So, I went up to our cottage without telling my husband, just to see what he was really up toand honestly, I wish I hadnt.
Weve got this little cottage in the countryside, right? Used to go there every weekendplanting flowers, picking veg from the garden, just escaping the city noise. But lately, he kept making excuses not to go. Work, tiredness, errandsyou name it. Didnt think much of it at first. Everyone has rough patches, yeah?
Then my neighbour, Sarah, mentioned off-hand, Oh, saw your bloke at the cottage yesterday.
I froze. Thats impossible. He was on shift.
Nah, definitely him, she insisted.
My stomach dropped. Was he cheating? Sneaking someone up there?
Next weekend, he bailed again. Maybe Ill pop up alone? I suggested.
No! he snapped. Id worry. Dont go by yourself.
That sealed it. Next time he left, I followed. Straight to the cottage.
I gave him a head start, then drove up. Heart pounding, I pushed open the door and nearly screamed. Honestly, Id have preferred another woman.
Creeping inside, the place was dead silentbut the shed reeked of something metallic, sickly sweet. I stepped in, pulse racing, and God. Animal pelts hung from the beams. Bad enough. But one one looked too much like *human* skin.
I couldnt breathe.
Then he appeared in the doorway, white as a sheet. Itsjust hunting, he stammered, stepping closer. Didnt want to scare you
I forced a nod, playing along. Right. Just took me by surprise.
He relaxed. But his eyes followed me all evening, like he was testing if Id really bought it.
Didnt sleep a wink. Soon as he left next morning, I rang the police, hands shaking. Better safe than sorrybecause if my gut was right, God knows what else was out there.
