“I have been seeing a car, sitting in the driveway of my neighbors yard for around fifteen days now. It never moves. Its sketchy.” I say to my therapist.

“You’re paranoid, it must be a work car that only drives during the night.” She answers.

“I am not paranoid, I have been up all night before. I watch that very car.” I respond. “I know there is something wrong with her,” I explain to my therapist.

“You are crazy, she sounds like a normal person. You are paranoid, do you want meds for it?” She asks me.

“I am not crazy, nor do I need pills to help with this.” I respond

Each session has been like this, nobody believes my theory. I hear the rusty chainsaws in her shed, I smell the suspicious strong smell of bleach, and I see the glare when she looks at people.

I am finally home, but I hear the doorbell ring. I open the door to see the creepy neighbor.

“Would you like some scones, they are in my house. Come, come!” She says. I have been in her house before, but this time is different. Part of me says that I should stay home, but I have to investigate.

“Here you go, Clara.” She says as she hands me the scones. How does she know my name? What is the smell of bleach from? What is the car outside doing? I have so many questions for her that I can’t ask. Instead I ask to go to the restroom. I see an empty bag of sodium hydroxide and a bag of scopolamine. “What are you doing in here? The bathroom is across the hall.” She says with a wicked smile across her face. “Uh-“ I stutter, “just looking for some extra hand soap…”

“You can be honest, Honey.” She says walking me to another room “This is the basement door. I have got to show you some of my soap that I make.” Maybe she is just a normal neighbor.

“So you make soap? Is that for a living?” I say “Mhm, here is one of my favorites” she responds, handing me a honey scented soap bar. We go to the kitchen to finally eat the scones. She sounds nice, maybe I should trust her.

I take a bite of the scone. “How was your day?” She says.

“Pretty good, you?” I respond

“Same with me,” She says

“I need some air.” I say toddling toward the front door as I fall, “You drugged me?”

“You know it!” She hisses, smirking at me.

I wake up with a pounding headache. What happened?

“Hello Clara. Would you like to know what happened?” A voice says, coming through the speaker.

“Yes, please,” I say, looking up to the speaker. “Who are you?”

“You can’t know that just yet, but I will tell you what happened,” They say “you came to my house to eat scones, they were laced with concentrated morphine.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask

“Because you are going to die, Clara.”