Everything went wrong from that point. Not just downhill; down into subterranean caverns where only creatures without eyes live.

It had been a stressful day at work, and all he wanted to do was get home and drink until he forgot all about the pain-in-the-*ss clients. But fate had another idea.

His patience (or lack thereof) couldn’t tolerate the traffic- he screeched onto a dirt road. It should’ve been quiet. The sun had set, and the weather was taking a turn for the worse. He could speed right along this shortcut through the forest and get home before the thunder reached its crescendo. He almost laughed at how smart he was.

Then the accident happened.

He didn’t see her run out into the road, but he definitely heard her small body hit the windshield and tumble over the roof. He slammed the breaks so hard he thought his foot might go through the floor.

“Oh sh*t... oh no... oh f*ck...” he panicked, bending over her limp form. No point in checking for a pulse; her neck was barely attached to her body. He choked on a sob. He had killed a little girl.

“It seems you’re in quite the predicament,” a voice rumbled behind him. He turned around, but could only make out a shadowy figure.

“I-I didn’t mean to... she just... ran out in front of my car!”

“I don’t care,” laughed the mysterious man, “but I’m happy to help you clean up. You just have to say yes.”

He stared at the outstretched hand.

“Just shake on it, and this will all go away-“

“No. I don’t know who the f*ck you are but this is really messed up.” He popped the trunk and lifted the body into it. He banged it shut and the figure was there. “Sh*t, man! Leave me alone!”

As he drove away, he could see the shadowy figure still standing there. Watching. As his wipers cleared the streaks of rain from his back window, they also appeared to clear the figure. He must be hallucinating. In fact, he’s probably dreaming. He’ll wake up soon.

He did not wake up. Not after he’d buried her in his garden and scrubbed so hard at his skin in the shower that he began to bleed. Not even after he’d finished a bottle of scotch.

Despite the alcohol, he lay awake in bed.

What was that? Footsteps? No, just the heavy rain. He was paranoid. A monster. He’d go to the police tomorrow. Her family deserved the truth...

He jolted awake, not even realising he’d fallen asleep. Someone was in his house. It was that creep from before- he must’ve followed him home! No. These footsteps were too light for a full-grown man...

The dirty, bloody corpse lunged at him: head hanging, eyes open.

One thought- his last thought- slipped across his mind as her hands slipped around his neck:

He should have shaken the man’s hand.