Page 7

“No worries,” she replied, but I was halfway to the exit before she finished speaking. Something told me to stop and find Peter to let him know where I was going, but decided against it, wasting no time. The glass doors swung open and the humid night air wrapped around me, the noise of the arcade fading as they slammed shut behind me. The hospital was in the town centre, and it was less than a ten minute walk. I could do that—no way I was letting Jackson go through this alone. No matter how complicated things were between them, I knew how much he loved his mum. She was all he had left. And right now, he’d needed support. God knows he’d done enough of that for me.

“Evelyn?”

As I jogged down the sidewalk, distracted by my own thoughts, I’d failed to hear the brakes squeaking from the dark red Holden Ute pulling up beside me, until the familiar voice called my name. I startled, turning towards the sound. Icy blue eyes met mine as Wayne Gatz leaned across the console, peering at me through the open window.

“Is that you, darl?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly like it had been since I was a little girl.

Mr. Gatz had been our neighbour for as long as I could remember. His farmland stretched kilometres alongside our place, and he’d spent years supplying the local butchers with pork. Wayne and my father had been close once, two widowers who spent weekends on fishing trips down in Mandurah, cricket on the telly, and attending the occasional AFL match in the city. I hadn’t known him well back then, but after Dad…he’d been there. For both of us. Fixing things around the house, checking in on us, making sure Peter and I were eating enough.

So seeing him now felt like a small mercy.

“Where do ya think you're going walking this late at night?” he scolded, a toothpick limply hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“I know, I’m sorry. But I need to get to the hospital,” I told him, stepping closer to his vehicle.

“Something happen?” he asked, his expression tightening.

“No. Just…visiting a friend.” I stumbled over the lie, not wanting to disclose Jackson’s private life.

“Alright, well, I’ll drive you, darl. Hop in,” he said kindly as he leant across to push the passenger door open. If he were anyone else, I would’ve declined. But he was safe. He’d always been safe.

“Thank you,” I said as I opened the door wider and sat down. I hadn’t even pulled the door shut before he leaned over me and slid the seatbelt across my chest in his hand. I sucked in a breath, and all I could smell was tobacco and something metallic permeating from his flannel.

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered, clicking the belt into place. “It’s dangerous for a pretty young girl to be walking around at night—you never know who’s out there,” he chastised as he rolled the window up, the outside world sealing away with a dull thud. “I promised I’d look after you, darl,” he said as he adjusted the air vent toward me, then shifted the Ute into gear.

I focused on the road ahead, trying to steady the unease curling low in my stomach. Calm down, Evie, I told myself. Maybe I was just uncomfortable being alone with a man? Yeah—that had to be it. But then the glow of the town centre came into view…and slipped past us.

I frowned, turning in my seat. “Hey, Wayne, you missed the turn,” I said, pointing over my shoulder as I looked out the window, watching as the hospital passed by us. “Wayne?” I tried again, my voice thinner now. He looked straight ahead, ignoring me. I waited, thinking maybe he was trying to do a u-turn, but he just kept driving until we were in my street. “Where are we going?” I whispered, feeling my heart drop as he drove past my house and turned into his own driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tyres as the farmhouse loomed ahead.

“You can go later. I’ve got a surprise for you,” he grumbled, and something in the way he said it made my stomach twist. I forced a small and brittle smile as the Ute crawled further down the long road, ignoring how my head felt light, like the world had tilted just slightly off balance. The thick scent of pig manure blasted through the aircon as we pulled up in front of the farmhouse. I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to push the rising dread back down.

“Welcome to my home,” Wayne said, grinning as he killed the engine. Before I could react, he was already out of the car, and my door yanked open a second later.

“Come on.”

“Thank you,” I murmured automatically, the words slipping out on instinct as the door shut behind me with a solid, final thud. I glanced up, tightening my grip on my purse straps as I looked at the red-brick farmhouse. It didn’t look welcoming, and we were so close to the pigsty that I could hear them squealing from here. I followed him, despite the way my mind was begging me to turn around and leave. Because each step felt heavier than the last as we moved toward the front door. My pulse thudded in my throat, drowning out everything else. The closer we got, the stronger a strange smell became. Not just the manure anymore, but something else threaded through it.

Something…rotten.

Wayne pushed the door open and stepped inside without hesitation. I lingered for half a second too long, just enough to notice how dark it was beyond the doorway, then I forced myself to follow. The air inside was worse. Stale, thick, and just…wrong. My eyes adjusted slowly as I glanced around, noting how the house was empty. No photos decorating the walls, no fresh flowers, no signs that anyone actually lived here. Just beige, bare walls, and a few scattered pieces of furniture.

And…that smell.

It clung to the back of my throat, metallic and sour, like meat left out too long.

“Make yourself at home, darl. I’ll be right back,” Wayne threw over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway before I could answer, and the silence he left behind wasn’t empty—it pressed in on me, heavy and watchful. Slowly, I stepped further inside. The lounge room was dim, lit only by a weak bulb that hummed from a red lamp. A faded, black leather recliner sat slumped beside a dark blue sofa, both worn down like they’d been forgotten for years. In the corner, a single houseplant drooped on the windowsill, its leaves brittle and brown, curled like something that had given up trying to live.

Everything about this place felt wrong.

It wasn't messy.

It wasn't lived in.

It was just…hollow.

I’d never been here before. Peter had been here once, but he never said it looked like this, like…something out of a horror film. A crawling unease crept up my legs like something moving beneath my skin. I have to get out of here, I thought, moving towards the front door when Wayne suddenly reappeared in the doorway with a chocolate cupcake in his hand, a single candle placed in the centre, its flames dancing across his face, illuminating the unnerving grin spread across his lips.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”