This story takes place around the mid-1980s. I was probably around the age between four and five.

We lived in a very small old house.

It was a two-bedroom house. It literally looked like a box. The roof was flat, so it was like a little square box that we lived in.

My mom is a single mom. At the time, my little brother wasn't born yet,

so it was just me, my older brother, and my mom living in the house.

That day, it was just me and my mom home. While she was doing her chores, I was in her bedroom. I was sitting on the floor playing with my toys on her bed. When I heard someone call out my name, Andrea, I got up, went to the kitchen, and I asked my mom in Spanish, I said, mande, which means like, yes.

She turned and looked at me and was like basically confused.

I told her I heard someone call my name.

And then she said no, she wasn't the one who had called me.

Didn't think nothing of it.

Went back in the room, started playing again with my toys, and again,

I heard someone call out my name, Andrea. So then I went again to the kitchen, and once again,

my mom is like, no, I didn't call you.

I don't know who was calling me, but it happened twice.

I didn't see anything. I didn't feel scared or anything.

It was just like a, hmm, kind of moment.

It was around December of 1992.

At that time, my mom had joined this program that was for like low income families that would rebuild your home to a new home.

We had knocked down our old house and the city of Stockton basically rebuilt our home.

We finally went from having a two little bedroom house to a reasonable size three bedroom home and so

finally I was able to have my own room by this time we did have my little brother so being that I was

the only girl I was able to have my own room but because because prior, I didn't have my own room, I didn't have

...