The perfect house is not so perfect

It was the picture-perfect house. A small pink house sat at a corner surrounded by a white picket fence. In front of two perfect front windows sat rose bushes. An old lady walked though a perfect white door and was greeted by two perfect cats. Everything was perfect. Too perfect. At least that's what they thought. Under it all is something truly dark and horrifying was happening. Some call it a dungeon, but for this lady it was more of a hobby. At the ripe age of sixty-five Rose Collins began this place. Lured in people with this perfect place. Everyone wanted it and everyone came. Not everyone left. This town had over fifty missing person cases in the last five years. Lets see why.

We got invited, I tell my boyfriend, Zeke. We both moved here just a couple of weeks ago. This was the house he fell in love with and he cannot wait to see the inside. Rose, the owner of the home, has invited us to dinner.

The event is tonight and we both wanted to dress casual but formal. At six we left the house and drove off. Inside was as picture perfect as the outside. Just imagine a picture-perfect house. Everything was neatly place and not a single crumb. Behind an old wooden door was a kitchen stacked with treats. We were handed Rose's specialty cookie and we ate it. It felt like we were parting and had too much to drink. Zeke fell first and then I went.

"Where the hell are we?" I faintly hear Zeke yell. I am unable to get up. Something is  wrong with my leg and my head is pounding.

Zeke: Taylor, where are you?

Taylor: Over here.

Zeke runs over to me and we find a wooden box with instructions.

So you made it. Glad. Your friend here I have injured because he would not stop fighting. Get out of here and you can keep your lives if not they are mine. Good luck, none have made it so far.

I try and stand but it is useless. My leg is broken, no chance of  me walking on it.

Taylor: Go ahead. You do not need me. Save your life. 

Zeke: No, I do need you and I am not leaving without you.

He ended up carrying me. During the first section, we found bodies. Many bodies. And we took pictures of all of them. At the end of this first section, there was something. A task to do. We had to crawl under barbed wire. Simple. Zeke went first and made it without a scratch. I went next and with one leg it was difficult. My head was spinning and by the end I had so many cuts. Zeke found our next box.

Wow. Your doing good. Not for long.

As we continued to walk, we found more dead bodies. At the next stop, we had to jump over a five foot gap. I went first this time and did not make it far enough. I was now hanging on for my life. Zeke quickly jumped to the opposite side and pulled me up. My leg is even more broken now. And there was box this time, so we continued to walk. Yet again, more dead bodies. The next one involved blood. Only a certain amount could open the door. I found a knife and slit my palm. The door opened. One issue though, I was still bleeding. Zeke took off his button up and wrapped it around my palm. We continued to walk and find dead bodies. In front of us was a box.

No one has made it this far. This is your last task.

We opened the door and fire engulfed us. Zeke ran, with me in his arms, as fast as possible. At the end we found a door that was attached to a park shed. Zeke looked perfect. Not a scratch on him. Only my blood was on him. I now have a severely broken leg, a badly bleeding palm, an inured shoulder from that five foot jump, and burns from the fire. He carried me out of the shed and to the nearby police department. Everyone inside was extremely worried that Zeke did this to me. They tried to arrest him and I only hugged him tighter. I said he is not going anywhere without me. They would have to arrest me too. Sorry not sorry. I got my medical attention and trust me it was a lot. This town is no longer our home. We are moving. We showed them the photos. Fifty-one in total. Fifty of them were the missing person reports. And the the fifty-first was of a fourteen year old Rose Collins. Who is that old lady then?