The Footprints Behind Me

Sunday afternoon was supposed to be the day I finally brought my daughter home.

Instead, it became the day I discovered something I still can’t explain.

I climbed over my ex-wife’s old fence after hearing my daughter’s cries from the backyard. The place looked abandoned, but the sound was unmistakable.

When I reached the pool area, I saw her.

She was trapped inside a rusted metal cage.

I grabbed the bars and pulled with everything I had. The metal groaned, but it wouldn’t open. Desperate, I found a heavy piece of wood nearby and smashed the lock.

The door finally gave way.

I rushed inside and pulled my daughter into my arms.

“Daddy!”

She wrapped her arms around my neck so tightly that I could barely breathe.

I turned toward the house, ready to run.

Then she suddenly dug her fingernails into my shoulder.

“Daddy…”

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“He made me watch.”

I froze.

“Watch what?”

She pointed toward the swimming pool.

“He put Mommy in the water.”

The Black Shape

I slowly turned toward the pool.

The water was dark and completely still. Leaves and dirt covered much of the surface.

At first, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.

Then I saw it.

Something large was beneath the water.

It had the unmistakable shape of a human body.

A black plastic bag covered it from head to toe.

My stomach dropped.

I held my daughter tighter.

“Don’t look,” I whispered.

But before I could move, something else caught my attention.

Footprints.

Fresh, wet footprints crossed the concrete beside the pool.

One after another.

They led away from the water.

Toward the house.

I followed them with my eyes.

Then I realized something that made my blood run cold.

The footprints didn’t lead toward the house.

They led directly toward me.

Someone Was Behind Me

I stopped breathing.

My daughter suddenly became completely silent.

I could hear water dripping somewhere behind me.

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

I slowly turned my head.

Nothing.

The backyard appeared empty.

But the footprints continued.

There were several of them now.

And they were getting closer.

My daughter buried her face against my chest.

“Daddy,” she whispered.

“What?”

“He’s here.”

A cold breath touched the back of my neck.

I spun around.

Nothing was there.

Then I heard a voice from the house.

A voice I hadn’t heard in years.

My ex-wife’s voice.

“Take our daughter and run.”

I stared at the dark windows.

My daughter began crying.

Because she recognized the voice too.

And then, from inside the house, something slammed against the front door.

Once.

Twice.

Then again.

I picked my daughter up and ran.

I didn’t look back.

But as I reached the gate, I heard footsteps following us across the yard.

Wet footsteps.

Slow footsteps.

And they were getting faster.

I finally understood what my daughter had been trying to tell me.

Whatever had put her mother into that pool…

hadn’t stayed in the water.