He seems nice enough when he first gets in. He’s got a charming smile, and his eyes are lined with purplish eyebags that make him look tired, unassuming.

It’s odd for such a rich guy to be using rideshare, but whatever. You’re his driver and he’s your passenger and that’s that.

And then tells you it’s not really his house. That he killed the people inside. He tells you to pull up swap seats so he can drive. You obey, considering the knife he’s holding.

“It’s time for a road trip!” he mocks.