As I tiptoed through the cemetery, I was pretty sure someone was watching me. I was certain no one had followed me so whoever it was must have already been here. Waiting. 

If I could only get to the other side of the cemetery and to the street, I knew I could make it out. Knew I would be safe. The quickest way to the rest of my life was straight through the middle when I really wanted to stay hidden among the trees that surrounded the small country cemetery. But I hadn’t counted on spraining my ankle on my way through the forest to get to the cemetery. 

If I hadn’t sprained my ankle, I was sure I would already be out of the cemetery and back into the real world. I had thought a weekend away from the hustle and bustle of city life would be good for my stress levels, but my stress had managed to triple in the day and a half I had been staying in my uncle’s cabin. Not long after I got there, it was obvious someone else had been there recently as well. My uncle had swore up, down, left and right no one had been in the house for at least a month and no one would be there again for another two weeks. 

Which didn’t explain the lack of dust in the house or the smell of cigarettes at the back door. I tried to explain it away in every possible way, but when I had seen a man staring at the house just as the sun rose, I knew I was not alone. He made his presence known again in the early hours of the morning and I was now on the run. Running for my life. Had I realized it was my cousin who was hiding in the woods – disguised – I never would have stepped one foot anywhere near the cabin. He was supposed to be dead.