Echoes of Insanity

After making ten trips, I was on my last. It was growing dark, and I could barely see my own legs. But I knew this path well—I walked it every day, so I knew exactly where to step.

"I could do this in my sleep," I thought, a hint of confidence lifting my spirits. But deep down, I was scared. I could hear howling in the distance. I didn't have my hunting knife with me, and I regretted it. I should have brought it on this last trip, but it would've made the load heavier. Besides, I'd been so sure the wolves would stay in their territory.

They always howled, but never this loudly, or this close.

What could it be? I didn't like the feeling. My heart was pounding, fear stirring in the unknown.

Finally, with one last step, I exited the forest. The farm greeted me as always—the fields were untouched, the house was unharmed, and the barn was alive with the usual sounds of pigs and goats.

With a sigh of relief, I smiled and set the buckets down. I sank to the ground, gazing up at the two moons in the sky, one larger than the other. I didn't know their names, but they were beautiful. Nature always had a way of calming me. To me, the Creator's work was truly magnificent.

I stopped daydreaming—or maybe nightdreaming, since it was technically night—and as I got up, I froze.

Peter was standing nearby, covered in blood, tears streaming down his face.

My mind spun. Everything looked fine—the farm was untouched. So why was Peter covered in blood?

"Did someone die? Did something happen to the twins?" My heart raced as I prepared to sprint toward the house, but Peter blocked me.

"What the hell, man?" I shouted, my anger boiling over.

"They're okay," Peter said in a broken voice, his gaze cast down.

"Liar!" I snapped without thinking.

"They are..."

"Then why are you covered in blood?" I demanded, my mind racing to piece things together. Was it a bandit attack? Did Peter fight them off? Where were the bodies?

"It's... it's the Farmer Joe blood," Peter finally said.

My mind went blank, and I fell to the ground, my thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

After what felt like an eternity, I burst out

laughing, but the sound was hollow. "This is bad," I said, my voice growing serious. "Really bad."

"It is. So, what's the plan?" Peter asked.

I stared at him, surprised. "What do you mean, 'what's the plan?' I'm not part of this. You killed him, not me. As far as I'm concerned, you're a murderer."

"Cut the crap," Peter said urgently. "What do you think I should do?"

"Did you hide the body?" I asked, getting to my feet and heading toward the owner's office.

The farmhouse was divided into four rooms: the master's office and bedroom, the cafeteria, the women's room, and the men's room. There was also a small kitchen and one bathroom. The Farmer Joe room was at the back of the house, which was where I was headed—with Peter trailing nervously behind me.

When we reached the back of the house, I lifted the window and climbed inside. The sight stopped me cold.

In the middle of the room lay a large man dressed in black, now soaked in red. His neck was slit open, blood covering his face. I moved closer, my stomach tightening.

Multiple stab wounds covered his face—one near his eye, another along his jawline, and one near his ear. Bits of metal glinted in the wounds.

The blood on the wooden floor hadn't dried yet. I touched it, feeling its stickiness. "Peter, grab a shirt from the closet and a bucket of water. We need to clean this up before it dries," I said, my voice cold and firm.

"What are we going to do with the body?" Peter asked, rummaging through the closet.

"Feed it to the wolves."

"How? We can't just hand it over and say, 'Here, eat this,'" Peter shot back, irritation creeping into his voice.

"You should've thought of that before you killed him. You shouldn't have acted so impulsively," I snapped.

Before he could argue, I cut him off. "Just grab the bucket of water and shut up."

Peter clicked his tongue but did as I said.

Meanwhile, I took a shirt from the closet and wrapped it tightly around the owner's face, tying it in place. Then I hoisted the body over my shoulder. Before leaving, I grabbed the sword hanging on the wall.

The next day, everything seemed normal. I woke up early, before anyone else, and went to water the cornfield with Peter.

Peter had dark circles under his eyes, his hands shaky with nerves. But unlike him, I wasn't anxious. Not because I wasn't involved, but because I liked being prepared. I had set everything in motion and done it perfectly. Now, I just needed to make sure everything stayed that way.

As Peter headed to the garden, I slipped back to the farmer joe's room to double-check everything. I sniffed the floor, detecting a faint metallic scent of blood. Grabbing a bottle of cologne, I poured it on the spot and spread it with my foot.

Then, I headed to Alicia's room and knocked. She opened the door after a moment, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

I stepped inside and closed the door. "Farmer Joe is dead. And I know you've figured that out by now," I said coldly. "You're going to act like nothing happened."

I let the words hang in the air before continuing. "Tomorrow morning, report that he's missing. Tell the chief that he left you some work and then went camping. If you don't, I'll make sure you regret it."

To make my point clear, I pulled out my corn knife, the blade sharp enough to kill bugs in the field, and pointed it at her.

Her face went pale, and she trembled.

"Yes, I'm serious," I said, my voice like ice.

"You know how much he loves camping in the woods, and if this shit goes south we are all dead"

She swallowed hard, nodding. "Yes," she whispered.

Satisfied, I left her room and returned to the cornfield. Grabbing Peter by the chest, I shook him. "Stop acting like a coward. Man up. You need to act normal. Everything's in place. If anyone gets suspicious, we're screwed."

Tears streamed down Peter's face, and his weakness infuriated me.

I lifted him off the ground effortlessly, despite him being taller and heavier than me. "If you mess this up, I swear, I'll be the first to take you down. You hear me?"

"There's nothing stopping me from living my life. I'll end you before I become a slave to this. Got it?"

Peter nodded, fear etched across his face.

Suddenly, a voice called out, startling me. "Hey, what's going on?"

I turned around, my heart pounding, to see who was walking towards us, in the cornfield.