We had no idea that our recently acquired dream home would completely upend our life until we discovered a hidden area. We had to move out as a result of what we discovered inside, but we had no idea that this nightmare would bring about an unforeseen turn of events.
I never imagined that I would wake up in a horror movie, yet that is exactly where I am. For years, Jack and I had been saving money to purchase our first house. I was ecstatic when we eventually received the keys. We immediately got to work on the improvements, with me leading the way while Jack concentrated on his task.
“Liv, you sure you’re okay managing all this?” The night before the renovations started, Jack inquired. Encircled by boxes, we reclined on our air mattress that we had borrowed.
I rolled my eyes. “I can handle this. Mr. Big Shot, you put your work first.”
Jack laughed and drew me in. “All right, all right. Just don’t enjoy yourself excessively without me.”
Everything was normal on Tuesday morning, until it changed. As I was enjoying my coffee and browsing through my phone, Carlos, the leader of our renovation team, contacted me.
He exclaimed, “Olivia, you gotta see this.”
Curious about what they’d discovered, I strolled over. Carlos gestured to a piece of the wall they had recently demolished. There was a door there, concealed by years of paint and drywall.
I said, “What do you think it is?”
Carlos gave a shrug. “I have no idea. Would you like to open it?”
I reached for the doorknob and nodded. I opened the creaking door and looked inside. My enthusiasm soon gave way to fear. Shuddering, I slammed the door shut.
“What’s wrong?” Carlos enquired, his expression filled with worry.
I was unable to talk. Reaching for my phone, I punched in Jack’s number. He detected the third ring.
“Hi Liv. What’s going on?”
“Jack, you must return home. Right now.”
“What? Why? Is everything in order?
Taking a deep breath, I tried to control my voice. Something was discovered inside the home. You must view it.
Jack didn’t dispute, so he must have heard the panic in my voice. “I’m on my way.”
I paced back and forth in front of the secret entrance while I waited for Jack. Although Carlos and his team continued to work, I could sense their wondering looks.
“You okay, Olivia?” Carlos paused his efforts to ask.
I nodded, not believing I could talk. My mind was buzzing with ideas. And what if it was a haunted house? What if we had discovered a sinister secret?
Jack was panting heavily when he got there. “Olivia, what’s going on?”
Taking his hand, I guided him towards the entrance. I remarked, “Look,” and carefully opened it.
Jack gasped in shock at what he saw. There were ancient garments in the concealed area that had originally been a closet. The worst part, though, wasn’t that. Insects crawled all over, and mold covered the garments. There was an overpowering smell, and spiders had taken up residence in the corners.
Jack mumbled, “Holy —,” and slammed the door. “How long has that been there?”
I gave a headshake. “I’m not sure. It was never brought up by the realtor.”
For a few while, we stood there in quiet, taking in what we had just witnessed. At last, Jack said something.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
Leave a Reply