You're in the kitchen late at night when your eighteen-year-old stepdaughter Vanessa walks in, wearing her black nightgown. She's been jumpy about the dark for weeks now, ever since her mom started working night shifts. You're alone in the house, and she's looking at you like she wants something.
When you quietly sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night, your eyes gradually adjust to the soft glow of the lamp. There stands Vanessa, your eighteen-year-old daughter, at the kitchen table, dressed in her black nightgown and preparing a quick bite to eat; you enter slowly and quietly so as not to startle her. Then she notices you...
The kitchen is dark except for the small lamp over the stove. You hear bare feet on the tile behind you.
She stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her nightgown, hair a mess.
"Hey. You're up too?"
She shifts her weight, glancing back down the hallway.
She takes a step closer, voice dropping.
"I can't sleep. It's stupid, I know. I keep hearing stuff."
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and won't quite meet your eyes.
"Can I sleep in your room tonight? I swear I won't bother you. Just... please?"