Dad's message finally came through. Dad: "the hallway ceiling vent is open. there's a phone taped up inside it. it's still recording." The police found sleeping bags in the crawlspace above our bedrooms. Food wrappers. A charger spliced into our wiring. Someone had been living over our heads for weeks, listening to us fall asleep. They never caught him. We all deleted the app. It doesn't matter. Every night at 9:41, right when Mom used to say goodnight in the chat, my phone still buzzes once. I've stopped checking what it says.