My grandson Owen came up from the pale, shadowed basement.
\u201cPack a bag. Now,\u201d he said, his voice tense and urgent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had discovered a hidden device connected to the heating system: someone had tampered with it to slowly fill my bedroom with carbon monoxide at night. Not to kill me quickly, but to make me sick, confused\u2026 until death could be written off as \u201cnatural.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We left the house in a rush. My son kept calling, frantic. Owen told me not to answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was then I realized a horrifying truth:
I had never truly been safe in my own home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n