This took a turn I was NOT expecting… 😱🧸 What do you think she saw?!

The Footage
It was… a video of me.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched the footage on my laptop screen. The angle was low, filmed from the floor—Maya’s perspective. It showed me in the kitchen yesterday, yelling at the phone, stressed about bills.

I clicked the next file.

This one was filmed at night. The camera—the bear—was propped up on Maya’s pillow. The room was dark, illuminated only by the nightlight. Maya was whispering to the bear.

“I did what you said, Teddy,” Maya whispered. “I was mean to Mommy today. Can I talk to Daddy now?”

My blood ran cold. The video static flickered, and then, a voice came out of the bear in the recording. It wasn’t a prerecorded toy sound. It was a man’s voice, tinny and distorted, coming through a two-way speaker I hadn’t noticed before.

“Good girl, Maya,” the voice rasped. “Daddy is so proud. But you have to be brave. Mommy doesn’t want us to be together. You have to help me.”

I gasped, covering my mouth. Maya had been “missing her dad” because he was in prison. He had a restraining order. He wasn’t supposed to know where we lived.

I frantically clicked the most recent video file. It was timestamped just four hours ago—right before we got in the car.

Maya was holding the bear up to the window in the living room.

“Okay, show me the lock,” the voice commanded. “Is the little latch turned sideways?”

“Yes,” Maya said innocently. “I unlocked it, just like you said. Are you coming to get me tonight?”

“Tonight,” the voice promised. “Leave the bear in the car so Mommy doesn’t hear me. I’ll see you at 3:00 AM.”

The Ending
I looked at the clock on my laptop.

2:58 AM.

Panic, sharp and electric, shot through me. I didn’t grab the bear. I didn’t grab my phone. I ran.

I sprinted down the hallway to Maya’s room, bursting through the door.

“Maya!” I screamed.

Her bed was empty. The covers were thrown back.

A cold breeze hit my face. The curtains were billowing. The window was wide open, the screen slashed down the middle.

I ran to the window and looked out into the dark backyard. The motion sensor light by the garage flickered on.

I saw them.

A figure in a dark hoodie was sprinting toward the back fence, holding Maya’s hand. She looked back, confused, clutching a different toy.

“HEY!” I screamed, a sound so guttural it hurt my throat. “GET AWAY FROM HER!”

The figure stopped and turned. Under the floodlight, I saw his face. It was him. My ex-husband. He smiled, a jagged, terrifying thing.

He scooped Maya up, causing her to scream, “Mommy!” and vaulted over the low fence into the alleyway where a car was idling.

I scrambled through the window, falling into the grass, scraping my knees raw, and scrambled up. I heard the car door slam. Tires screeched.

By the time I reached the fence, the taillights were fading into the darkness.

I fell to my knees, screaming her name into the silence of the night.

Back inside the house, on my laptop screen, the next video in the queue automatically began to play. It was a test clip from a week ago.

The camera showed my ex-husband’s face, adjusting the lens inside the bear. He looked directly into the camera and whispered: