After saying those words, the kid didn't wait for a response, he just turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness outside. My breath hitched. My heart pounded so loudly that I could barely hear anything else. My hands gripped the window frame as I stood there, frozen.
*Run for your life…*
The words echoed in my head, refusing to leave.
Carlos tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watched me. His voice, usually calm and composed, carried a hint of worry as he asked, "Kai, what happened?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My throat was dry, and my heart pounded so loudly that it drowned out everything else. I could barely hear him. My thoughts were racing, tangled in a mess of fear and uncertainty.
Who was that kid?
Why did he come here?
Why did he say that to me?
Is Carlos really a killer?
Or… was that the same kid Carlos mentioned? The one who broke in earlier?
I could still see the kid's desperate face outside the window, his eyes wide with fear, his urgent whisper still ringing in my ears:
"Run for your life. That madman is going to kill you."
I gripped the edge of the couch, trying to steady my shaking hands. My mind screamed at me to leave, to get out of here, but my body refused to move.
Carlos stepped closer, his voice firm yet gentle. "Kai, what's wrong?"
I blinked and looked up at him, trying to read his face. His expression was filled with concern, but that didn't ease my fear. Was it genuine? Or was he just good at pretending?
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Carlos said, crouching in front of me so he could meet my eyes.
I swallowed hard. I couldn't tell him. What if he really was a killer? What if I said something wrong, and it made him realize I knew too much?
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, kid, if something's bothering you, you need to tell me. You're safe here. I won't let anything happen to you."
Safe? That word felt foreign in a place like this. A house filled with weapons. A house with *blood* on the floor.
Carlos sighed again, this time deeper, and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Did something happen while I was gone?"
I hesitated before shaking my head. "No... nothing." My voice was barely above a whisper.
Carlos studied me carefully, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of my face, as if trying to detect a lie. "You sure?"
I forced myself to nod. "Yeah. Just... just thinking too much."
He let out a short chuckle. "Thinking? About what? Kid, I don't think I've ever seen you look this pale. You're acting like I just pointed a gun at you."
The mention of a gun made my stomach twist. I tried to smile, to act normal, but I knew it looked forced. "It's nothing. Just… tired, I guess."
Carlos didn't seem convinced. He let out a breath and stood up, stretching his arms. "Alright, I won't push. But if something's wrong, you *will* tell me, right?"
I nodded again, though I wasn't sure if I meant it.
He watched me for a moment longer before shaking his head. "Damn, kid, you're really bad at hiding your emotions. If I didn't know better, I'd say you saw something you weren't supposed to."
My breath caught in my throat. I forced out a weak laugh. "What? No. Of course not."
Carlos tilted his head, his gaze sharp. Then, after a beat, he shrugged. "Alright, if you say so."
He turned toward the kitchen, his footsteps echoing in the quiet house. "I was gonna ask you to help, but you look like you might pass out. So, why don't you just sit tight? I'll get the food ready."
I nodded stiffly, feeling the tension in my shoulders refuse to ease. As Carlos walked away, my eyes darted toward the window again. The kid was gone.
I clenched my fists.
What if I made a mistake?
What if I just ignored the only warning that could save my life?
Carlos's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "You like chicken, right?"
I turned my head toward the kitchen, forcing myself to focus. "Yeah...
"Good. 'Cause that's what we're having. Simple meal, nothing fancy." He chuckled. "Unless you want me to go full chef mode and make something gourmet."
I shook my head. "No, this is fine."
He smiled. "See? That's better. You're talking now."
I tried to return the smile, but it barely reached my eyes.
Carlos turned back to the stove, whistling a tune as he cooked. He looked... normal. Not like a murderer. Not like someone who would hurt me.
But then again… isn't that what a true killer would look like?
I sat there, motionless, my mind still clouded with doubt.
Carlos glanced at me again, his voice softer this time. "You remind me of myself when I was younger."
I looked up, surprised. "Huh?"
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Always thinking. Always doubting people. You learn that when you grow up alone."
I stiffened. He wasn't wrong.
He smiled, but it wasn't like before, it was sad. "You don't have to act tough all the time, kid. No one's gonna hurt you here."
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
But my eyes flickered toward the bag he had placed on the counter. The one he had brought with him when he returned. It was large.
Big enough to carry a weapon.
I swallowed hard.
Carlos noticed my gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
I quickly looked away. "No… just lost in thought."
He chuckled. "Damn, kid, you sure do that a lot."
I forced a small smile. "Yeah, I guess I do."
He went back to cooking, but I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine.
Something about this entire situation felt… off.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe I was letting fear get the best of me.
But then Carlos reached for the bag.
And everything inside me screamed RUN.