by J. L. Hickey
A fresh new start. A family of her own.
Maybe she could finally get her life back on track.
After the proposal, Haylee envisioned happiness for the first time. She was due for a happy ending, after how wrong her childhood went. She dreamt of a tidy little home, a few babies, a cute dog. Something big, like a Saint Bernard, or a Mastiff to keep her safe. She didn’t care for her Ohio job anyway; she’d been working as a waitress at an Applebee’s. It was demeaning, half flirting with men twice her age for decent tips. She’d had a fallen out with her father years back, they spoke weekly, but there was resentment on both parties. Yet, there was still a strong family bond, unconditional love. They had gone through a lot as a family. As much damage they endured, it also strengthened as well.
So, here it is now, a few months after the move into their starter home, and Haylee was still unemployed. At least her sister Camille had better luck landing a middle management job at the nearest shopping mall. Haylee, not willing to settle with retail or the food industry, decided to keep applying for positions she lacked qualifications for.
She had her fiancé’s support.
“No worries,” Robbie said, reassuring her at the dinner table one beautiful summer evening. They had ordered a large pizza, double pepperoni, and cheese. The three of them, Haylee, Robbie, and Camille sitting together, eating. Robbie drank his Sam Adams Cherry Wheat. His go-to beer after a long hard day at work. Haylee limited herself to one glass of red wine, allowing her sister to partake in the rest. Haylee had learned (over the years of abusing alcohol) a bit of self-control. She was proud of that.
“I’m making enough for you to take your time—find something you love. With Camille starting her job soon, she can help with the bills. We’re fine. Plus, once we get married next spring, we’ll need you at home, stupid to start a career knowing we’re planning our first child.”
And they were going to be okay. They were better off in Michigan, too many dark secrets in Ohio, painful and hurtful secrets.
It had been four months since they moved to Michigan. They were settled into their new cozy home in the middle of a country road. Their house had a long winding dirt driveway that twisted around a small clump of a forest. Their nearest neighbors were almost a mile down the road. A beautiful quiet area out in the woods. Country livin’.
The home butted right up against the massive Michigan State Forest. A beautiful country, far away from the noisy city. Robbie had always wanted to move back to Michigan, where he grew up. He loved the outdoors, hunting fishing, and when they found the small house numbered 1228 on Orr Road, it was the perfect starter house for a family.
Camille moved in with them after a messy split with her physically and emotionally abusive husband. She welcomed her sister. Hoped she’d grow closer to her, for once she was in the position to help her little sister out, and not vice versa.
Yet, all wasn’t perfect in the new home. Haylee began to notice changes in Robbie. They were subtle at first, snapping at her here and there. He’d make snide remarks. Hurtful one too, harsh and ugly words spewed from his usual charming self. Soon, he became aggressive, even violent towards her and her sister. They’d been together for years. He’d never acted that way before.
Haylee found herself slipping into the darker parts of her life even before the move. Where her depression and anxiety played, she’d come so far in silencing those inner demons to take control of her life. Now, with Robbie acting out, she felt her grip loosening.
The darkness would creep back out.
There was a strain in the relationship. They had ups and downs, and their downs were fairly dark. But no relationship was perfect, right? She needed a fresh perspective. She was losing her grip on reality in the home, with all the fighting. She decided a trip to see her father would do their relationship some good.
It was hard being in a new place; none of her friends from back home were around. She was stuck, no job. Not to mention her last breakdown, the one in the woods. The fallout left her in the psychiatric ward for a week under a suicide watch.
Found in the woods, alone, bloodied.
She was a freak.
Just the thought of that night made her cringe.
How could she have done that? How stupid was she?
Two wrongs...her father would always say.
Enough, she told herself. Focus on the roads.
The weather was terrible. Dreadful actually.
She drove cautiously down a two-lane highway. A substantial downpour of snow crashed into her window. The storm hit about ten minutes ago; it wasn’t looking like it was slowing down. The road in front of her was already growing slick.
“Shit,” Haylee cursed. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. She had heard there was a chance for snow to hit during her trip. But it looked like she was going to beat it. Unfortunately for her, she was wrong. About forty-five minutes into the drive, the severe warnings for the area hit the radio stations.
Severe winter warning.
She was nervous enough driving to Ohio by herself, let alone during a storm like this one.
Her cellphone rang, buzzing in the dash beside her. She looked at the caller ID. It was her dad. She picked it up, answered the phone. She put it on speaker, placed it on her lap. Leaving both hands on the steering wheel.
“Hi dad,” she said, her words fluent with nerves.
“Hay,” he said, “Hard to hear you, am I on speaker?”
“Yeah,” she spoke louder. “Weathers bad, want to focus on the road.”
“That’s why I was calling, I was checking out the weather app for your ride here,” He sounded worried. “You picked a terrible weekend for a visit,” He said.
“I know,” she sighed, “The radio station said we’re in a warning, I’m like right in the middle of it.”
“Maybe we should reschedule? How far are you?”
“Not terribly far, about an hour in…” She frowned.
“Maybe turn back, your lot closer to home than here. Drive safe, and slowly, we always have tomorrow or next week. Maybe we can do it so you and Camille can come together.”
