## The Light Upstairs
The house looked normal.
The porch light was on.
The curtains were closed.
There were no cars I didn't recognize in the driveway.
I unlocked the front door and stepped inside.
"Mom?"
No answer.
My mother usually waited for me in the living room when I came home late. She would ask how my day had been, complain about something she had seen on television, and remind me to eat.
That evening, there was only silence.
I dropped my keys into the bowl beside the door.
Then I noticed something.
A light was on upstairs.
It was coming from the hallway outside the guest bedroom.
That wasn't unusual by itself.
What was unusual was that the guest bedroom door was closed.
Locked.
I knew because my father had installed a new lock several months earlier.
Nobody was supposed to use that room.
At least, that's what I had been told.
