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I knelt beside the mattress and pressed the blade against the fabric.
Then I made the first cut.
The instant the material split open, the smell exploded.
I vomited almost immediately.
Steping back, I covered my nose, coughing so hard my eyes filled with tears.
It was worse than I’d imagined.
Not just bad.
Not just disgusting.
Unbearable.
The stench of something locked away for too long.
Something damp.
Something spoiled.
Something that should never have been hidden where I’d been sleeping every night.
My hands trembled as I forced myself closer.
I cut deeper.
The foam began to split open.
And then I saw it.
It wasn’t a dead animal.
It wasn’t old food.
It wasn’t just mold.
A large plastic bag was buried inside the mattress, tightly wrapped, its surface marked with dark, damp patches. For a moment, I couldn’t move.
I just stared.
My whole body went cold.
Because what Miguel had hidden there… he had done it carefully.
Deliberately.
As if he never wanted it to be found.
With trembling hands, I reached in and pulled out the bag.
And the moment I opened it…
My legs gave way.
Because what was inside that mattress wasn’t just terrifying.
It was proof of a truth I had been too afraid to admit for a very, very long time.
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