o.
“Then maybe I’ll go by myself?” I suggested.
“No!” he snapped. “I’d worry.
Don’t go alone.”
His sharp refusal only deepened my doubts. When he left home, I decided to follow him.
And as expected, he drove to the dacha.
I waited some time, then went too. Approaching the house, my chest pounded. I opened the door… and froze with horror.
Anything would have been better than what I saw.
I stepped inside and listened.
Silence. But from the shed came a strange smell—thick, sweet-metallic.
I entered slowly, heart racing. Inside, animal skins dangled from beams.
That was unsettling enough, but one thing made me nearly collapse: hanging among them was something that looked disturbingly like human skin.
I stood frozen, unable to believe my eyes. At that moment, my husband appeared in the doorway. His face went pale when he noticed what I had seen.
“It’s… hunting,” he muttered, moving toward me.
“I just began. I didn’t want to frighten you…”
I gazed silently.
Inside I screamed he was lying. But outwardly I forced a smile and replied:
— Alright.
I understand.
Just unpredicted…
He relaxed, his shoulders sinking. We walked back quietly, but I felt his eyes imprinting on me, testing whether I truly believed. That night I didn’t sleep at all.
In the morning, as soon as he went outside, I called the police with shaking hands.
I knew it was safer to let them check than risk discovering the worst myself.
