The Revenge
I patiently tried to explain. “Honey, that’s just how she helps you fall asleep. Once you’re sleeping, she lays you down on your bed.”
She nodded, though I wasn’t sure she understood.
The next morning, a message appeared in the preschool parents’ group chat. It was from Lily Miller’s mother. She said that after her daughter fell asleep last night, she never woke up again.
She was dead.
I told myself it was just a tragic accident.
But then, one by one, the children in my daughter’s class began to die in their sleep.
And everyone finally realized this wasn’t an accident. It was a long-awaited, meticulously planned revenge.
1
My daughter, Joy, was curled up beside me, begging for one more story. I’d just finished Little Red Riding Hood, and I added my usual warning about strangers being wolves in disguise.
“Okay, Mommy,” she chirped sweetly.
I gently patted her back, urging her to sleep.
“Mommy, my teacher pats us, too,” she said, her eyes suddenly snapping open. The abruptness of it startled me.
Still, I kept my voice soft. “Does she pat you just like Mommy does?”
Joy sat up and shook her head. “No. Before our afternoon nap, she holds each of us and pats us. After she pats you to death, she puts you on your little bed.”
She described it with such vivid innocence.
I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. My neighbor, a preschool teacher, used to tell me funny stories about the things kids say. I never thought I’d hear one from my own daughter.
“Sweetheart,” I explained gently, “she’s just helping you fall asleep. When you’re sleeping, she puts you down for your nap. She’s not ‘patting you to death.’”
She seemed to accept that, finally lying down to sleep. I stretched, ready to turn in myself. Before bed, I did my usual scroll through social media.
I saw a new post from Joy’s homeroom teacher. It was just a single character:
Today was the first day of school for the little ones. It must have been chaos. The number probably meant she’d survived day one. I was exhausted after a day with just one child; I couldn't imagine handling twenty of them with only two other teachers.
Feeling a pang of sympathy, I liked her post, scrolled a little more, and then turned off my phone, letting sleep take over.
2
The alarm blared the next morning. I scrambled to get Joy dressed and ready for school. Just as we were about to leave, I saw a notification from the parent group chat.
Assuming it was a morning announcement from the teacher, I opened it. But it was a message from a parent listed as “Lily Miller’s Mom.”
[My daughter came home yesterday saying she was sleepy. She didn’t even eat dinner, just went straight to bed. This morning, I couldn't wake her up. I checked on her and… she wasn’t breathing. She’s gone.]
My mind immediately flashed back to what Joy had said last night.
Could she have been telling the truth?
The group chat exploded. Parents flooded the chat with condolences, asking what had happened. Lily’s mom quickly sent a voice message.
[My daughter has always been perfectly healthy. She was fine when I dropped her off yesterday. But when she came home, all she did was complain about being tired. Her father and I just thought she was worn out from her first day. We didn't think anything of it.]
[I never imagined she would just… pass away in her sleep. We just want to know what she ate at school. What happened? We need an explanation from the teachers!]
Her voice was choked with sobs. As a mother, my heart broke for her. I sent a simple hug emoji. She replied with a quiet “thank you.”
Finally, the homeroom teacher responded.
[Mrs. Miller, what Lily ate and drank yesterday was the same as all the other children. She did not fall or injure herself in any way. If you require the school's security footage, we are prepared to provide it.]
The reply felt so cold, so devoid of empathy. A child in her class dies after her first day of school, and the teacher offers not a single word of comfort—just a clinical, defensive offer of surveillance footage, as if her only concern was deflecting blame.
I was about to type something in support of Lily’s mom, but I saw the teacher had already removed her from the group.
An official announcement immediately followed: [Group chat is for school-related discussions only. Please be mindful of this policy.]
[Understood.]
[Understood.]
…
The replies cascaded down the screen. I knew it was useless to say anything now, so I quietly added my own [Understood.] to the chain.
We were running late. Pushing the tragedy of Lily Miller from my mind, I hurried Joy to the preschool. Her teacher was there to greet us. Joy clutched her hand, her lip trembling as she gave me a reluctant goodbye.
I waved, promising I’d be the first one there to pick her up, offered the teacher a polite smile, and turned to leave.
3
Back home, I couldn’t settle. I kept checking the group chat, my stomach in knots.
But it was silent. No one mentioned Lily again.
It was just an accident, I told myself, over and over. A horrible, tragic accident.
