Veil of Shadows

Why?

What happens?

After a long silence, she was the one to break it. Her voice was soft, hesitant. "Why me?"

He turned his gaze to her, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." she hesitated, unsure of how to phrase the storm of thoughts swirling in her head. "Why are you treating me like this? From what I saw, the woman before me didn't seem to like you much, and it looked like you didn't like her either. So why are you treating me so... nicely?"

For a moment, he simply looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then, something shifted. His eyes filled with a passion that startled her, as if he had been waiting for her to ask this exact question.

"It's true," he began, his voice low but steady, "I didn't like her. But it wasn't just dislike. She was an evil person. On the surface, she seemed like the victim—she let her husband beat her, always playing the role of the helpless wife. But late at night, she would inject him with poison. Slowly, over three months, it killed him. He died shortly after they moved in."

Her breath caught, but he wasn't finished.

"But that's not why I hated her," he continued, his tone darkening. "At first, I thought I might like her. She was cunning, ambitious, the kind of person I was drawn to back then. But after he died, she started bringing other people into the house. Most of them were drunk or wasted, barely able to stand. She brought them to the basement and did horrible, cruel, inhuman things to them. When she got bored of her 'fun,' she'd kill them and bury their bodies in the garden out back. I hated her because she wasn't just cruel—she was a true monster."

Her heart pounded as she listened, her mind struggling to process the horrifying revelations.

"After two months of witnessing her atrocities, I couldn't take it anymore," he admitted, his tone colder now. "Usually, bad people are drawn to this house. I was one of them once. But the house has a way of dealing with them—accidents, suicides, it gets rid of them eventually. This time, though, the house was taking too long. So I took matters into my own hands."

She stiffened, dread creeping up her spine.

"Everything that's been happening to you?" he said, his voice softer, tinged with regret. "It happened to her too. But for her, it was ten times worse. The house twisted her mind until she couldn't take it anymore. She overdosed, ending it herself. Afterward, I put her body next to what was left of her husband in the basement and called the police to let them deal with the mess."

Her mouth was dry, her mind racing as she tried to reconcile the story with the man—or creature—before her. "Why did you do the same things to me?" she finally asked, her voice trembling.

His expression shifted again, and for the first time, she saw something she didn't expect: regret. Shame.

"Because," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "when you bought this house, I thought you were like her. You didn't seem to care about its history, and I assumed you had the same darkness inside you." He paused, his gaze softening as he continued, "But as I watched you—saw how you lived, how you treated people—and after I introduced myself, I realized I was wrong. You're nothing like her. You're good. Kind. Sweet. You're... pure-hearted."

Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, his eyes filled with an intensity that made her chest tighten. "That's when I realized the truth," he said, his voice reverent. "You're my angel. My light. You're the only thing that's ever shown me there's hope, that there's something worth redeeming. You're the light at the end of my tunnel."

She stared at him, her thoughts a tangled mess of fear, intrigue, and something she didn't dare name. He held her gaze, unwavering, as if daring her to challenge his words.

At that moment, she didn't know whether to run or to stay.