blood orange sky (bwwm horror)

bound 2 nobody 2

Three years ago...

Lucas trudged through the dense underbrush, the weight of the body slung over his shoulder pulling him down as he navigated the rugged terrain. The forest was quiet, the only sound the crunch of leaves and twigs under his heavy boots. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting pale beams that danced across the ground, illuminating his path, but the shadows felt more alive tonight—thicker, more foreboding.

He paused to readjust his grip, the chill of the night air biting at his exposed skin. The body was wrapped in a coarse tarp, rough against his hands, and he could feel the unnatural weight shifting slightly as he moved. A mix of adrenaline and dread coursed through him, but there was a steely resolve in his chest. He had to get this done. There was no turning back now.

Each step was a battle against the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him. He breathed heavily, the cold air filling his lungs as he forced himself forward. The path to his shed was steep, winding between towering trees and thick underbrush, and he could feel the strain in his muscles intensifying with every upward movement. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves hung heavily in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood that clung to the tarp.

Lucas's mind raced with thoughts of the night that had led him to this moment—the confrontation, the struggle, the moment he had made the choice that sealed their fate. It was still fresh, each detail etched into his memory with alarming clarity. He could see the flash of fear in the other person's eyes, could hear the words they had exchanged, sharp and desperate. But it was the moment when the life had drained from them, when the fight had left their body, that replayed in his mind like a haunting echo.

He reached a clearing near his shed, the dim light of the moon casting long shadows across the ground. Lucas paused, taking a moment to steady himself, feeling the sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill. His heart thudded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the weight he carried—not just the physical burden of the body, but the weight of what he had done.

With a final surge of effort, he pushed through the last of the underbrush and reached the wooden door of his shed. It stood there, sturdy and familiar, a place of solitude that had once held only tools and supplies. Now, it would serve a darker purpose. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then dropped to one knee, easing the body down onto the forest floor, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

He fumbled with the latch, his fingers trembling as he opened the door and stepped inside, the musty air wrapping around him like a shroud. The small space was dimly lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the scattered tools and old wooden crates. He glanced back at the body, now lying motionless in the shadows outside, then moved to retrieve a heavy canvas tarp from the corner of the shed.

With determined movements, he returned to the body, rolling it onto the tarp and securing it tightly, his hands working mechanically, almost detached from the gravity of the situation. As he lifted the bundle, he felt a surge of nausea rise within him, but he swallowed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

He dragged the body inside, the rough texture of the tarp scraping against the floorboards. The scent of blood seemed to intensify in the confined space, filling his nostrils and mixing with the earthy smell of the shed. He maneuvered the heavy bundle deeper into the shed, finding a corner near the back where he could tuck it away, hidden from sight.

Once the body was secured, Lucas stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The shed felt smaller, more oppressive now, as if the walls were closing in on him. He turned, his heart pounding as he glanced at the door, ensuring it was tightly shut. No one could know what had happened here, what he had done.