Guarded

Amaya knew the famous quote that had been regurgitated on all forms of social media, "The fall is about to teach us about how beautiful it is to let things go." If only she had taken that a little more to heart; then maybe she wouldn't be in the situation she was in now. The young woman thought it was going to be wonderful to move to some small town in Oregon. The barely-on-the-map community was bound to be a great place to get away and start on her novel. The quaint abode that she was renting felt more homely than her actual childhood home in Denver. The crisp, autumnal wind nipped at her skin as she moved the last of the boxes into her new home. Amaya stopped to take a breath, feeling accomplished after moving completely by herself. Sure, the house was next to empty, not a piece of furniture to adorn the place, but she was determined to make this place her home. As she was unpacking her kitchen utensils, she heard the familiar ding of her cellphone, alerting her that she had an incoming text.

"We will be over in 10 minutes with the bed and armchair," her landlord informed.

Amaya didn't know much about the family that she was renting from, only that they lived a couple of miles up the road. She knew there were a wife and husband; to her knowledge, the older pair didn’t have any kids. From the phone call, she estimated the wife JoAnn to be in her late fifties. She was young enough to understand how to text but old enough for her voice to sound weathered on the phone. The writer tried her best to tidy up the place before the Lorson's arrived. She placed one last spoon in the drawer as she heard a soft knock at the door.

When she opened the door, her suspicions were confirmed, the couple was indeed in their fifties or sixties. JoAnn stood at about 5'6" and her long, silver hair was braided and laid neatly on her shoulder. Harry was much taller, towering over his wife. His expression wasn't very kind, and his eyes were hardened, almost like he didn't want to be there. JoAnn smiled softly at the young girl and gestured to the inside of the cottage.

"I see you have all your boxes moved in! Harry can start carrying in the pieces of the bed and assembling it for you!"

Amaya smiled and nodded softly, unsure of what to say to the Lorson's. She wasn't very big on social interaction, hence her desire to be a writer. If she could stay tucked away from everyone and write out her feelings, then Amaya would be fine. She moved out of the way as Harry marched away to grab the pieces of the bed. Amaya made conversation with the much older lady as her husband carried in the bed and assembled it in the single bedroom. It wasn't until they heard Harry's gruff voice yell for JoAnn from the bedroom that a comfortable silence fell on the house. The wife rushed off to the bedroom, to aid her husband. At least, that’s what Amaya Ruggers thought.

She could hear soft whispers coming from the bedroom, and being the curious girl she was, she went to go listen in.

"Harry, she just moved in, we could just not say anything. We should just leave her alone. She seems nice," JoAnn's voice no longer held any kindness. Her words dripped with venom as she scolded her husband.

"I understand Jo, but that itch is back. I have to do it, now."

Amaya stepped out from behind the wall, "Is there something I could help you with? You guys have been so kind to me, it's the least I could do."

JoAnn's eyes softened, holding a gleam of pity for the young girl. Harry's eyes were a whole different story, the anger and evil radiating off of him.

"No dear, it's fine. Harry is just being silly," JoAnn assured the girl.

"JoAnn, if she wants to help, I guess she can."

"Harry, please I am begging you to leave this one alone."

"Mr. and Mrs. Lorson, what is going on," Amaya questioned, fear seeping into her. She truly knew, deep down, she didn't want to know what was transpiring between the two.

"Dear, it's fine. Please, don't ask any more questions," JoAnn almost pleaded with the writer.

"JoAnn, it's time. She's heard too much. You should've left well enough alone young lady," Harry's sinister voice rang out.

Amaya's breath caught in her throat; she was now certain she didn't want to know.

"I'm sorry Amaya. I'm sure you would've been a great writer," the senior woman whispered.

The girl's scream ripped through the air as she took off out of the bedroom. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears while her feet carried her as quickly as they could out of the cottage and to the woods. Amaya had seen enough horror movies to know that it was a stupid idea to run away from civilization, but her adrenaline had other ideas. She could hear Harry approaching her quickly, his footsteps falling in line with her own.

It was all starting to make sense to her. The red flags were all there, she just didn't connect the dots until it was too late. The ad was targeted towards young writers, the couple being so welcoming, and the offer to come to help her move in; they were all to set Amaya up to be killed by Mr. Lorson. Here she was, alone in the woods, running from her almost-certain demise. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't see the obstacle in front of her feet. The fall to the ground was slow and fast, time both slowing and speeding up at the same time. Amaya briefly paused to look at what she tripped over and was horrified at the sight. Underneath her was the half-decomposed body of what seemed to be another young woman. She couldn’t tell completely, because the girl's head was bashed in beyond recognition. She barely had time to get to her feet before the old man grabbed her by her hair and stood her up himself.

"She was a pretty little thing, just like you. I'm sure she had a bright future in front of her. It's really too bad she met the business end of my hammer before she could get there," Harry snarled in Amaya's ear. Amaya shivered, the evil nature of the man holding her seeping into her bones.

Mr. Lorson threw the girl to the ground and raised the hammer above his head and smiled down at the girl, his eyes void of emotion. The last thing that Amaya saw before the impact was JoAnn, crying behind Harry.

"I'm sorry Amaya, he's just very sick in the head."

Then, everything was black.