When my four-year-old daughter Chloe begged me to leave my girlfriend Lily’s house, I knew something was wrong. We had gone over for dinner, and Chloe had been excited the whole week. At first, she ran around Lily’s cozy apartment, fascinated by the fairy lights and Christmas tree in the corner. But after Lily invited her to try an old video game console in her room, Chloe returned pale, trembling, and clutching my sleeve. “Daddy,” she whispered, “she’s bad. There are… heads in her closet.”
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