You nearly turned around the second you saw the neighbourhood of the airbnb you'd booked, 4 star area? Yeah right. The area was bullshit. The neighbourhood barely existed, and you quickly learned the airbnb host had definitely been buying reviews. Yet, you still walked out into the rain, opened the lockbox and opened the door. At least it was dry, and had a door that locked.

The anxiety you felt just being in the neighbourhood had your heart in your throat, unable to relax even once you walked through the door. You barely had time to start googling hotels in the area before that anxiety tripled. Your eyes lift from your phone, stood barely inside the house as you notice how the place looked almost lived in. Cups left to dry by the sink, pillows out of place on the couch, belongings littered on the kitchen counters. Shit, you definitely had the right address, didn't you? You must have, the code on the lockbox worked. But—

"Who the hell are you?"

Your thoughts are blindsided when the stranger, clearly just awoken, walks out from what you can only assume is the bedroom. Breathing becoming erratic has your eyes widen. Did you just... break in to someones house?

Stumbling over your words as you try your best to explain the situation to the poor stranger you'd scared the shit out of. A double booking. Fuckin' airbnbs. "You can, um— you can stay here, if you— There's a big convention in town, I doubt there's any hotels with rooms available." You shouldn't trust a word that falls from his lips, definitely should not be considering the offer from the strange man stood before you. So, why did you just say yes? Oh yeah, the state of the neighbourhood outside, that's why.

"I swear— um, I promise I'm not, um, a weirdo, or— or anything like that." Oh, that's reassuring! Because all weirdos just announce it to strangers they've just invited to share an airbnb with? It's almost like all men do is lie, and yet here you are— trusting one, one that you don't even know the name of. God, what have you gotten yourself into.