4
I arrived at the preschool well before dismissal time, my anxiety getting the better of me. As I approached the school gates, I heard it: the sounds of a raw, heart-wrenching wail.
The voice was familiar. It sounded like Lily’s mom from the voice message.
I parked my scooter and moved closer. A group of people held a large banner that read: OUR DAUGHTER DIED AFTER ONE DAY AT THIS SCHOOL. WE DEMAND JUSTICE!
It was Lily’s family.
A crowd of onlookers was filming with their phones while school security guards tried to clear a path. “It’s dismissal time,” one of the guards pleaded. “You’re blocking the entrance for other parents. Please move to the side.”
Other parents, anxious to retrieve their children, started to complain. “Come on, the teacher already said in the group chat that the school wasn’t responsible. Don’t hold the rest of us up.”
Lily’s mom whipped her head around to face the parent who had spoken. I recognized her from her profile picture—it was Lisa Davis’s mom, the first one to reply “Understood” in the chat.
“Easy for you to say,” Lily’s mom snarled, her eyes burning with hatred. “You have no compassion. Let’s see you say that when it’s your daughter who’s dead.”
The venom in her gaze made my blood run cold. Joy’s words echoed in my head again.
No, no, it can’t be. I pushed the thought away. Lily’s death was an accident.
“How dare you say something so vile?” Lisa’s mom shrieked, her face turning crimson. “Just because your daughter had bad luck, you’re going to curse mine?” If another parent hadn’t held her back, I think she would have slapped her.
I couldn’t stand to hear her talk like that. What mother could bear to hear her child spoken of so cruelly?
Lily’s mom certainly couldn’t. She threw down her sign and lunged at Lisa’s mom. The other woman flinched, screaming for security.
The scene descended into chaos. I didn’t want to be late picking up Joy, so I slipped past the commotion and into the school. I collected my daughter from her teacher, and we headed back out.
The two mothers were still screaming at each other.
Joy heard Lily’s name and whispered, “Mommy, was Lily the one the teacher patted to death?”
My heart stopped. “Why do you say that, honey?”
“Because she was the first one the teacher patted yesterday,” she answered, her face a mask of pure innocence.
A horrifying impulse took over. I asked a second question. “Who was the second one?”
Joy thought for a moment. “It was Lisa,” she said.
Lisa.
My eyes darted back to Lisa’s mom, still caught in the screaming match. I debated whether I should say something, try to warn her. But this wasn’t the time or place.
“You have a good memory, sweetie,” I said, bending down to her level. “But let’s keep that our little secret, okay?”
She nodded, and I put her on the back of my scooter, my mind racing as we drove home.
5
That night, after Joy was asleep, I found Lisa’s mom in the group chat and sent her a friend request. She accepted almost immediately.
I relayed what my daughter had told me and asked if Lisa had seemed unusual when she got home.
Her response was a voice message. I pressed play, and the first thing I heard was a string of curses directed at my own mother. She then proceeded to curse my entire family line, accusing me of teaming up with Lily’s mom to jinx her daughter.
So much for trying to help. No good deed goes unpunished.
Furious, I closed the chat and went to browse my social media feed. Coincidentally, Joy’s teacher had posted again tonight. Just a single character:
Day two survived?
A seed of doubt began to sprout. What if the numbers meant something else? But I had no proof, nothing to go on. I ignored the post and tried to put it out of my mind.
But the next morning, another parent spoke up in the group chat. This time it was a father, Jake Thompson’s dad.
[This is getting weird. My son came home yesterday just like Lily, saying he was exhausted. He fell asleep and never woke up. His mother and I found him this morning… he was already stiff.]
[I’m starting to think there’s something seriously wrong with this school!]
Panic erupted in the chat.
[No way. This can’t be more than a coincidence, right?]
[Don’t scaremonger. How could someone just kill children like that?]
[But it’s too much of a coincidence.]
It wasn’t Lisa.
Did that mean Joy’s story was unrelated to these deaths?
I hesitantly asked my daughter again, “Sweetie, are you sure Lisa was the second child the teacher put to sleep?”
Joy looked at me with wide, confused eyes, trying to remember. I didn’t want to pressure her. I prayed it was all just a coincidence. Because if Joy’s story was true, she could be in danger too.
But her next words filled me with absolute terror. “Miss Chen patted Lily first. But Miss Li patted Jake first. Then Miss Chen patted Lisa…”
Two teachers. Patting children at the same time.
The sequence was correct.