“I really need to get away…” Haylee’s lip quivered. She pulled over to the side of the lone highway. She flipped on her hazards. “It’s getting bad, dad. Really bad, at home.”
“I know,” His voice went into Detective Dad mode. “Did Robbie do something stupid?”
“No.” She lied, sort of.... “But he’s been so angry lately. So... mean. Ever since, you know, I had that relapse last month. It’s been spiraling out of control.”
“—He hit you, didn’t he?” her dad’s voice trembled, the anger dark, engulfing.
“No, he’s not Dave, dad, he wouldn’t do that!” Haylee found herself protecting her fiancé, and there was truth to the accusation. Little white lies, she was always good at those.
Dave was Camille’s soon to be ex-husband, a drunk cop, who slapped Camille so bad he knocked her sisters filling out of her mouth. When their dad found out, he broke down their front door, grabbed his daughter from the home. He came back after getting Camille into his car, didn’t say a word to the drunk Dave. Instead, his body slammed through a wall. He pulled his firearm on him. From what Haylee gathered from the little information Camille was willing to share, their father told Dave he would spray his brains all over the floor if he ever spoke to his daughter again.
Macho Dave called his bluff. Their dad discharged his weapon a few inches above his head. They hadn’t heard from Dave since. Their father, a well-decorated Police detective, his career was over as fast as he’d pulled that trigger.
“Don’t project, you do that wh
en you’re lying,” He was a detective after all. He knew his daughter’s tells. He could read them both like a book.
“Dad, Robbie is not that guy,” Haylee did her best to mask the white lie.
Last week, when Camille was out of the house. Haylee had gotten upset that Robbie had been late coming home from work, something that was becoming a daily occurrence. He would come and go as he pleased. She began to think he was cheating on her.
What was the saying? Once a cheat?
She decided to confront him, tears in her eyes. He didn’t reply, didn’t question her accusation. Instead, his face went blank. He filled with rage. She could see the blood rushing into his cheeks; red blotches covered his face. The vein in his temple protruding throbbing Robbie clenched his fist, punched the wall as hard as he could. He hit squarely onto a mounted picture frame and shattered their engagement photo. The glass broke, the shards cut up his fist, blood dripping over his knuckles.
Haylee screamed at first. Stunned, she hadn’t known what to do. She went to console him, to apologize. She reached out to him. She stood there, holding his bloody hand. That’s when he pushed her away. Hard. She fell onto the floor, hit her head on the coffee table. His face-she remembered the fear in his face-like for a moment, just a small fragment of time, she thought she saw the old Robbie’s eyes. Robbie, before the other woman. Robbie, before the violent streak. Robbie, before the new job in Michigan. Her fingers ran over the back of her head, a small smear of blood covered her hand.
“I’m…I’m sorry…” he muttered.
“—If he touches you, you tell me,” her father said, snapping her back to reality. “You or your sister. I will do to him the same thing I did to that poor excuse for a man your sister married.”
“You know he wouldn’t,” she lied again. “You know him, dad. He’s a good guy; he wouldn’t…”
“I do, but what you’ve been telling me lately, he isn’t the man I knew back here in Ohio,” he said bluntly. “Also, you know what I did for a living? I saw good people do bad things every day. It’s why I taught you and your sister, how to protect yourselves. I never knew Dave was a goddamned drunk either; he knocked your sister silly. Lost my career over a loser drunk, but you two, you’re all I got. I will always protect my girls. It was your mothers dying wish. We don’t always get along, and I know that. I wasn’t, hell...I’m not a great dad. I try, I promise I do. But I WILL protect you both.”
“I know, dad.” Haylee bit her smile. She didn’t have much of a response.
She wasn’t sure which relationship was more damaged, her and her father’s, or her future husband.
“I think he’s having an affair,” she blurted out. “I think, maybe, he’s not in love with me anymore? He doesn’t want to admit it. Like he’s stuck with me?” she began to weep. “We relocated, moved into this home together. Maybe he feels like now he can’t go back? Does he feel stuck with me? Then, I had that incident. I’m so embarrassed over it. I think I think he thinks I’m so sort of freak. Like, who does that dad? Now he always angry.”
“Haylee,” her dad interjected, back to using his comforting dad’s voice. “I think you need to have an honest conversation with him. Don’t position him, don’t insinuate he’s cheating, but ask him, directly, openly. Be an adult for once.”
“Yeah,” she replied. She hadn’t noticed the accumulation of snow that piled up on her windshield. It was coming down even harder now; visibility was worsening.
“Are you drinking again?” Her dad asked, he was sure to speak in a nonjudgmental tone, but of course, he was.
Haylee ignored it.
“Dad, I think I’m going to turn back around. We will reschedule, okay?”
“Please tell me you’re still sober,” Her dad pushed. “No more pills, right? No alcohol?”
“I’m trying my best. I promise,” Haylee answered. This time it wasn’t a white lie; it was blatant.
“I’m here for you, Hay, I love you,” he added. “You guys can always come back home, always have your rooms waiting.”
