Clara was ready to go to sleep. Already in bed, with the light off, she checked her cell phone like every night, trying to disconnect from the busy day at work. That's when that ping-pong rang. A WhatsApp notification. It was a voice message from Laura, her inseparable friend. The time caught her attention: 11:35 PM. Laura didn't usually text her this late. Clara played the audio. "Clara... help me," a trembling voice whispered, barely distinguishable. "Río Street... number 17... don't come alone." A loud bang, as if something had fallen, interrupted the message. Then, quick, shuffling footsteps. And then... silence. Clara's heart began to pound, as if hammering from within. She sat up abruptly in bed, her cell phone screen illuminating her face. She listened to the message again. There was no doubt: it was Laura. And it didn't sound like a joke. They had been friends since childhood. They knew each other so well that she could tell, from Laura's tone, that Laura was in danger. She didn't hesitate. She dressed quickly. She didn't even turn on the bedroom light. She grabbed the car keys and hurried out of the house, leaving the door ajar. The road to River Street was dark. A thick fog was beginning to descend over the city; it was almost midnight. Clara felt a persistent tickle on the back of her neck, as if someone was watching her from the shadows. The street was empty. Silent. Unreal, so to speak...! Clara checked the GPS on her cell phone: You've reached your destination!!!....... She activated the app, slowed down, parked her car on the other side of the street, turned off the engine, and got out. A chilly wind hit her full on, making her shudder and shrug her shoulders. The silence was so profound that her own footsteps could be heard throughout the block. The house seemed abandoned. Dark, with no signs of life. A rusty fence surrounded the property, and the front yard was covered in dry leaves, showing that no one had been there for a while. Everything seemed frozen in time. She knocked on the front door. Once, twice, three times. Nothing. "Laura?" Clara shouted. But no one answered. She stepped back again, to see if it was really number 17, and yes, it was definitely that house. She circled the house and found a broken, half-torn fence. She hesitated for a second… and jumped over it. In the backyard, a window was half-open, as if someone had come or gone through there at some point. The inside had that smell of dust, damp wood, of an abandoned house. She turned on her cell phone's flashlight, and in the center of the living room, on a table, was something glowing dimly: a phone. Turned on. Recording in video mode. Clara took it with trembling hands. The screen showed a live feed, like from a security camera or something. She saw herself, standing, holding the phone. Her heart skipped a beat. What is this shit…? She thought. But then… something moved behind her in the video. A tall, thin figure. Shrouded in shadow. Walking slowly behind her. And then she heard it… Laura's voice. "I told you… not to come alone."

Since the topic was about trust, I think Clara trusted Laura too much to go to that place alone, at night, and also to go into the house trusting herself too much.