First Lily, then Jake. Which meant the third would be… Lisa.
But why? Why would the teachers do this? And what was I going to do about my daughter?
6
My hands trembled as I opened my chat with Lisa’s mom again. I stared at our conversation, my heart pounding. I couldn’t just stand by and let a little girl die.
I typed out a message, connecting everything: what Joy had told me, the sequence of deaths, the teacher’s cryptic posts. I urged her to watch Lisa closely tonight. Based on what happened to Lily and Jake, Lisa would probably be exhausted.
[Clara, I don't know what I ever did to you, but why are you so obsessed with cursing my daughter?] Her voice message was practically a scream.
She also sent a photo of her daughter sitting at the dinner table, drinking a glass of milk, looking perfectly fine.
[Lily and Jake’s deaths were accidents! And the teacher’s posts are just numbers! You have a sick imagination. If you send me one more of these crazy messages, I swear I’ll forward our entire conversation to the teachers and let you explain your insane theories to them.]
Lisa was fine?
So Lily and Jake’s deaths really were accidents?
Maybe I was just being paranoid. The last thing I wanted was to be singled out by the teachers and have Joy ostracized because of my overactive imagination.
[No, no, please don’t!] I quickly sent a voice message back, pleading. [You’re right, it’s a misunderstanding. Just pretend I never said anything. There’s no need to involve the teachers.]
It took her a long time to reply. [You know, Clara, I think you’re just way too sensitive. Guilty conscience got you on edge?]
[Don’t you dare accuse me of anything!] I shot back. [I was just trying to be helpful because I didn’t want anything to happen to your daughter. Is it too much to ask for you to not bite my head off for it?]
[Well, nothing’s wrong, so what are you so worked up about?] she replied dismissively.
I quickly exited our chat and put my phone away.
Joy tugged on my sleeve. “Mommy, why are you sweating so much?”
I snapped back to reality, forcing a gentle smile as I stroked her cheek. “It’s nothing, sweetie. Mommy’s fine. Can I ask you something? Which number were you, when the teacher put you to sleep?”
She tilted her head, looking adorable. “I was after Lisa! Miss Li held me and helped me sleep. She said I was a good girl!”
That’s right. Every day, Joy would come home and tell me how wonderful all three teachers were, and how much they liked her. They didn't seem like monsters who would harm innocent children. Besides, they had only known these kids for a few weeks. What reason could they possibly have to hate them enough to kill them?
A wave of relief washed over me.
7
The next morning, as I walked Joy to the preschool, I heard another commotion near the entrance. I tightened my grip on her hand. As we got closer, I saw it was Lily’s mother and Jake’s father. They were demanding answers from the school.
“Our children died at home after spending just one day here. I remember something like this happened at this very school over twenty years ago! This place must be haunted! We demand to speak to the director!”
I couldn’t help but stop and watch. The director never appeared. Instead, she sent security guards to escort the two grieving parents inside. The entrance slowly returned to normal. I didn’t want to linger. I quickly handed Joy over to her teacher and went home.
8
Back home, I scrolled through the parent group chat to see what I’d missed. They’d been talking a lot. One parent brought up the incident from two decades ago.
[Charlotte’s Dad]: You know, what if this place is actually haunted?
[Charlotte’s Dad]: Yeah. I went to this preschool when I was a kid. A girl in one of the classes came home from school looking pale, went to sleep, and just never woke up. This was over 20 years ago.
[Charlotte’s Dad]: At first, her family didn’t think much of it. The girl had a congenital heart condition, so they assumed that was the cause.
[Charlotte’s Dad]: But then the next day, another girl from her class died the same way. And the day after, a third. That’s when the parents knew something was wrong and called the police.
[Lisa’s Mom]: What happened then?
[Charlotte’s Dad]: The story goes that the girls were all very pretty, and there was this rich little princess in their class who was jealous. During naptime, she would bully them, jumping up and down on them until their internal organs were crushed. That's how they died.
[Charlotte’s Dad]: But the girl’s family was wealthy. They bribed the director, and since there were no security cameras back then, she got away with it. They just transferred her to another school like nothing ever happened.
A wave of shock and disgust filled the chat. Then, one mother asked: [What was that girl’s name? It wasn’t one of our teachers, was it?]
[Charlotte’s Dad]: I think her last name started with a W. Her first name was Clara.
[Lisa’s Mom]: That name sounds familiar… I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere…
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