A Terrifying Honeymoon

Honeymooning with my husband, we were tucked away on an island retreat.

At 8 p.m., an old mute lady had suddenly shown up at our hotel room door.

She was clutching a stark white note in her hand: [He's planning to murder you!]

"Knock, knock, knock!"

Mike was showering, and I was knee-deep in our suitcase when that unsettling knocking started.

It caught me off-guard.

Who could it have been at this time?

The hotel staff have a bell for that.

Besides, wouldn't the front desk have given us a ring first?

It was just Mike and me here for our honeymoon.

No acquaintances around these parts.

Who'd have popped up looking for us?

Through the peephole, all I could see was this old woman, her clothes ragged and hanging off her.

Her expression was all kinds of worried, her eyes murky with fright, lips quivering.

She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

But it was just a little old lady. I eased up and cracked the door just enough to talk.

"Yes? How can I help you?" I asked, lowering my voice.

"Uh... uh... uh..."

She stammered, her hands flailing, struggling to find her words.

"Come again?"

I was clueless about what she was trying to get across.

Realizing I wasn't getting it, she became more distressed, her eyes welling up, her gestures more pronounced.

It looked urgent.

I shouldn't have kept her waiting.

I softened, fishing out a pen and paper from my purse and slipping it through the door gap.

She wrote something in a hurry and thrust the paper back at me.

On it, scrawled in shaky letters: [He's going to kill you!]

Excuse me?

This lady had lost it, right?

I'd have been crazy to stick around.

"Spout any more crazy, and I'm calling the cops!" I warned her, then slammed the door shut and double-locked it for good measure.

It's a mad world out there, with every kind of people.

Just last week, I'd read about newlyweds lured from their hotel. Still missing.

The thought sent shivers down my spine.

Good thing I hadn't hesitated.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

My pride in my quick thinking was short-lived as the knocks echoed again.

The same gentle pattern, just enough to be audible in the living room.

I took another look.

It was her again.

What now?

I was getting a bit spooked, thinking about dialing the front desk.

She must have felt my gaze because she lifted the note once more to the peephole.

This time it read: [You're Jessica Sands, your husband's Mike Sands. You're here to celebrate your love.]

She knew us?

If she did, then when she said "he", she meant Mike!

My husband, plotting against me?!

I gasped, a cold dread slithering up my spine like a serpent.

What more did she know?

I gathered my courage, shaky hands and all, and pulled the door open to ask her directly.

But she had vanished!

I stuck my head out, scanning the hallway—nothing.

"Jess?"

It was Mike.

I slammed the door, my heart racing.

"What happened? Who was knocking?"

His hair was damp as he wiped it with a towel.

I dodged his look, my pulse racing. "Nothing, thought I heard something, probably just the wind."

"Should we grab a bite?" I deflected, settling back on the sofa, and cracking open the room service that had just arrived.

Our flight was early tomorrow.

After a week on the road, we were pretty beat, figured we'd just eat in tonight amidst the packing.

But I couldn't shake the old woman's words, and my appetite had vanished.

I just nibbled on some bread.

Mike, clearly hungrier, cleaned up the leftovers.

Everything seemed normal until...

Something's off!

One dish was a chilled beef salad sprinkled with green onions.

Mike had never been one for onions, yet that night, he hadn't missed a single one.

Was this man really the Mike I knew?