THE HOUSE THAT KEPT ITS SECRETS
Rachel had been struggling for months. Life seemed to be piling up on her all at once. Her little brother’s medical bills were rising faster than she could pay them, full-time university classes were draining her energy, and the late-night shifts at the diner left her exhausted.
The excitement of being accepted to a university in a new city was quickly overshadowed by one big problem: finding affordable housing. She was sure she couldn’t afford the expensive dorms or apartments, and she feared she would have to give up her dreams of studying.
Then, just when Rachel thought she had hit rock bottom, she found something that seemed like an answer to her prayers. An ad for a cozy room in a house rented by a sweet, elderly lady popped up.
The price was incredibly low, too good to be true. The pictures showed a quaint home decorated with vintage furniture and floral wallpaper. The ad read: “Perfect for a quiet, respectful female tenant. No pets, no smoking.” It seemed like the perfect place to escape her struggles.
Excited but cautious, Rachel made the call. When she arrived at Mrs. Wilkins’s house, she was greeted by the warm, lavender-scented embrace of the old woman. Mrs. Wilkins was a sight to behold, with neatly pinned gray hair and a soft, motherly smile. “Oh, you must be Rachel!” she said, her voice filled with kindness.
“You’re even lovelier than I imagined. Come in, dear, come in!”
Rachel stepped into the house, her worries starting to fade as she looked around. The place was charming, almost like something from a storybook. There were little knick-knacks on every shelf, lace curtains that let the sunlight filter through, and the comforting scent of homemade vegetable soup drifting from the kitchen. Everything seemed perfect.
At dinner, Mrs. Wilkins leaned across the table, her smile wide but her eyes focused and sharp. “Tell me about your family, dear,” she asked, her voice sugary sweet but oddly probing. Rachel hesitated, then shared a little about her late parents and her younger brother, Tommy, who was staying with their aunt while Rachel was in school.
Mrs. Wilkins’s smile flickered for just a moment. “How convenient,” she murmured. “And it’s just you here now, then?”
Rachel nodded, feeling a slight chill but brushing it off. “Yes, just me.”
Mrs. Wilkins clasped her hands together, her expression tightening with a strange satisfaction. “Well, you’ll be safe here, Rachel. I’ll make sure of it.”
That night, Rachel slept better than she had in months, her body exhausted from the stress, yet feeling strangely at peace. The house felt like a safe haven—until the next morning.
The next day, Rachel woke up early, eager to get started on her new life. She made her way to the kitchen, looking forward to her first cup of coffee. But when she saw it, everything changed. On the fridge, a long list was taped in bold, red letters: “HOUSE RULES – READ CAREFULLY.”
Her heart sank. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she began to read.
- No keys will be provided. Mrs. Wilkins will let you in between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. only.
- The bathroom is locked at all times. You must request the key and return it immediately after use.
- Your bedroom door must remain open at all times. Privacy breeds secrets.
- No meat in the fridge. Mrs. Wilkins is a vegetarian and does not tolerate carnivores.
- You must leave the house every Sunday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Mrs. Wilkins has her “ladies’ tea.”
- No visitors. Ever. Not even family.
- Mrs. Wilkins reserves the right to enter your room whenever she pleases.
- Cell phone usage is restricted to 30 minutes daily, monitored by Mrs. Wilkins.
- No music allowed. Mrs. Wilkins requires absolute peace.
- You are not allowed to cook your own food without Mrs. Wilkins’s consent.
- You may use the shower only three times a week.
- “**** RESERVED FOR LATER ****”
Rachel’s hands shook as she read the last line. Reserved for later? What did that even mean?
Suddenly, she heard Mrs. Wilkins’s voice behind her. “Good morning, dear,” she said, her voice almost too sweet. “Did you read the rules?” Rachel jumped, startled. She turned to find Mrs. Wilkins standing in the doorway, her eyes no longer as warm as before. They were sharp—calculating.
“I… yes,” Rachel stammered, trying to mask the rising panic in her chest.
“And?” Mrs. Wilkins asked, her smile growing wider, revealing teeth that seemed just a little too sharp. “Are they acceptable?”
“They’re… thorough,” Rachel managed, her voice shaky.
Mrs. Wilkins stepped closer, her presence suffocating. “Thorough is what keeps us safe, dear,” she said, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “Safety is everything.”
That was when Rachel’s instincts screamed at her to leave. As soon as Mrs. Wilkins left the house to tend to her garden, Rachel scrambled to pack her things. The floorboards creaked loudly under her feet, each sound making her pulse race faster. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to shift, closing in on her.
Then, she heard it—a crackling voice coming from somewhere in the house. It was calm, but unnerving. “Leaving so soon, dear?” Mrs. Wilkins’s voice echoed through an intercom Rachel hadn’t noticed before. “You didn’t ask for permission.”
Rachel froze. Her heart pounded as she quickly grabbed her suitcase and ran to the door. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to leave.
As she opened the door to escape, Mrs. Wilkins’s voice called out again, this time from behind her: “Remember, Rachel: Everything is worth discussing. Always.”
Rachel didn’t stop to look back.
Hours later, Rachel sat on a park bench, her suitcase beside her, feeling numb. She was trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. How could she have missed all the red flags? How had she not realized the danger she was in? That’s when a young man approached her. He smiled kindly and offered her a coffee.
His name was Ethan. As Rachel shared her strange and frightening experience, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he nodded as if he understood exactly what she was saying.
“People like that don’t just have rules,” he said, his voice steady. “They have reasons. Dark reasons.”
Ethan helped Rachel find a new place—an apartment with normal rules and friendly housemates. Over the next few weeks, Rachel started to feel safe again, surrounded by people who respected her privacy and treated her like a person, not a prisoner. But late at night, when the house was quiet, she sometimes thought back to Mrs. Wilkins’s house—the locked bathroom, the weird rules, the reserved for later line.
She’d shudder at the thought of what might have happened if she had stayed. And even now, as she settled into her new life, one thing haunted her thoughts, a chilling reminder of the house she’d escaped from: “Everything is worth discussing. Always.”
What would you have done if you were in Rachel’s shoes? Let me know in the comments below!
