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How could I trust reality when I grew up in a house of horrors?

Who could blame me for losing track of what was real? I saw ghosts in my nightmares. I heard whimpers that were only the wind. My body was one step ahead of my mind, feet hitting the gravel in a steady, desperate rhythm.

Forward, forward, forward.

The flashlight was a thin illusion. The beam did nothing to push away the dark; it only cut holes into it. Sometimes I thought I saw shapes, just beyond the edge of the light. I almost welcomed it—the thing in the trees, whatever wolf or man or shadow that was waiting to end this spiral.

Empty fields on both sides. Empty sky above.

What if I was followed? What if Brandon found my trail? Was I so stupid to think he’d let go that easily? He always said I belonged to him, like I was his property. His little doll, built for bruises and apologies. The thought made my hands shake.

But the night made me shiver even harder. The cold wrapped around my arms, pulled me back to every lonely night I’d ever had. In the group home, pretending not to hear the screams in someone else’s room. With Brandon, locking myself in the bathroom while he hammered at the door and promised he still loved me.

One foot in front of the other.

For a second, I considered going back to the car. Locking the doors and hiding in the back seat. But I could already imagine waking up to headlights illuminating the inside, someone scraping at the windows. No thanks. I’d rather keep walking.

I counted my steps. I counted my breath. I lost focus, drifted backwards in time. My father’s hands, huge and calloused, cutting up a girl’s body in the basement. My mother’s necklace caught the sunlight as she argued with police. My own reflection in the lake, green eyes wide.

You did this, Starla.

You killed your mother.

No, no, no. I shook my head. Focus. Just get there. Find shelter, find a bed, maybe water if you are lucky.

The private road had to be close.

Fog thickened, smothering the edges of my vision. My skin felt too tight, like my whole body was shrinking, folding in on itself. Every few seconds I spun around, certain something was behind me.

Nothing. Except sometimes, just as I turned, I thought I saw the outline of a man. Watching. Waiting.

Keep walking. Don’t stop.

The only thing worse than being alone was proving that I wasn’t. It was better not to know. Better to just keep moving, like if I stopped the truth would catch up and devour me whole.

And wasn’t that what I deserved?

Just when I thought I couldn’t take the silent dark anymore, the private road appeared. It wasn’t paved, more like a gravel trail, just big enough for a car. Peering down the blackness, I could make out a shape in the distance. A house.

A cluster of trees stood on both sides of the gravel path. The wind blew through the leaves, making them dance in the night. The closer I got, the clearer the house became. An older farmhouse, still standing in one piece, but the outside of the walls were worn.

On the porch, there was a light turned on. Hope bloomed in my chest. For mere moments, I stood by the porch steps, just staring at the door. What waited behind this door? A nice old lady? A younger woman? A man? A family with kids?

It was doubtful that there were any kids, though. I only saw one car parked on the side. There wasn’t much life on the outside. If the light wasn’t on, and if there wasn’t a car, I would have assumed nobody lived here.

Once I was up the porch steps, I turned the flashlight off and took a deep breath. Lifting my hand, I knocked on the door, hard enough to alert whoever was inside of my presence.

A few seconds passed until the door opened. A tall figure appeared in the doorway. Behind him, it was dark. At first, I could only make out black eyes. My heartbeat sped up, and my legs held the urge to turn and run.

Before I could make an escape, the figure stepped further onto the porch. It was a man. He had tousled black hair that fell over his forehead. Dark eyes that pierced through me. A masculine jawline. He had an attractive face, it was alluring and did something pleasurable to my insides.

He didn’t look too old, maybe a few years older than me.

I cleared my throat. “Hi, sorry to intrude,” I said quickly, slightly intimidated by his silence. “My car ran out of gas a few miles back. I saw your Private Road sign, so I figured I'd see if you could be of any help.”

“You can come in. It’s cold out.” His voice was deep, but flat. He stepped aside, making just enough space for me to squeeze past him.

Something about the house prickled at my nerves. The furniture was clean and ordinary. There was no mess, but no signs anyone really lived here either. No photos, no clutter, no sound except the echo of our footsteps. My instincts screamed to run again.