Hitman | Hizzie

Entry #7

October 14th

The cabin's old wood creaked with each gust of wind outside, a soft reminder of the protection it provided against the elements. Morning light filtered through gaps in the weathered curtains, revealing a room frozen in time. The decor was quaint, reminiscent of a bygone era. There were no signs of modern technology, a sanctuary untouched by the digital age. For now, this place was my fortress.

A look outside confirmed my belief that this location was a wise choice. Dense trees surrounded the cabin, their thick canopies almost blocking out the sky. Their presence offered both concealment and a natural barricade against anyone trying to approach quietly. A clear view of the only dirt road leading to the cabin meant I would see anyone coming from miles away.

Despite the apparent safety, I couldn't let my guard down. I spent the day fortifying the cabin. Booby traps were set near potential entry points, using the tools I'd acquired from the hardware store. I also carved out a hiding spot beneath the floorboards, stashing some food, water, and the knife. If someone got in, I'd have a last line of defense and supplies to wait them out.

Later, I tried my hand at lock-picking, using the set I'd recently acquired. It was tricky and required a delicate touch. Hours went by as I fumbled with the pins, growing increasingly frustrated. Finally, there was a soft click, and a triumphant smile spread across my face. I had unlocked an old cabinet in the cabin that had been previously inaccessible. Inside, curiously, I found old letters, maps, and a diary. Skimming through the diary entries, it was apparent the cabin once belonged to someone who lived off the grid, potentially even on the run. Their writings could offer insights and strategies that I hadn't considered.

As the day morphed into night, a soft rain began to fall. The rhythmic patter against the roof was oddly comforting. With the warmth of a small fire crackling in the hearth, I allowed myself a moment of genuine relaxation, immersing myself in the diary's pages.

But even amidst this calm, a part of me remained alert, ears straining for any sounds that didn't belong. Because no matter how secure I felt, the chilling truth remained: out there, someone was hunting me. And I had to be prepared for when they found me.