‘Mr Crawford?’ The noises stopped. Hannah reached the door and pushed it open. ‘Oh god,’ she said, her eyes darting across the room. ‘Oh Jesus Christ.’ Only then did the smell hit her, a charnel house stench that flipped her stomach as she struggled to take in the obscenity before her, her mind performing mental backflips to comprehend the bizarre horror behind the door. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘I won’t tell. I won’t tell anyone. Just please, let me go.’ She staggered backwards and he came for her.
