“Come on in,” said the elderly woman. At first we didn’t think much of it. Her house smelled like old cans of vegetables that have been left out in the sun for too long. As we looked around her house, we saw things. Not just things you would have in your home. Skeletons. Weapons. Burnt books on the floor. I was getting an eerie feeling. I knew this wasn’t safe. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” the woman said, a smile beaming across her face. I saw black chunks that looked like they would be bugs, which they probably were.

“Oh no it’s okay. I think our mother is waiting for us. She cooked our favorite meal, a warm stew with mashed potatoes on the side,” my big brother said, knowing exactly how to smoothly exit the conversation

She said nothing. Her mouth still smiling, but her eyes told a different story. “Stay,” was all she said.

“Let’s go, Kayla,” he said. He slowly walked along the broken floor boards, trying to be as calm as possible without making her think we were frightened.

She stood there. Hands at her sides. Still looking. I was about to run. But I didn’t. I followed him until we got her her dirty floor mat.

He put his hand on the door knob. Turning it ever so slightly, he tried to open it. One turn. Two. Three. Four.

“The door is locked,” said the woman, with her beady, old eyes.