Death’s Secret (Episode 2)

( Haven’t read part one? Click here before reading this : )

A gun shot. A hard thud hit the floor. I place my hand over my mouth, trying to keep my fear from escaping my lips. Did he just kill her? What do I do? When I walked around last night, I didn’t notice the creeks the floorboards made. The joists vocalized their presence with my first footstep. I lift my foot to silence the noise and place it on another spot that is quieter, creeping around the room looking for a space small enough to hide me. This is to be the one time I wish my hips and breast were smaller. The window, perhaps I can slip out. Finally etching my way to the window, I unlatch the locks and push up. It won’t budge. I struggle against it, but it is airtight. The cabin is older, but the windows aren’t original, there is no reason it should be this hard to open. I examine the lower windowpane closer. The reason I can’t open the window is because it’s screwed into the frame. Footsteps from the other side of the door.  My heart panics in the depths of my stomach. I’m going to die. I’m not able to fit underneath the bed, thus I ease onto the floor next to it, hidden from the door. The footsteps approach. It dawns on me when the door handle jiggles, I should have locked it. 

I hold my breath waiting to be found. The footsteps descend back down the hallway and leaving without entering. A sigh of relief. I need to find a way to get to get to my car, drive until I have cell service and call for help. Slowly, I pull myself to my feet. I peek out of the window, making sure the threat is gone. Upon opening the bedroom door, I see a large lump on the floor. It’s Francis. I tiptoe to his side, checking for life. He makes a slight groan, indicating he still has life. 

“Oh my God baby, where were you shot?” I ask while scanning his blood-soaked body for the open wound. 

He answers me with another groan. 

What should I do? Keys, I must find keys

I rummage through the cabin looking for the car keys. 

When we arrived, Francis immediately took my keys from me. He teased that I wouldn’t be able to leave him until the end of our trip, in case I tried to sneak out in the middle of the night. He told me to close my eyes so he could hide both of our keys in a secret hiding spot. Like a good sport, I obliged. If only I would have peeked, I wouldn’t have had to search the whole house. I made sure to not make too much noise as I puttered around frantically. 

Where could the damn keys be?

Francis groans again. I rush to his side to see if he is ok.

“What is it baby?” 

He tries to move his hand resulting in his fingers weakly scratching at the floor. 

“I want to help you, but I need the keys. Where are the keys?” I pleaded. 

He moans.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to check the other room.” 

I head towards the only other bedroom in the house. There is only a bed in the room. No table, no desk, no dresser. I open the closet door and it’s pretty bare. The only things inside are a suitcase and a garment bag. I feel along the shelf for the keys, but all there is, is dust. If there is a place to hide anything, I suppose the suitcase makes sense. I pull at the handle. The weight of the bag is a little shocking. It’s full, but of what? With the case outside of the closet, it flops onto the ground without my permission. I wince at the loud sound. I pause for a moment, unsure if the woman heard the thud.

I unzip the small front pocket; empty. I unzip a larger compartment and dig my hand inside. I pull out a pair of hand cuffs and a rope. Francis is into some kinky things, thus it doesn’t surprise me. I unzip the largest zipper. When I flip back the flap, I see many questionable items. On top are a few more sex toys, but as I look deeper, I find all types of outfits and lingerie in various sizes. I pull them out in one clump and beneath it is some sort of medieval torture lock. Two boards are fastened together by hinges and three large holes for a head and hands. This is what made the case so heavy. The question blaring in my head now is, what is its purpose?


9:12 am

The front door creaks open. The murderer is back, perhaps to finish killing him, or me. I leave everything on the floor and scurry into the closet, gently closing it behind me and tucking myself in the furthest corner. I close my eyes and pray I’m not found. The footsteps thump the wooden floor, passing by the room I’m in and goes into the master bedroom. If she didn’t know I was here before, she surely knows now. My toiletries are neatly placed on the end table and my skincare products along the bathroom sink in alphabetical order. I gave the killer flashing signs stating that another person is here. ~

(To be continued)

Comment below your thoughts on the second part of the story. Did you enjoy it? Subscribe by email or through your wordpress account to keep up with the series. Click the link to continue reading:

If you need something else to read, check out the completed short series “Tears of Red”

3 thoughts on “Death’s Secret (Episode 2)

  1. This is good you have the bones of something great. If it were my writing I would hide some of the backstory it pulled me out and made me stop reading for a bit. Show she is slightly OCD /organised hint by something she does instead of telling, maybe the intruder stops when she/he notices the dresser with everything sorted in size and colour, he/she drums fingers on the dresser … that sort of thing. Please it isn’t a criticism just another writer hoping to help. P.S. dying to see what is next.


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