“Mate.”
That one word still echoed in my head as morning light slipped through the dusty windows. I hadn’t slept. That voice from last night kept ringing in my ears. It was deep and strange, not like any voice I’d ever heard. I held my knife the whole night. My hand was still stiff from how tightly I gripped it.
A loud knock made me jump.
“Hello? Anyone home?” a deep voice called from outside.
I had been scrubbing the kitchen floor for hours. It was my way of trying to forget what happened. My hands were sore and red, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the journal and the person it belonged to. None of it made sense.
“I’m coming!” I shouted, slipping the knife into my pocket. My heart was pounding. I walked to the door and peeked through the foggy glass.
There was a man standing o
