/nosleep: My Father's Nanny Cam [Part 1.] - revfitz.com

/nosleep: My Father’s Nanny Cam [Part 1.]

I didn’t notice the nanny cam for a few days. My mother recently remarried, and her new husband moved in about a month ago. I refuse to call him dad. Please don’t think that this is normal teenage angst. I have good reasons not to.

My stepfather is a creep. Even before they married I would notice him leering at me a little too long, or find him looking for excuses to be near me when my mother was gone. My mother would wave this away when I would bring it up to her. She would tell me that no man was good enough for her in my eyes and that I was inventing excuses as to why she should leave him. It was very frustrating.

…And a little scary.

I found myself uncomfortable in my own house, in the house that I grew up in. I had decided to move out the moment that I could, but graduation is still a whole season away. So I will have to suffer until at least then.

I have been spending less and less time at home. Any excuse I can to be away from him I take. Maybe that’s why I did not notice it at first.

I’m starting to wonder if I regret noticing it at all.

School had got out early because of an electrical problem that day and I decided to go straight home. It would be nice to be alone in the house for a change as both my mother and stepfather were working. I could finally be in my own home and not worry about being watched or objectified.

Like I said, the house was empty, and there was nothing there to keep me company save for a few dust motes dancing in the sun’s rays. It was quiet, even serene. I went to my room to change and got my top off before I saw it.

In the corner of my room, slightly buried by all of my old stuffed animals was a stuffed bear I did not recognize. I don’t remember anyone gifting it to me or buying it myself, it was just there and it was faced right where I sleep. I picked it up, and that’s when I noticed that it had a camera in it.

That fucking camera.

I knew immediately that my creepy, perverted stepfather had placed it. I wanted to scream in rage, wanted to cry, I wanted to leave. I ripped the bear open, happy knowing that there was probably an easier way to get to the camera but was happy for the catharsis of it and found the SD card it was dumping its files to. It goes without saying that I locked my door.

I brought the SD card over to my laptop, I had to see what the bastard was recording.

It was not at all what I was expecting.

The first thing I saw was his creepy god damn face as he set the bear up in my room. Right away I saw him pause near my panty drawer, but he walked out of the room then. I skipped ahead.

Most of the footage was of nothing. Like I said, I have not been spending much time home. I, of course, saw what I feared I would. Minutes of me undressing, of me naked. It made me sick to my stomach. Dread had made permanent residence in my being. I skipped ahead.

I watched it at 4x the speed, and night fell. I watched as I studied, totally unaware that there was an audience to my actions. I watched as I spent more time on my phone than I should have. Then I slept. I left my laptop open. I was going to skip over this part, see if he had footage of me dressing or getting out of the shower in the morning when I saw it.

In one frame there was nothing, in another, it was there. Perched on top of my dresser, looking at me as I slept was the figure of a small child. As my chest heaved with breath, it squatted on top of my drawer. Perfectly still.

I could not see a face, only shadow. It was almost as if it was just a child shaped hole. Even the light of my laptop reflected nothing onto it.

It was there for hours.

As I tossed and turned. As my sheets were thrown off by my movements and as I moved in a manic 4x speed I watched as it stayed perfectly still. I watched as it watched me. From 2 AM to 4 AM it stayed put. Then it was gone.

That was the first night.

I skipped over a large chunk. Not caring about scenes of me naked anymore. I went straight to the next night.

It was back. 2 AM, right on the dot. Except for this time I woke up. My movements seemed mechanical. I rose straight up and out of bed, and turned directly to the shadow child. Its “head” followed my movement. There is no microphone on the spy cam, but I could see my lips moving. For ten minutes I talked to it (no idea if it could talk back). I remember none of this.

I went back to bed. It watched. 4 AM and it was gone.

I skipped ahead to the third night.

1:59 it is not there. 2:00 it is on my dresser. I wake up and once more I talk with it. For the first time I see it do something other than stare, it brought it’s arm upward in a sharp and quick movement, I watched as it pointed at my door. I looked to where it was pointing, and then I left my room. It followed. 4: AM I returned, my clothes muddy and my hair disheveled. I remember none of this. I watched as I undressed and put my clothes in my hamper and go back to sleep. This was this morning.

I didn’t know what to do. I checked my hamper after the video ran out and found the clothing I was wearing still with mud on it. Except some of it was darker than mud, some of it was a dried crimson. I hope to god that it is not blood.

I don’t know who to turn to. I don’t want to sleep here. I just know that at some point my stepfather is going to retrieve his camera and then…

…And then I don’t know. I’m going to confront him about this.

Wish me luck.

[Part 2.]

 


The original /nosleep.  Narrated version.

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Rev. Fitz
M.P. Fitzgerald (Rev. Fitz) is an author, illustrator, and amateur Mad Scientist who lives in Seattle.

2 Comments

  1. There’s something to be said about being jumpscared by a piece of prose. It happens rarely, and there was something about this that managed to pull it off perfectly. I think I have to point at the description of “squatting” on the dresser, since that is the combination of words that registered accompanied by a little thrill of adrenaline. It was like that damn thing poofed right in front of me for all that I saw it coming, despite knowing I was in for a horror story. Oof, just something about that image sent chills across the back of my neck, even before the lack of a face.

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