The Walls Have Eyes

Mr. Owen met Hailey at the door and told her he was leaving for business. She walked into the house with her single duffel bag, grateful she wouldn't be on the street. The place felt empty and expensive, and she smiled at the silence. Two nights later the silence broke. A glass moved on the counter when she hadn't touched it. A shadow slid past the hallway light. Every time she turned, something darted out of sight. She called his name once. Nothing answered. She stopped calling. When she caught him, he stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, watching her undress. No apology, no excuse. He said the trip was fake. This was the fourth girl he'd watched, the first caught. He told her she looked right in his house, that the money she scraped together barely paid for gas. Then he offered the deal straight: stay permanent, keep the room, spread her legs whenever he wanted. In exchange, no rent, no eviction, no walking the streets with a suitcase. Hailey felt sick, but the rent amount he'd mentioned still floated behind her eyes. She swallowed and nodded once.