They’re listening, Ashton. They’re listening in the walls.” She was digging her nails into her thighs.
“It’s okay, mom. Just lay back down with me and—”
“NO!” she swatted me away, her hands shaking from a mix of her fear and the cold in our home.
“They’re here!” She screamed again while taking my cheeks into her ice-cold hands.
“Okay, Mom, okay. I will get them out of the house. I promise.” I stood from the mountain of blankets, listening as she babbled about the baseboards, whispering.
