The gravel crunched as dusty tires rolled down the quiet neighborhood of Echo Ridge Estates in Albuquerque, New Mexico. As Toby White crept toward his new home, his brows furrowed. Before him stood a small, two-story house with cheap-looking panels of chipping white paint and cloudy windows covered in cobwebs. The exclusive job offer from one of the world’s largest law firms had been enough to get him to move across the country and impulsively purchase a new place. To his disappointment, his new home was just as bad as the photos. Toby reluctantly opened his trunk and began unloading the heavy boxes of his belongings. Carrying his things inside and exploring each room made him realize that the interior was just as bad as the exterior. Layers of dust covered the kitchen counters and collected beneath the couch. A rat scurried away at the flick of the bathroom light switch. “It’s just until I get on my feet. Once this new position takes off, I’ll be lying out on the back patio of my mansion,” Toby told himself. He closed his eyes, envisioning a bright blue pool surrounded by expensive statues.
As the hours passed and the light dimmed outside, Toby grew tired. He turned on the faucet to wet his toothbrush, eliciting a chorus of squeaks from the walls. “I already hate this place,” he mumbled, shutting off the sink. He made his way to the mattress and closed his eyes, letting the silence of the night consume him. However, something wasn’t right. A faint beeping sound filled his ears. Toby looked around the room, straining to see through the darkness. He rummaged through every dresser drawer and bathroom cabinet but found nothing, eventually giving up. Grunting in frustration, he lay back in bed and pulled a pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out the noise until morning. But it didn’t stop. He tossed and turned, glancing at the clock as the hours dragged on until the sound drove him mad. He stormed through the house, tearing it apart in desperation. Every door flew open, every inch of furniture was examined. Delirious and sleep-deprived, Toby stumbled into the garage. The beeping echoed louder than ever. He crept across the room, pressing his ear to the wall where the sound made it vibrate. Snatching a hammer from a nearby toolbox, he began pounding at the wall. Coughing as dust and debris filled the air, Toby waited until the cloud settled. On the floor lay a shiny object. He picked up the watch that had tormented him for hours and examined it. The screen glowed red, displaying a date—tomorrow’s date. Toby squinted to read the tiny letters beneath it. His eyes widened in horror as the message became clear. “Time’s up.”
By Lauren Smith