I hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching my door, and my body goes rigid, every nerve on high alert. I know it's him before I even see him, Lorenzo. There's a strange tension in the air, something thick and heavy that wraps around my chest like a vice, making it harder to breathe. The footsteps grow louder as they draw closer, the sound unmistakable, strong, deliberate, and purposeful. It feels like I can almost hear the weight of them on the floor, each step like a countdown to something I don't understand.
The door opens without a sound, and there he stands in the doorway, his presence suffocating in its intensity. He doesn't say anything right away, just stands there, his dark eyes fixed on me, as if he can see right through me, peeling away all the layers, all the things I try to hide. His gaze feels like a physical weight, pushing down on me, forcing me to meet it even though I want nothing more than to look away.
For a moment, he just stood there, the air between us thick with the silence. It's an uncomfortable silence—one that presses on my chest, making my heartbeat feel louder than it should. There's something in the way he watches me that makes it impossible to ignore him, to pretend like nothing is happening.
Finally, his voice breaks the stillness, low and clipped, like he's giving an order instead of having a conversation. "Come downstairs for food."
Food? The words don't make sense to me at first. Why is he suddenly being so… normal? After everything that's happened, the idea of food feels so… disconnected from reality. But then, almost on cue, my stomach growls loudly, an undeniable reminder of how long it's been since I ate.
The growl seems to echo in the quiet, almost like it's laughing at me for being so weak, for needing something as simple as food. But there it is, undeniable, and it makes my decision for me. I stand, my legs shaky from sitting too long, but I don't make a sound as I follow him. Barefoot, my feet slide silently across the cold floor. The house is still too quiet, too empty, and with each step I take, the silence feels heavier.
Lorenzo doesn't turn to look at me, but I can feel his presence like a shadow, always there, always watching. I can feel the weight of his gaze, even though I can't see his face. His steps are long and measured, confident, as if he's used to having complete control over everything and everyone around him. I wish I could say I'm unaffected by him, but the truth is, it's impossible. He's too imposing, too magnetic. Even when I try to distance myself, even when I try to fight the pull of his presence, it's like he's always there, drawing me in with an invisible string.
We reach the staircase leading down to the lower level, and I pause for just a moment. The air down here feels different, colder somehow, and it makes me feel uneasy. But I don't have a choice. I can't exactly refuse. I take a deep breath, feeling the cool air rush into my lungs, and descend the stairs behind him.
The closer we get to the kitchen, the more the tension in the house seems to grow. The silence is suffocating, like the walls are closing in around us, and I'm not sure if it's just my nerves or something else entirely. We reach the dining room, and Lorenzo sits down at the table, pulling out a chair without a word. His movements are smooth, efficient, and I can't help but notice how deliberate he is, how everything he does is so calculated.
I sit down opposite him, not knowing what to say, not sure if I even want to say anything. The air between us feels thick with something unspoken, a tension I can't shake. We begin to eat, but it's like I can't focus on the food. Every bite feels mechanical, like I'm just going through the motions, and yet, I can't stop myself. The silence between us presses down harder, like it's suffocating me. I can feel my heart racing, a frantic rhythm inside my chest that won't slow down no matter how much I try to calm myself.
Midway through the meal, Lorenzo's phone buzzes on the table, the sound breaking through the oppressive silence between us. I glance at him briefly, just for a moment, and notice that his expression has changed. He's no longer just focused on his food; his eyes have gone distant, almost unreadable as he looks at the screen. I don't ask what it is, don't even dare to, because I know better than to ask him questions. Lorenzo doesn't like being questioned.
Without a word, he stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a harsh scrape against the floor. The sound makes me jump, a sudden jolt of panic rushing through me. I don't know why it unsettles me so much, but it does. He doesn't look at me as he walks toward another door, his back straight and confident. There's something almost robotic in the way he moves, like he's a man on a mission, and nothing—nothing at all—will stand in his way.
I'm frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Part of me wants to just stay here, to stay safe in this moment, but another part of me—something darker, more curious—pushes me to follow. What is he up to? What is he doing?
I feel like I'm on the edge of something, teetering between safety and danger, and it's impossible to tell which side I'll fall on if I take that next step. But I can't help myself. The curiosity is too strong. Before I know it, I'm standing, moving towards the door, my feet silent on the cold floor as I follow him.
I keep my distance, making sure he doesn't hear me, doesn't know I'm there. I creep down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest, as I make my way to the stairs leading down to the basement. It's too dark down there. I can feel the chill in the air as I take each step carefully, trying not to make a sound. The basement feels like a place of secrets, of things hidden from the world.
I pause at the top of the stairs, just for a second, watching him as he disappears down into the basement. His figure becomes a shadow in the dim light, but I don't move. I stay still, holding my breath, as I watch him open the door and slip inside. There's a flicker of light from the basement, the dim glow casting strange shadows on the walls as he disappears into the dark.
I take a deep breath, my pulse racing, and move closer to the stairs. I don't know why I'm doing this, but I can't stop myself. I need to know. I need to see what's going on. I slowly, carefully, make my way down the steps, my heart beating louder with each step I take. The light from the basement flickers again, and I feel a shiver crawl up my spine.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and duck behind a pillar, trying to stay hidden, trying not to make a sound. From my vantage point, I can see everything. I can see Lorenzo standing in the center of the room, his stance poised. But it's what I see next that makes my stomach churn, that makes my blood run cold.
There's a man in the room with him. A man I don't recognize. And another man hanging upside down by one leg, his skin pale, and blood dripping slowly to the floor. The sight is sickening, grotesque, and my stomach lurches violently. I feel bile rise in my throat, but I force it back down. My hands tremble at my sides, and my mind races to understand what I'm seeing. But nothing makes sense. Nothing at all.
Lorenzo is holding a knife. The blade gleams in the dim light, and I can't tear my eyes away from it. My breath catches in my throat as I try to make sense of what's happening. Why is this happening? Why is he doing this?
Before I can process anything further, a scream tears itself from my throat, an involuntary sound of terror that I could not control. The sound of my scream seems to echo in the basement, and Lorenzo's head snaps toward me. His eyes lock onto mine, cold and piercing.
I freeze, my heart slamming in my chest as I stand there, paralyzed with fear, knowing I've just made a grave mistake.