You're taken aback—deeply.
Since when was this a choice? The trust you'd built with Bradley, the quiet friendship forged over tea and biscuits, now felt like a fraying rope. The look in his eyes earlier… it wasn't the look of a friend anymore. It was something sharper.
Something circling the edge of dangerous.
Would he really kill you if you didn't follow through?
You glance at Therley, unconscious and slumped. That's when you see it.
A mouse, creeping slowly up the base of the pole—oblivious, innocent. And then, something clicks. You clutch the half-hedge clipper tighter and swing—not at Therley—but at the pole, slicing clean through the mouse.
Blood splatters across Therley's neck.
The pole jolts from the impact, and Therley's head falls to the side, limp against his shoulder. His whole body sags convincingly. Like a puppet with its strings cut.
It's enough.
Bradley watches, silent, then gives a simple, approving nod.
"Good job," he mutters coldly. "Now go back into the house. Turns out he dropped some things from his pockets when he was running, so he didn't actually lose all his tools. We'll go through his stuff and find out if he still has a way of communication."
And just like that, he strides off.
You stand there for a second, the cicadas buzzing outside in slow rhythmic waves. The sound has never felt so eerie. So… aware.
You crouch beside Therley again. He hasn't moved.
You raise your hand and slap his cheek, avoiding the blood. Nothing.
You slap harder.
This time, his eyes twitch. Not fully open—but responsive.
You exhale, just barely.
He's alive. You managed to fool Bradley—for now. But how long will this trick hold?