Who could it be?It's one in the morning, and this house is buried deep in a dense, dark forest, far from anywhere anyone normal should be at this hour. The thought unsettles me. Possibilities start parading through my mind, each more unlikely than the last. Maybe someone got lost—a hiker who took the wrong trail and ended up here. Or maybe it's a driver whose car broke down on the road, desperately looking for help.
But none of those explanations fit quite right. Who would choose to seek refuge in an isolated house like this, in the dead of night? Something's off. My gut tells me this is no coincidence, that whoever's out there didn't end up here by chance.
And that puts me in a bind. If I open the door and this person finds out what's happening here, my secret will be in danger. If they call the police or even mention having been here to someone, it'll only be a matter of time before they connect the dots. I can't afford that risk. Not now.
As I drown in these thoughts, the sound of knocking echoes again. This time it's louder, more insistent. It's not the polite knock of someone waiting patiently; it's the pounding of someone trying to get attention or, worse yet, convey urgency.
My muscles tense. My mind races, weighing options, but each one I consider feels more desperate than the last. I don't have time to move Sarah's body. Even with the tarp covering her, if someone steps inside and looks around, there's no way to hide it all.
The knocking booms again, this time joined by a voice. It's male, deep, though muffled by the door."Hello? Is anyone home?"The tone isn't exactly friendly, but it's not aggressive either. It sounds practical, direct—like this person doesn't have time for niceties. My mind processes the information quickly. The voice is strong and confident, which means whoever it is, they're not scared or hesitant. That complicates things. He doesn't seem like someone who'll just leave without an answer.
For a moment, I stand frozen in front of the door, my heart pounding in my chest with a deafening rhythm. The possibilities pile up in my head. If I ignore the knocking, he might keep trying—maybe even look for a way in. But if I open the door unprepared, I could lose control of the situation.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. Whatever decision I make now will be crucial. But one thing is clear: I can't afford mistakes.
As fast as I can, I grab the tarp with Sarah's lifeless body wrapped inside and, with an almost desperate effort, drag it to the clothes closet nearby. I move the corpse so clumsily and hastily that I nearly lose my balance as I shove it into the cramped space. It's far from a good hiding spot, but right now it's all I have. I slam the closet doors shut, my hands trembling as I try to steady my breathing.
The knife is still on the floor, stained with dried blood. I pick it up and, without thinking twice, toss it into the closet before shutting the door with a dull thud. Nothing about this is perfect, but I need to keep up appearances—at least for now. Sweat starts trickling down my forehead as I head for the front door.
The man outside pounds again, this time harder. His voice booms with unyielding authority, thick with a mix of impatience and threat."If you don't open this door, I'll open it myself!" he shouts, his tone firm and commanding, like someone used to never being questioned.
My heart skips a beat. This is not someone who'll give up easily. Trying to stay calm, I yell back,"Coming!"
As I walk to the door, I force myself to slow my steps, not wanting to seem too rushed. When I reach it, I rest my hand on the knob and turn it slowly, controlling every movement as I brace for whatever's waiting on the other side. Finally, I crack the door open just a sliver before pushing it all the way.
There he is.A police officer.
My thoughts come to a screeching halt. My mind goes blank as I try to process what I'm seeing. What is a cop doing here, in the middle of nowhere, at this time of night? My whole body tenses, but I force myself to keep a neutral expression as I size him up quickly.
He's a lean man, probably in his forties. His build isn't particularly muscular, but there's a coiled energy about him, like he's always ready to spring into action if needed. But what worries me most isn't his build—it's what he's carrying: a holstered gun on his belt and a radio on his shoulder. That radio is what rattles me most. If he suspects anything, one message could bring more officers here, and then I'm finished. Not to mention the squad car parked behind him—another problem, since police cars usually have trackers.
I focus on his face—lined with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes hinting at hours on duty. His gaze is sharp, like someone used to reading secrets in the smallest gestures. He's not here by chance. That much is obvious.
I need to buy time, take control of the situation before it spins out of hand. Forcing myself, I let out an exaggerated yawn, covering my mouth with my hand, pretending I've just been woken up."Sorry for the delay," I say, letting my voice sound groggy. "It's late and I was already asleep. What can I do for you, officer?"
I wait for his response, keeping my face as blank as possible, while inside my mind races, analyzing every word and move. This isn't a simple visit—I know it. The real danger just knocked on my door.
The officer greets me with a gesture meant to seem friendly but that inevitably radiates intrusive authority. It's the kind of greeting that doesn't aim to make me comfortable but to remind me he's in charge."Sorry for showing up at this hour," he says, his tone carrying a hint of formality that barely masks the firmness underneath.
Trying to maintain my calm façade, I nod slightly and force a polite smile."No problem, officer," I say, working to keep my tone as neutral as possible, like I have nothing to hide.
Then he asks the question I fear the most:"May I come in?"
His request, though phrased as a question, is anything but optional. That simple line puts me at a crossroads. If I say no, he'll almost certainly grow suspicious. But if I let him in, the risk skyrockets. I can't let him see what I'm hiding, but I can't appear evasive either.
Trying to stall, I tilt my head slightly and ask,"May I ask what this is about?"
The officer narrows his eyes, sizing me up, and answers bluntly:"I heard some screams coming from this direction. I came to check that everything's alright."
It feels like a bucket of ice water pours over me. He heard the screams. Shit. I knew it—I should've silenced Sarah sooner. But now it doesn't matter if he heard her or me. The problem is standing right here, on my doorstep.
I force myself to hold my composure, shrugging my shoulders slightly in a casual gesture as I reply,"That's strange… I haven't heard anything out of the ordinary. Out here in the woods, it wouldn't be unusual for it to be wild animals. Sometimes they make noises that can sound pretty terrifying, you know?"
At this, the officer frowns. His expression shows a flicker of doubt, but his resolve doesn't waver."Maybe," he says after a moment's pause, "but I still need to come inside to make sure everything's alright."
For a moment, the idea of refusing crosses my mind. I could make up an excuse—say it's late, that I'm not comfortable letting strangers in. But I know if I do, his suspicions will skyrocket. He's clearly not leaving without a look around.
"Of course, I understand," I say, forcing my tone to stay submissive, like I have nothing to hide. Then I add with a strained smile, "Please, just take your shoes off. I like to keep the house clean."
He nods slightly, probably paying no real mind to my request, and steps forward."Excuse me," he says, stepping into the foyer and slowly removing his shoes.
His presence fills the space with an almost suffocating weight. I close the door behind him with a soft click, watching as his eyes roam, inspecting every corner of the entryway with an attention that puts my nerves on edge. I have to keep him away from that room. I have to think fast.