Chapter 2

two

I stood there, the photo in my hand, my heart pounding. Who was this man, and why had my mother kept him a secret? Was he the reason we left Red Hallow all those years ago?

I ran my finger over the key that had been hidden with the photo. It was an old-fashioned skeleton key, the kind that might open a diary or a locked drawer. I had a strange urge to find out what it unlocked.

As I turned to survey the room, my eyes fell on the built-in bookshelves that lined one wall. They were filled with a haphazard collection of books, most of them old and dusty, their spines faded. I ran my fingers along the shelves, feeling for any hidden catches or mechanisms.

Then I spotted it—a small, almost invisible keyhole at the back of one of the shelves. My heart quickened as I inserted the key and turned it, hearing a soft click.

The shelf swung open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a small wooden box, similar to a jewelry case. I lifted the lid, expecting to find more photos or letters, but instead, I saw a single, intricately carved wooden figure. It was a statue of a terrifying creature, part-man, part-demon, with horns and a snarling face.

I couldn't help but shudder as I picked it up. There was something inherently disturbing about it, and I felt a sudden urge to put it back, as if it were something forbidden that should never see the light of day.

I carefully placed the statue back in the box and closed the hidden compartment, locking it again with the key. I needed to find out more about this strange figure and its connection to my family.

* * *

I'd only been in Red Hallow for a day, but the town had already managed to burrow under my skin. The locals eyed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, and their whispers followed me like a shadow. They spoke in hushed tones about the "Red Hallow Slasher," a name that sent a shiver down my spine every time I heard it.

I'd never heard of such a figure before coming here, which seemed odd, considering the media's obsession with serial killers. It was as if this slasher was a closely guarded secret, one that the town both feared and revered. The more I asked about him, the less I understood—no one would give me a straight answer. All they offered were cryptic hints and warnings to be careful, that he "came out around this time of year like clockwork."

The mystery of it all was maddening. I found myself haunted by the thought of this faceless killer, roaming the streets of Red Hallow, a place that was supposed to be my fresh start. The fear was a living thing inside me, gnawing at my resolve to rebuild my life here.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the town, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The creak of the old house and the rustle of the wind outside seemed louder, more ominous. I tried to distract myself with the mundane task of unpacking, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the slasher.

I was arranging my clothes in the ancient wardrobe when my hand brushed against something cold and metallic. It was another key, similar to the one I'd found earlier, but this one was attached to a faded red ribbon. My heart skipped a beat. What secrets did this key guard?

With the key in hand, I began to search the room for a lock that might match it. My fingers traced the grain of the wooden floorboards, the edges of the dusty fireplace mantel, the seams of the antique furniture. And then, in the corner of the room, I noticed a small, ornate chest that I hadn't seen before. It was as if it had materialized from the shadows, just for me.

The key turned smoothly in the lock, and the lid of the chest creaked open. Inside, I found a stack of old newspaper clippings, their pages yellowed and brittle with age. The headlines spoke of gruesome murders, of a killer who struck without warning, and of a town gripped by fear.

As I read through the articles, a pattern began to emerge. The killings always occurred in the weeks leading up to the anniversary of Red Hallow's founding. They were brutal, calculated, and each victim seemed to be connected to the Vesper family in some way.

My hands trembled as I realized the implications. My family was tied to this madness, and I had walked straight into the heart of it. The slasher wasn't just some urban legend—he was real, and he was part of my history.

I spent the rest of the night poring over the clippings, trying to piece together the puzzle of the Red Hallow Slasher. But the more I learned, the more lost I felt. Who was this killer, and why was he fixated on my family? What did he want, and was I next on his list?

The clock ticked on, the sound echoing through the silent house. I knew I shouldn't be alone here, not with the slasher lurking in the shadows. But I couldn't bring myself to leave, not when the answers I sought were locked within these walls.

As dawn broke, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I made a decision. I would confront the past, no matter how terrifying it might be. I would uncover the truth about the Red Hallow Slasher and my family's connection to him. And I would do it alone, because that's how I'd always faced my fears—head-on, with no one to rely on but myself.

With newfound determination, I gathered the newspaper clippings and the demonic statue I'd found earlier. They were pieces of a puzzle that I was only just beginning to understand. And as I sat there, surrounded by the remnants of my family's dark history, I knew that my life in Red Hallow was only just getting started.

The slasher might come for me, but I wouldn't go down without a fight. I had survived worse than this. Whatever secrets Red Hallow held, I would unearth them, no matter the cost.