I was ten years old when my family locked me inside our empty house, drove away, and never looked back.

I still remember the exact shade of the living room wall that morning. Pale blue, with a small scratch near the baseboard where my sister Jessica had dragged her suitcase. I sat on the floor, hugging my knees, waiting for someone to call my name.

It was moving day.

Boxes were stacked everywhere. The air smelled like cardboard and dust. My parents, Doug and Carol Mitchell, had been packing for weeks. This was supposed to be our fresh start.

My dad’s voice echoed from the front porch. ‘Jessica, get in the car!’

My mom rushed past me with a tape gun. Her hair was falling out of her bun. She looked tired, but happy. ‘Caleb, honey, stay right here for a minute. We need to do one last walkthrough of the yard.’

I nodded. ‘Okay, Mom.’

She smiled at me quickly. I thought she meant it.

I watched her walk out the front door. That was the last time I ever saw my family together.

Then I heard car doors slamming.

I stood up and walked to the big living room window. Through the glass, I saw our old blue sedan packed with boxes and suitcases. Jessica was in the back seat, looking at her phone. Dad was adjusting the mirror. Mom got into the passenger seat.

At first, I didn’t panic. I thought maybe they were just getting comfortable. Maybe they were waiting for me.

So I waved.

Nobody looked at the house.

I tapped on the glass with my knuckles. ‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘I’m still in here!’

The car started to move.

My heart stopped for a second. Then it started pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears. I banged on the window with both fists.

‘No, please, don’t leave without me!’ I screamed. ‘Dad! Mom! Jessica! I’m here! You left me behind! Come back!’

The car kept