[ CW ] In five sentences , tell a horror story .

I help the old man out to his Lincoln with a cart full of bagged groceries, making small talk about some upcoming baseball game I probably wo n't watch. `` I sure appreciate this,'' he says, voice a little too eager. I open the trunk as he reaches into his wallet for a tip, in spite of my polite objections, and that's when I see the blood. I turn around just in time to look down the barrel of his pistol, aimed at me, then gesturing to the trunk. I flash back to three months ago, when they told me they'd keep me safe if I testified.
