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The Fifth Victim
Category: Thriller
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.