by J. L. Hickey
Dip Shits. He realized the internet was flooded with entitled Karen’s and gun-totin’dual-wielding-Monster-Energy-drinkin’ Kyles. He understood these posts would be an array of both. Being a devote Christian himself, and coming from a father who was a respected pastor, Aaron learned early in his life to not use God’s name to condemn others. This Mary woman’s words were rooted in fear and hatred. She gave Christians a bad name.
Don’t get triggered.
He kept scrolling:
Jarrod Henrey: I knew the Simmons. Great people, they never hurt a fly! Sick! I have ot say, I am horrified, again, at what humans are capable of doing to each other and feel terribly for the family & friends Dennis and his wife. Suspicious of the news reporters’ motives reporting this case. Watch it turn into clickbait rather than a professional attempt to keep the public informed. We’ll see the killer plastered all over social media, and little of the victims. Do what’s right, don’t publish this sick-o’s name!
Does no one proofread before posting anymore? Then again, this one sounded more personal. If he did know the Simmons, and if he just found out about their friend’s violent deaths over a three-paragraph Michigan Live report, Aaron supposed he wouldn’t be caring about little red squiggly lines, either.
There are dozens of these types of posts—many condolences to the families involved, thoughtful yet meaningless in the long run. Plenty of “rest in peace” posts, even more, “what are the police hiding, conspiracists.
More scrolling. More wading through bullshit posts.
Then, jackpot:
Brian Bircher: I went to school with their son Brandon. We’re friends on here. I saw him post that he hadn’t heard from his parents in a few days and were asking friends and family to see if they could reach them. This was posted the day before yesterday. He said he was worried, and that he knew his dad had someone from out-of-town visiting them. He wasn’t sure who it was but was hoping to find someone who may know. He was hoping to get ahold of that person. My guess is that guy must have killed them, I mean, there is no word of a third body, and it sounded like he had been there for a few days. Let’s find this fucker!
This post alone set off a series of replies. It seemed legit. Aaron checked out Brian’s profile and found Brandon Simmons as a friend. That’s a good sign. Brandon’s page was private, so he could not see his posts, but it was a solid lead. He took some notes on a word file doc. and continued on his search.
He heard snoring next to him. Haylee had fallen asleep almost instantly after putting on a random kid’s cartoon. Rugrats, a classic feel-good, forget about your worries, cartoon. Maybe she’d turned it on to enlighten the dreadfulness of the room? Either way, it was good she’d dozed off. She needed rest. He was still upset that she didn’t listen to him about the pills. Two were way too many for her first dose. What was she thinking? Recklessness like that could find her dead.
At least she was getting them from him now. No more meeting up with randoms around town. She was reasonably naïve in that respect. She would pop pills she got from strangers, friends of shady friends. Some weren’t even friends; they were associates of shady associates. Who knew what she was taking? She sure as hell didn’t. Shit, he didn’t think she cared what she was swallowing, as long as it kept her mind at ease.
The escape.
He knew that’s what she wanted.
He knew about it too well. Everyone had their demons, some larger than others.
That’s when he decided to step in. When he first moved into the duplex, and he attempted to befriend her, Haylee slowly started to warm up to him. She had asked him to go with him to make a buy, and she didn’t feel safe alone. She also hated driving at night, so he obliged. They met up with some shady scrub looking guy in front of a 7-11 convenient store. They made a quick exchange. The guy was, as Aaron would say, “creepy AF.”
Haylee was an attractive woman, that rare natural beauty. Dark olive skin, straight jet-black hair. She didn’t even need to try, and she never did, not anymore. Aaron wouldn’t admit it, but it was her physical attraction that had him knocking on her door at first. Pretty girl like her, out in the early morning hours buying pills off dirtbags, something terrible was going to happen sooner or later. In Aaron’s mind, he was taking care of her. Either, he helped her, or she would go out and help herself. Lesser of two evils?
It was the cliché girl next door motif. Except that was just about the only cliché aspect of their twisted relationship.
Aaron understood it, though, more than most. He relied on pills too. He needed the Norco for the pain, and when it got bad, it was like a fire burning from the inside out. He got his prescription from his accident, a helluva nasty-ass car wreck. The one that ruined his life.
Yet, he only took the pills when the pain got bad, unbearable. He realized how toxic and addicting pain killers can be. He used them sparsely. Weed was natural, came from the Earth, weed was his choice nine times out of ten. Weed was his choice.
He went back to work.
