Rain slammed against the cabin windows as Drew paced the floor, hands trembling. His phone buzzed. No service.

He glanced at the bedroom door—locked from the outside. His girlfriend, Kara, hadn’t spoken in hours.
“Just let me in!” he pleaded.
No answer.

When he pressed his ear to the door, he heard soft whimpering.

He tried to kick the door down, but it wouldn’t budge. His chest tightened. She was hurt—she had to be.

Grabbing the axe by the fireplace, he swung at the door, splintering the wood.
“I’m coming!”

He burst in.

Kara lay trembling in the corner, eyes wide with terror. She clutched a knife.
“Stay away! You’re sick!” she sobbed.

Drew frowned.
“Wh-what?”

She **pointed behind him**.

Drew turned. The **real intruder**—bloodied and grinning—**stood in the doorway**, holding the axe he’d just dropped.