My Daughter’s Phone Call from the Past

When I received a call from my daughter, Aurora Wilken, I shot up in bed and stepped on the cold floor with my bare feet.

“Aurora, is that really you? It’s Mom.”

The line crackled with static before her voice grew clearer.

“Mom, didn’t we just pay the electric bill yesterday? The power went out. I’m so scared. Where are you, Mom? Please come home.”

It was my daughter’s voice!

There was no mistaking it!

Wait!

A power outage?

A sudden rush of fear seized me, and my breath quickened.

Three years ago, the power in our building mysteriously went out the day Aurora died.

She was murdered in our own home. Even in her final moments, she was waiting for me.

However, I was stuck at the office and occupied with an important project. I could not get back to her.

I told her to wait with a flashlight. Then, I called my husband, Sam Wilken, and asked him to go home instead.

Aurora was twelve, and she had just finished sixth grade. She was enjoying her first summer break without homework.

I had promised to take her to Disneyland, but all that awaited me was her cold body.

I pinched myself hard, and the pain was sharp.

I did not know what was happening, but I knew I was not dreaming.

Whoever it was on the other end of that call, I could not let her get hurt again.

“Aurora, lock the front door and enter my bedroom. Then, slip into the compartment under the bed. Do not open the door for anyone!”

The bed in the master bedroom was custom-made. I did not want an open space beneath it to collect dust and make cleaning a pain.

However, a fully solid base would have been a waste of materials and space too. So, I had a hidden storage compartment built right into the frame.

A panel was also installed to keep dust out. From the surface, it looked as if the bed sat flush against the floor.

I heard rustling on the line, followed by my daughter’s hushed voice. “What if it’s you or Daddy knocking?”

I could not take that risk and had to remove every possible danger.

“Your dad and I have keys. Don’t worry, honey. I’ll find a way home soon.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll wait for you.”

My daughter told me it was 2:50 a.m. on her end.

I remembered that the coroner’s report stated her time of death was 3 a.m.

So, I told her not to make a sound and to dim the light on her phone.

Touching my forehead, I realized that I was burning up.

Yet, my palms and back were slick with cold sweat.

As I fumbled through the nightstand for fever medication and painkillers, my mind tried to come up with a way to get Aurora out of danger.

If she could call me from three years ago, could I also call my past self?

However, her smartwatch was set up to only make calls or send texts.

If I hung up and tried to call again, the ringtone would give us away.

Texting would be too slow.

So, I could only try texting myself and Sam from three years ago. I could urge us to rush home and save Aurora.

In the heavy silence, all I could hear was the sound of Aurora and I breathing in sync.

A minute passed, then another, before I received a notification.

I actually got a reply!

However, it was the same text I had sent out earlier.

Then, three WhatsApp messages from my husband arrived one after the other.

[Aurora’s been dead for three years!

[What’s wrong with you?

[Don’t go anywhere. Stay put. I’ll be home soon.]

The WhatsApp notifications echoed in my head.

I could feel a throbbing pain, and my skull felt like it was splitting.

What could I do? I could not reach myself or Sam from three years ago.

What could I do to save Aurora?