Dear diary,
No one is going to believe me, but I just need to let someone know. If this page gets found, please share my story so no woman or man has to go through what I have.
My story starts in my house around the dining table with my husband and three children. My husband is an engineer and works for companies that make 3D artificial intelligence. While scooping some mashed potato and throwing it on his plate, he brings up a new project. “Yeah, so at work today we made a prototype of our new AI house maid.” He then took a big mouthful of mash and peas.
I joked, “We could use one of them.”
“I mean,” my husband said after a moment of silence, “we did need a family to test it out on, and it would be free…”
I nodded and told him that he could bring it home. Then my seven-year-old decided to spill her juice all over her food, so we did not get much time to discuss it.
The next day at around 4:30, my husband walked through the door with what looked like a statue. “Ta-daaa!!” he exclaimed.
I stayed silent. “It’s our new maid?”
It just freaked me out. She had long blonde hair and a perfectly ironed uniform. “This will come in handy,” I mumbled sarcastically.
The first week of having her, our house was cleaner than it had ever been. However, the second week everything changed, and life at home became strange… very strange. Ivy (that’s what my children decided to name her) started walking around the house, even when we had turned her power off for the night. It was almost like having another human in the house. My husband also told me that she was watching him while he slept, and my eldest (who is 14 and a boy) told me the exact same thing.
It was like she had feelings for my husband. She also tried flirting with him while I was right there, but what creeped me out the most was how she seemed to hate me. After three weeks of having her, I was eating her cooking when I suddenly had a really bad allergic reaction and was rushed to the hospital. I have been deathly allergic to honey since I was five, to the point where I don’t keep it in the house. Where Ivy got it perplexed me the most. My husband had told me that she was not programmed to feel anything.
When I got home, she tried to suffocate me in my sleep, hovering inches over my face. Now, everyone is out, and I am hiding in the closet with my husband’s engineering tablet, trying to shut her down.
Footsteps are stopping outside. The door just swung open. Ivy is standing there, her eyes flashing crimson, unhinging her jaw to scream right into my face—