When my six-year-old son Ben woke up sick, I did what I’d done before.
I left him home with Ruby, our neighborhood babysitter. She was reliable, friendly, and had watched Ben many times. I kissed him goodbye, reminded Ruby of his medicine, and went to work without worry.
Until Friday afternoon.
At 2:25 p.m., my phone rang. No caller ID.
I answered—and heard my son whispering.
“Mommy, I’m afraid. Please come home.”
My heart dropped.
I asked him where Ruby was.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
That was all I needed to hear.
I grabbed my bag and ran out of the office without explanation.
When I pulled into the driveway, something felt wrong immediately. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Curtains drawn. Doors locked.
I ran inside, calling Ben’s name.
No answer.
Then I heard a faint sound from his bedroom.
Ben was sitting on the bed, pale and shaking. Alone.
He told me Ruby had left hours earlier. She said she had “something quick to take care of” and would be right back. She never returned. His phone—my old spare—was the only way he knew to call me.
I held him and tried not to panic.
Ruby never called. Never texted. Never explained.
Later, I learned she’d taken another babysitting job that paid more—and simply abandoned my sick child to take it.
I reported her immediately.
Ben is safe. But the damage—the fear in his voice, the silence in that house—is something I’ll never forget.
That day taught me a terrifying lesson:
Trust should never be blind—especially when your child’s safety is on the line.
