The driver swiftly opened the door for me, his movements precise, almost impatient.
"Thank you," I said, as I always did, before stepping inside.
The car door shut with a quiet *click,* sealing me in the cool, dim interior. The faint scent of leather mixed with the lingering traces of my cologne. I leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly as the engine hummed to life.
My gaze drifted to the tinted window, watching the city lights blur as we pulled away.
Why did Amanda want me home so urgently?
The question lingered in my mind, growing heavier with each passing second. I had learned long ago that Amanda was not one to panic easily. She was a woman of control, of calculated decisions. If she was calling me repeatedly, something *serious* had happened.
My mind started pulling at possibilities.
Had something happened to Ann?
Or was it something worse?
Thinking quickly turned into overthinking, and before I realized it, I was slipping, falling back into the past, walking through the corridors of old memories once again.
Memories of a different life.
A life where urgent calls didn't exist. Where no one was waiting for me to come home. Where "home" was nothing more than a cold alleyway and a piece of cardboard to sleep on.
I clenched my fists, shaking the thoughts away.
*Focus, Kai. This isn't the past anymore.*
But even as I told myself that, the feeling remained.
A heavy, unshakable weight pressing down on my chest.
Within seconds I lost myself in thoughts again.
-
The sharp *click* of the lock turning sent a jolt through my entire body.
For a second, I felt paralyzed.
Every instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, to *do something,* but my mind was racing too fast for my body to react. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out every other sound in the room.
*Calm down.*
Panicking would only make things worse.
I forced myself to breathe, to move. My legs felt stiff, but I walked, quick, quiet steps, toward the other room. The air felt heavier with every step I took, like I was pushing through something unseen.
I spotted a worn-out sofa in the corner and sat down, trying to steady myself.
Sitting in the same place where he left me would only make him suspicious. It would seem like I was waiting for him, expecting him.
No, I needed to act natural.
As if I *belonged* here.
As if I wasn't just moments away from opening that refrigerator and uncovering something I wasn't supposed to see.
My fingers curled against the fabric of the sofa. The texture was rough, old, like it had seen years of use, of wear and tear. My breathing was shallow, controlled. My body tense, ready for whatever would come next.
The door creaked open.
Footsteps.
Steady, unhurried.
Each one sent a wave of dread crawling up my spine.
I kept my eyes forward, forcing myself to remain still. To not flinch. To not react.
Because if he sensed even *a hint* of fear in me…
I knew I wouldn't be walking out of this house alive.
Every twist of the lock felt like another nail in my coffin, each metallic *click* echoing in my ears like a countdown to something inevitable.
I kept my body still, but inside, I was spiraling.
I could hear my own heartbeat, fast, erratic, like gunfire against my ribs. My mind raced, calculating every possible escape route, every potential move I could make. But the walls felt too close, the room too small.
I had to stay calm. *At least on the outside.*
The door creaked open.
Carlos stepped inside.
His heavy boots hit the floor in slow, deliberate steps. He didn't rush. He didn't call out. He just walked, as if he already knew *I wasn't going anywhere.*
I swallowed hard, forcing my hands to stay relaxed against my lap.
I couldn't let him see my fear.
Carlos stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a dark cloud.
His eyes locked onto me, sharp and unreadable. But there was something else, something lurking beneath the surface. A flicker of anger? Suspicion?
His gaze burned into me, his bloodshot eyes glowing like a predator that had just spotted its prey.
My heartbeat spiked instantly.
I could hear it pounding in my ears, feel it rattling against my ribs. My breath caught in my throat, but I forced myself to stay still. If I moved too quickly, if I showed even the slightest sign of fear, he'd know.
He'd *know*.
Carlos took another step forward. The floor creaked beneath his weight.
I swallowed, my hands pressing down against my knees to keep from trembling.
I needed to act normal. I needed to stay calm.
But with every second that passed, it felt like I was running out of time.
Carlos took another step forward, then another. His sharp gaze softened, just a little, as he let out a breath and set the bag he was carrying onto the table.
"Did you sit here the whole time?" His voice was casual, almost amused, but there was something unsettling beneath it.
I forced a small nod. "Yeah… I didn't want to touch anything."
He chuckled as he pulled off his jacket, tossing it over the chair. "Good kid. Not many have manners these days."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to relax. Act normal. Act like everything was fine.
Carlos walked toward the refrigerator. My breath hitched.
*Don't look. Don't react.*
I kept my eyes on the table, pretending I wasn't watching his every move. He didn't seem to notice anything unusual. He just grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a long sip.
"You sure you're not hungry?" he asked. "I could fix you something."
I shook my head quickly. "I'm fine."
Carlos smirked, running a hand through his messy dark hair. "Not much of an eater, huh? You're like my son used to be. Kid would rather drink water than eat a full meal."
He laughed to himself, but there was a hollow sound to it. A distant kind of pain.
I hesitated. "…Your son?"
Carlos's smile faded slightly, but he didn't look at me. He just stared at the wall for a moment before answering.
"He's gone." His voice was quiet, but heavy. "Lost him and his mother in a car accident a few years back."
I blinked, surprised.
"I'm… sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say.
He exhaled through his nose. "Don't be. Life is what it is."
For a moment, the room felt different. Like Carlos wasn't just a strange man in a dark house, like he was just someone who had lost everything.
I lowered my guard a little.
Carlos turned to me again, his expression unreadable. "So, kid. What's your story?"
I hesitated. "My story?"
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Yeah. You got parents?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Figures." He tilted his head, studying me. "No family at all?"
"Not anymore," I said softly. "There was one person, but… he's gone now."
Carlos nodded slowly, as if he understood. "And now you just… wander around?"
I shrugged. "Something like that."
Carlos let out a breath, tapping his fingers on the table. "Tough world for a kid like you. You got guts, I'll give you that."
I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or something else.
He reached for the bag he had brought in. My stomach twisted as he unzipped it.
"So, Kai," Carlos said, his voice still calm, "tell me,"
His hand disappeared into the bag.
*Something's wrong.*
A second later, he pulled out a long, gleaming knife.
My breath caught in my throat.
My heartbeat stopped.
I couldn't move. Couldn't think.
Carlos looked up at me, his fingers gripping the handle tightly.
I felt it in my bones.
I was facing death.