The Two of Us

Chapter 8: I Have Never Killed a Man Before

My mind races as I catch sight of those ominous men outside the cabin. Fear tightens its grip on my chest, and I instinctively take a step back from the window, my heart pounding in my ears. A million thoughts race through my mind as I consider my options. Zane's absence becomes secondary; survival takes the forefront.

My backpack sits in the corner, and I snatch it up, hands trembling. I fumble to unzip it, pulling out a pistol. The distant murmur of voices outside grows louder, and I realize time is slipping away. My heart races as I check the pistol's magazine, ensuring it's fully loaded. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and remind myself of the importance of remaining calm. With every passing second, the voices outside become clearer, their tone filled with menace.

With the backpack securely slung over my shoulder, I tiptoe to the door, my ears straining to catch any subtle sound. The cabin's wooden floor creaks beneath my weight, and I wince at every step, the noise echoing in the silence. My breath catches as I press my ear against the door, listening intently. I can hear the low murmur of voices growing louder and more aggressive. Panic begins to rise within me, but I force myself to stay focused. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Are you sure someone's inside?" one man asks.

"Yeah, I heard something," another voice responds, rough and coarse. "We need to check it out."

Dread tightens its grip on me. I inch away from the door and decide to make a move. Silently, I slip out of the living room and move down the hallway, avoiding the creaky floorboards with every careful step. As I approach the back door, I catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. Panic seizes me, freezing me in my tracks. One of the men is patrolling the perimeter, his eyes scanning the surroundings. My breath catches in my throat as I press my back against the wall, desperately trying to blend into the shadows. The narrow hallway feels like a trap, with the walls closing in on me. I can hear the man's footsteps growing louder and the gravel crunching beneath his boots.

The back door stands just a few feet away, a portal to potential safety, but the man outside might see me if I use it. I peek through the window, heart pounding, and watch as he pauses, his gaze fixating on the cabin. I glance around the hallway, seeking any alternative routes, and spot a door to my left—a small utility closet. It's a gamble, but I open it quietly, praying the hinges won't betray my presence. The closet is cramped and filled with cleaning supplies and musty smells, but it offers concealment.

As I ease the door shut behind me, I strain to listen. The man outside continues his patrol, his boots echoing. My hands tremble as I grip the pistol, the cold metal providing reassurance in this terrifying moment. I can't shake the thought that every decision I make now is a matter of life or death.

"Check the cabin thoroughly," the rough voice commands. "We can't afford to miss anything."

The creak of the cabin door signals their entry. Fear clenches at my throat, and I try to steady my breathing. The closet feels like a suffocating cocoon, but it's my only shield against the impending danger.

My heart pounds in my chest, and the silence in the closet amplifies the chaos in my mind. I press my hand over my mouth, desperately trying to muffle any sound that might betray my hiding place. The footsteps draw nearer, each one a menacing drumbeat echoing through the narrow space.

The man's voice, rough and commanding, reverberates in the air. "Split up and search every room."

The sounds of boots on the wooden floor draw closer, and I strain to control my breathing, my chest rising and falling in sync with each anxious heartbeat. Panic courses through me as I realize the gravity of the situation. My breath catches, and I clench the pistol tighter, feeling its cold weight in my trembling hands. The closet seems smaller, the walls closing in on me as I contemplate the possibility of being discovered.