Solange

The sound of a knife cutting through vegetables, makes my senses on high alert, every nerve tingling with unease. Asher's attempts at making dinner causes a clatter of pots and pans to rattle in the pressed silence. I watch him from the corner of my eye, his movements slow and measured as if he'd rather be doing something else, but I don't offer to help. I can't focus on mundane tasks when my mind is racing with suspicions.

He's stopped trying to make small talk with me at least, sensing that I'm trying to put distance between us. I rise, roaming aimlessly around the cabin, my eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Coming here I didn't really know who I was coming here with, and I didn't care-because I blindly trusted him but now I wish I'd been more cautious. Asked more questions. My fists clench.

What happened in that shed?

My eyes go to the fireplace-the fireplace where we…there's a sharp tug on my heart and then I see it on the mantel. —The book Asher showed me on the plane, the one about serial killers. My breath catches in my throat as I pick it up, flipping through its pages with trembling hands.

The words blur together, but the descriptions leap out at me with chilling clarity. No, no, no….My gut twists with a sickening realization—the atrocities described in this book, the gruesome details of the killings, they mirror what was done to those men in the shed. And the book is written with a chilling detachment, as if the author is talking about the weather.

I stagger back, dropping the book as if it burns my fingers. Panic surges through me, threatening to choke me. Asher hasn't noticed. He's still by the stove, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. My breaths turns painful and I clasp my throat.

I have to get out of here. I have to escape before it's too late.

Silently, I make my way across the creaking floorboards towards the door. Every step feels like an eternity, each heartbeat a thunderous drum in my ears. My hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob, wincing at the faint click it makes as I turn it.

But before I can push the door open and flee, it slams shut with a force that makes me gasp. Asher presses up behind me, his breath warm against my ear, his body heat nauseatingly hot.

"Don't," he whispers.

I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest. Tears blur my vision as I turn to face him, his features cast in shadows. Fear flares in me as I search his eyes for any hint of remorse or deception.

But what I see is a cold determination, a darkness that sends me spiralling. The truth stares me in the face now, undeniable and terrifying. My mind races with disbelief, but the evidence is there. He's not who I thought he was.