“Thanks, Dad,” She turned off the phone. Flipped her wipers back on, clearing off the windshield. The road was still deserted, no cars on either side. She turned around. She’d drive slow and safe. She’d get back late, near midnight, but it would be safer. She would be in bed by one Am at the latest. Maybe talk with Robbie tomorrow. Over dinner, she thought. She’d make his favorite, shrimp scampi, red wine, merlot maybe. This was the plan, at least.
How was she to know her life was about to go to shit?
FIVE
“This is officer Clent Moore requesting back up at 1126 Orr road. We have a suspect that fled into the forest, repeat we need back up,” Clent bellowed into his shoulder radio. He had followed the suspect about two yards into the thick forest before he’d heard the blood-curdling scream of his partner from within the garage.
“White male, about five-eight, hundred-eighty pounds. Wearing grey sweats and a blue hoody, traveling northbound on feet, suspect fled into the state forest.” He’d assumed the noise came from who claimed his name was Bob Williams.
“Fucking Aye,” Clent cursed. Maybe it wasn’t Bob he was chasing after, could be a damn raccoon for all he knew. After all, he never saw the man flee into the forest. He backtracked towards the scream, darting through the shrubs and bushes, making his way back to the small opening. The backdoor was still secure. Clent ran as fast as his legs would take him. His right foot slipped beneath him; the snow was coming down heavy, slick. He lost his bearings, tumbled to the ground, hard.
His head hit hard on the frozen earth. It made a sickening thud in his skull. He saw bright white lights flash in front of his eyes like little fireworks were exploding in his brain. He winced in pain as he got back to his feet, holding his head. He was dazed, he gripped the side of the garage to balance himself. He shook it off, rounded the corner.
“Vanessa?” he yelled. No answer. He grabbed the back of his head; a giant goose egg had formed. Thankfully, there was no blood.
That fuckin’ hurt.
The large door he failed at breaking in, now sat open, held barley on by its hinges. He could see the wet footprints of his partner leading into the garage. He raised his firearm, crossing with his flashlight in his other hand, lighting the way. The garage was spacious; it opened up directly into a workshop. Sure enough, there in the shop was the Camaro Bob had referenced earlier.
Then the smell hit him. His stomach retched immediately; the aroma hit him like a swift punch to the gut. It almost toppled him over. It was a familiar scent, something he had smelled many times over his career. No matter how many times that foul stench hit his nose, he was never ready for it. He once tried to explain it to a buddy of his, but he couldn’t find words. It was simply dreadful, unholy. It stained your clothes, the sick bitter smell of decomposing flesh. Like a large waste bag of roadkill sitting out in the sun, rubbed in fecal matter, roasting.
“Vanessa?” Clent yelled again. He pushed aside the smell.
“Clent?” her voice came from the back of the shop. He turned quickly; saw the opening of a door towards the north end of the garage. It looked like a large toolbox on wheels had been resting in front of the door, possibly hiding it. It had been pushed off to the side, no doubt from Bob trying to make his escape out the rear exit, towards the forest. There, near the wall (next to the toolbox), Clent saw a small pool of blood, dried, on the floor.
“Clent, back here,” Vanessa’s voice wavered. She sounded foreign to him, frightened, like a lost child in a sea of people.
“Vanessa?” Clent cleared the door. A large room opened up, towards his right stood Vanessa, wiping her mouth, kneeled over, her hands resting on her knees, spitting onto the floor.
“Watch your step; I puked,” she said.
“Jesus,” Clent swung his Maglite around the room.
“There’s a switch,” Vanessa reached to her side, behind where Clent was standing. She flipped it.
Clent’s flashlight had already found one of the bodies. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed to life. Everything came into his vision. His eyes wide with horror, his mouth ajar, hands coming up fast to cover his face from the putrid smell.
“It’s bad,” Vanessa’s legs shook. She sensed her stomach revolting, almost losing its contents again. “I’m…” her voice trembled. “I’m sorry, I froze.”
Two bodies hung naked from the ceiling. A cruel makeshift pulley system (Clent could only guess, was some sort of sexual bondage device) held up the male victim about two feet from the floor. The female was hung from a blue bungee cord wrapped around her ankles. Both bodies had their hands tied behind their back. The male victim had been beheaded, no signs of the head anywhere from what Clent could see. His testicles and penis had been removed, and large bite wounds could be seen on his abdomen and thighs, to the point chunks of his flesh were missing.
Cannibalism.
The woman’s body was also mutilated. Her breasts had been badly bitten, chunks of her flesh was gone as well. Her face was mutilated beyond recognition, half missing, it too, looked as it was chewed right down to the bone.
The room was about half the size of the shop where they entered. It was well lit from the hanging fluorescent tubes. Clent wagered, it must have been some sort of sex dungeon. The far wall was decorated with a myriad of sex toys, whips, chains, chokers, masks, varying size sexual toys, some boarding more on torture looking devices. All sat out on display, clean, neatly.
The opposite side held two different cameras’, both mounted on tripods, and an elaborate lighting system like you’d see on a movie set. They all pointed at the center of the room where the bodies were hung.