Murat stood there, staring at the wall. The voices hadn’t changed. Still low. Still uneven. Still right there. He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. “This doesn’t make any sense…” he muttered. He stepped back. Then forward again. Listening. Waiting. Hoping it would stop. It didn’t. If anything it felt closer. Like whoever was on the other side had moved nearer.
Murat’s jaw tightened. He glanced toward the house. Then back at the wall. No one else was going to figure this out for him. The voices came again. Longer this time. Almost clear enough to understand. That was it. Murat turned sharply, scanning the garage. His eyes landed on it. The sledgehammer. Leaning against the far wall. He stared at it for a moment.
Then walked over and picked it up. The weight settled into his hands. Solid. Certain. Murat turned back toward the wall. The voices didn’t stop. He stepped into position, tightening his grip.
He thought about it for a moment, a single moment and once he was ready, he swung.