I was prepared for bodies

“Think she’ll be in this time?” Keegan asked stepping up to the door.

Ledger shrugged, and tried the bell.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home, does it?"

Keegan glanced up at the front of the house, then stepped across the long grass to peer through the bay window.

"Lights are off," Ledger said. "Curtains shut. Looks empty."

Keegan frowned. "She’s not answering. Doesn’t mean it’s empty."

She edged past the overgrown hedgerow that lined the path beside the house, ducked under a low branch and knocked on the side door. It looked disused, but it was worth a try. There was no sound when she pressed the doorbell. She moved on, towards the garden at the rear of the house.

Her partner joined her.

"Nosy," he said.

"I think you mean, Thorough," she said, standing on tiptoe to look through the kitchen window.

That's when they heard it. A noise, from inside the house. Gutteral groaning.

"What's that?" Keegan asked, his eyebrows raised.

They both fell silent, listening hard. Something was scratching around on the upper floor.

"Do you think it could be some sort of animal?" Keegan asked. "Surely it can't be a-"

The thing moaned again, and they looked at each other. Keegan reached for her radio to call it in. Ledger went back to the side door, and drove his boot into the frame.

+

Inside, the air was wrong. It smelled like houses do when they're unaired and poorly cared for. There was a layer of dustiness, but there was something else. Something foul.

They moved through the ground floor methodically. Hallway, dining area, kitchen, and then circling back to check the lounge. Nobody there.

Whatever it was moaned again, and there was thumping as well this time. It definitely sounded almost human, now. A person, screaming through a gag. That's what it sounded like.

Keegan kept up a steady stream of updates, and when the boot didn't work this time, Ledger tried his shoulder. The muffled shrieking intensified, and the banging bad a frantic edge.

The frame splintered. The door swung inward.

The smell hit first. Sweat, blood, shit. The man was crouched in the corner, blinking against the light. His mouth was a mess of rips and stitches. Some of them had ripped, and dangled from the torn skin. He looked up, eyes unfocused, and screamed some more.

+

Within fifteen minutes, Stratford arrived. He stood side for the paramedics and the stretcher, and tried to avoid breathing through his nose.

Keegan was on her way out as well. She looked pale as paper.

"You alright?"

She swallowed.

"Mm. Just on my way to... to... to coordinate with forensics when they get here. And if I'm honest, I need some air "

"Is he talking? Did he tell you how long he was here?"

Keegan shook her head.

"Not clearly. He’s disoriented, and, well, his mouth was..." She swallowed again.

Stratford glanced upward.

"That bad?"

"Definitely not great."

Stratford headed up the stairs.

+++++

Thank you for reading