When nothing goes right, turn left

A Door to the Unknown

The phone buzzed in Veronica's hand, William's name glowing on the screen.

Clark and Bella waited, eyes darting between her phone and the half-opened door before them.

"Veronica,"Clark urged, voice tight. "We need to focus."

She hesitated.

Then, before anyone could see "what decision she made", she slid her phone into her pocket.

The door creaked wider as she stepped inside.

Darkness swallowed them whole. The air was thick—dusty, stagnant, laced with something Veronica couldn't name.

Bella clicked on her flashlight, and the beam sliced through the gloom. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with old boxes, forgotten papers—"things left behind."

But it wasn't random storage.

This place had been "used".

Clark moved to a desk against the far corner.

"This isn't just junk," he muttered. "These files... these are real."

Bella was already rifling through one of the stacks when her breath hitched.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

Veronica turned, heart pounding.

Bella held up a document—"a record dated from two months ago."

"Smith's name. Hilary's signature."

A transaction.

Something "was exchanged" between them—right before Smith ended up dead.

Veronica's pulse hammered.

Then—

Behind them.

A sound.

A "footstep."

Not theirs.

Not "alone".

The sound of the "footstep" was slow. Deliberate.

Veronica felt the hairs on her neck rise.

Clark was already moving, eyes darting to the entrance. Bella clutched the document tighter, breath unsteady.

"We need to go," Clark whispered.

Veronica barely nodded before the "next sound" came—closer this time.

A "door shutting."

Someone was inside with them.

Bella's fingers dug into Veronica's arm. "If we run, they'll hear us."

Veronica swallowed, brain racing. She could feel it—"the weight of eyes on them". Someone watching. Someone waiting.

Clark gestured subtly toward the back of the room—a smaller exit, half-hidden by stacked boxes.

"Move. Now."

They crept toward it, slow, measured steps. Each second stretched painfully long, the silence pressing down on them.

Then—

A 'metallic scrape'. "Behind them."

Like something being lifted. Or readied.

Bella's breath hitched, panic creeping into her grip on Veronica.

There was no more time.

Clark reached the door first—twisted the handle—locked.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath.

Veronica felt the surge of adrenaline hit "all at once". No choices. No logic. Just instinct.

She grabbed the closest stack of papers and "threw" it across the room.

The distraction was instant.

A sharp movement—a shadow shifting "whoever was watching them turned."

And in that split second, Clark's shoulder slammed against the door—"breaking it open."

"Run!"

They bolted into the night, feet pounding against pavement, lungs burning.

Veronica didn't dare look back.

Not until they were "far enough".

Not until she knew—"whoever had been inside that building... hadn't followed."

Or had they?