Part One: The Trip That Started Like an Adventure

It all started with a spontaneous idea and a shared love for adventure—or at least, her love for it. My friend, who’s younger than me and already a mom, is what I’d call a free spirit. She’s the kind of person who’d pack a diaper bag and hit the road in the same breath. So when she suggested a weekend trip to Chicago, I said yes without hesitation.

I’d always wanted to see the famous silver bean. It felt like one of those “bucket list” things you just have to check off someday. The plan was simple: drive up, explore the city, have fun. What could go wrong with two young women and a baby on a road trip, right?

We left around 1 p.m. after I got off work, music blasting through the car speakers. She had put together this perfectly curated playlist—everything from throwbacks to songs we could dramatically sing along to. Between laughter, pictures, and car karaoke, the miles melted away.

Now, my friend may be many things, but a calm driver isn’t one of them. I’ve never seen someone weave through traffic with that much confidence and still manage to get us there and back without a single ticket—or a dent.

At one point, she had to pull over to feed her baby. So there we were—parked on the side of the road, surrounded by endless fields of corn. The world felt still for a moment, just quiet country air and the faint hum of insects. Then, a truck slowed down, passed us, made a U-turn, and stopped across the road.

The driver rolled down his window. My friend rolled down hers.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

She smiled politely and said, “Just feeding the baby.”

He nodded, said nothing more, and drove off. But for the next thirty minutes, I couldn’t shake this strange feeling crawling up my spine.

We drove into a small town soon after—if you could even call it that. No gas station, no stores, just a few quiet houses lined up against the darkening sky. Something felt off, but I tried to brush it aside. I was here to make memories, not paranoia.

By the time we arrived at our Airbnb, the sun had completely set. The GPS said, “You have arrived,” just as we pulled up to a house that looked like something straight out of a vintage thriller.

Under the warm glow of the porch light stood a man—a still silhouette, like he’d been waiting for us. My heart skipped a beat, but he smiled and waved, motioning for us to come in.

He showed us the space we’d be staying in for the next two nights. The air inside smelled like old wallpaper and oil lamps, thick with that antique scent that somehow feels both cozy and unsettling. As I followed behind him, every creak of the floorboard echoed louder in my mind.

That’s when my inner voice whispered—start planning your escape, just in case.....