The morning came with a wave of wrongness. The insistent gnawing in my gut wouldn't relent. I'd tried to ignore it, forcing myself through the motions of a typical Tuesday – light jog, eggs, and bitter coffee. But the unease, a thick, suffocating blanket, clung to my skin. Only when I finally escaped to the screened-in front porch with my dog-eared paperback did a semblance of peace settle over me. The gentle sway of the hanging ferns, the dappled sunlight filtering through the screen, the rhythmic chirping of crickets... it was almost enough. Almost.Then, a scream ripped through the idyllic scene. A high, keening wail that sliced through the quiet like shattered glass. I slowly abandoned The Hobbit. From the safety of the porch door, I cautiously looked past my yard. My parents' house was nestled on the corner of two quiet residential streets, usually peaceful, so the ear-piercing cry rang like a bell of despair.There, in the center of the road, lay a woman sprawled out, her figure
Last Updated : 2025-11-03
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