The drive back from the airport feels long but strangely dull at the same time. My suitcase is heavy, but I manage to carry it anyway. I wasn’t expecting to spend the night in a stranger’s house, but I’m being paid to make sure nothing goes wrong. Even so, something about the atmosphere inside feels tense and uncomfortable.
I’m supposed to unpack in the guest room, but I can’t be bothered right now. Instead, I focus on setting up security cameras and alarms around the property. Two go outside, one covering the garden and one for the porch. Inside the house, I place five more: in the basement, living room, dining room, kitchen, and at the stairs.
Later, I sit on the couch watching TV when I get a message from my mum asking if I’m okay. I reply casually that I am. I order pizza for dinner since I still need to take out the rubbish, and the fridge is completely empty, which is frustrating. I decide not to bother buying food for a house I don’t even own. Outside, the wind howls harshly. Something keeps tapping against the garden door, which is irritating but I ignore it.
By the second day, I tell myself there’s only one more night left. In the basement, I notice an ant infestation in the corner. It looks like the owners don’t take care of the place at all. Apart from that, the job has been easy so far, aside from a couple of elderly neighbours across the street who keep watching the house strangely.
Then everything changes.
Not even half an hour later, someone returns carrying a machete. I don’t understand what’s going on. This was supposed to be an easy job. The man heads toward the outside power box. Who even installs a power box outside? Suddenly, the lights go out. No power. No signal. I can’t call for help.
I rush to find somewhere to hide. My writing is messy and rushed as panic sets in. I search the room and notice a small freezer in the corner. When I open it, I grab a plastic bag, but what I find inside makes me freeze.
There are organs inside.
I feel sick instantly. I can’t go outside, whoever is out there is waiting for me. “Are you serious?” I whisper to myself, my voice shaking. I grab my suitcase, using it as a makeshift weapon.
By the time I finish writing, they’ve already entered the house. I prepare myself. Both of them walk into the room. I manage to knock one of them out, but I almost get struck by the one with the machete.
Then I feel it.
A sharp pain. A red stain spreads across my hoodie. I slowly look down, a blade is sticking out of my chest.
I look up, and it’s the owner.
“Are you serious?” I whisper one last time.
It was a trap.