Cockblock by C.V. Hunt is one of my favorite books. It’s a madcap adventurous tale about a very strange apocalypse with a brutally perfect ending and I highly recommend it. Murder House, the author’s latest book, is filled with rage and despair, and frustration but it didn’t quite come together for me in the end and some of that frustration ended up being mine.

Laura and her boyfriend of forever move into a murder house so he can write a true-crime novel. The rent is free for a few months and they appear to have nothing much else going on, so why not, right?

But it’s a bad idea (oh, really now?!) A truly terrible idea, actually. But not for the reasons most might think. Brent and Laura have some major relationship issues, Laura can’t afford her mental health medication and is struggling and they absolutely should not live together in any house never mind one where the floors still seem to be stained in blood.

What follows is a slow unraveling of reality. It’s painful to witness. I screamed at the book for both of these people to get the hell away from each other. Did they listen? OF COURSE NOT! They never do.

Some of the imagery here is bone-chilling, the descriptions of the decaying murder house were nightmare-inducing and beautifully written. I needed to know exactly what the heck was going on and this kept me going even when I was a bit exhausted by Brent and Laura’s hate-filled relationship dynamic and their toxic behavior.

There were some threads here that didn’t completely come together for me in the end but there were enough well-written unpredictable scenes filled with despair and desperation and wtf-ery to keep my attention until the final page.