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You cross the living room to meet the pair as they leave your house. "One thing before you go, Lyle, if that's your real name," you say.

"What?" Lyle says.

You pull the cane out of his hand and toss it onto the couch. "Kneel down."

He stares at you, then lowers himself to the floor in a slow, stuttered motion.

"We made a mistake," Jillian says, her voice cracked and sullen. "You're just going to let us leave, and we'll never come back."

"He's not letting us leave, Jillian," Lyle says.

The young woman breaks down and stumbles over to the couch.

"Come here!" you yell, grabbing her wrist and yanking her next to Lyle.

"Why? We made a mistake!" Jillian says in a hysterical voice. "This isn't happening!"

A cold wind blows outside, and you hear the gust rattling the windows. Though no snow is falling, the weight of the weather hangs in the air. It's warm inside, but the frigid air looms.

"Look, let's talk about this," Lyle pleads. "Back in our car, we have gear and food. If you bring us to the car, we—"

"Enough lies," you say. "You tried to rob me, and if I let you go, you could do worse."

You raise the fire ax over Lyle's head and bring it down. The weapon hits his skull with a short thunk, like the sound of chopping wood. Jillian screams, though she blocks her mouth to stifle it. Lyle's head flops to the side, blood spraying up from the wound. You yank the weapon out, and Lyle slumps to the side. More blood spills from his open head and soaks into the carpet.

"I don't want to die," Jillian cries, but you hold the fire ax up and end her life in one quick gesture.