Aaron swapped tabs on the Chrome browser. He favorite’d the Michigan Live news article, kept an eye on those comments as well. He was finding interesting theories already, copying and pasting comments he wanted to reference later. He found Dennis Simmons Facebook page after someone linked it. It was public and hadn’t been taken down or blocked yet.
This was a huge find—a look into the victim’s last few moments of his social idea.
Dennis, what secrets were you hiding?
Aaron smiled. Excitement rushed through his veins, like a natural high. He cracked his knuckles and began searching through Dennis’s Facebook wall; it was time to dig even deeper.
NINE
Haylee found herself in a darkened room, swallowed by blackness, utterly void of light or life. She heard a familiar noise, one she’d heard many times before. There was heavy breathing, grunting, it sounded sexual, beast-like. She found a doorframe behind her, deep into the abyss. It was old, ancient, the wood warped and moldy. The handle stained with rust, the wood door itself, blood-soaked, stained with the remnants of death.
She remembered this door—this very dream.
It was a dream, right? Please, let it be a dream…
It seemed real, but Haylee knew better; she’s dreamt this before. It came to her when the pills failed her. They started ever since the disaster in the woods. Sometimes despite the pills, it still managed to creep through in her dreams. It was always the same dark dream. It terrified her because she understood what secrets it hid. Behind the moldy bloodstained door, it was waiting. It was always waiting—that thing, the visitor that haunted her. Evidently, so was her sister, Camille. As always, her beautiful sister Camille. Her body, lifeless, barren, void of her love.
Haylee couldn’t stop; her body was drawn to the door. Pulled by an invisible force, it grew closer and closer. She tried to break free, but no matter how hard she tried to flee, her body failed her. She didn’t want to open it, but it was useless, no fighting what was about to happen. The darkness around her swallowed her, wrapped her in an icy blanket of death. Her body shook from the void, cold as an icebox.
Her breath escaped her body in bursts of steam into the abyss. Gasps of little clouds, the panic evaporating in front of her. Her chest heaved and hoed, feeling tighter with every contraction.
Please, no. Not again. Not my sister. Not that…thing.
Her voice was sullen in the void. No one to hear her scream, not even herself. She was muted, deaf. Did sound even exist in this place, could it? She could feel her lips moving, her tongue forming words, but she heard nothing. Only the frantic voice in her head, screaming to run, to flee.
Haylee’s hand reached out towards the rusted handle. Her fingertips turned blue from t
he cold, completely numb. Her fingers wrapped around the frozen door handle. Clumps of white snow fell from the abyss. They fluttered around her, almost peacefully blanketing her from what was sure to be waiting on the other side. Her hand turned, the knob clicked, letting loose the hinge.
Not again. She choked, her words empty, meaningless in this land of grief and sorrow.
The door crept open. Within the door fell a familiar sight. The bedroom she shared with her fiancé Robbie. The same one where they were supposed to start a family in. It was the freshly decorated master bedroom that sat inside their dream home. There, on the hardwood floor, next to Haylee’s pink fuzzy slippers (a Valentines’ Day present from Robbie a year prior) laid the lifeless body of her sister, Camille, at the foot of their king size bed.
The scene was too familiar. Haylee sobbed. Losing control, warm tears stained her cheeks, snot poured from her nose, its warmth sticking to her lips. She begged and pleaded—worthless words lost in the nothingness that surrounded her.
Camille’s corpse was pale white, a pool of thick crimson blood pooled beneath her. Her once youthful, lively body, mangled, and distorted. She laid sprawled out on her back; legs spread apart. Her silky blonde hair matted with the pool of blood, her head tilted back as if she was waiting for Haylee to enter. Except, her eyes had been removed, plucked from their sockets. Her eyelids hung loose, like wrinkled flesh-colored shades over a window.
Haylee fell to her knees, her stomach retched. She heaved, vomiting a mass of bloody maggots. They spewed from her mouth, coming out in large chunks. Their warm bodies alive, wiggling up through her throat, passing through her mouth. They squirmed, crawled about effortlessly in front of her as they collected between her legs.
Haylee gasped, barely able to breathe. There were stragglers, little demonic maggots trying to find refuge within her mouth. She spat them out one at a time, using her fingers to pull out the last remaining few. She screamed, screamed like bloody hell at the horrors before her. The larvae frantically searched for an escape. But there was none to be found. They began to shrivel up, dying in their agony beneath her. Their bodies decayed rapidly into little pools of mucus.
In-between her sister’s legs, a ghastly creature kneeled, waiting for her attention. Whatever this thing was, Haylee understood it wasn’t born of this earth. It was not human, not animal; it was pure revulsion. Its body was skinny, lanky, with saggy breasts dangling from its chest. It’s top half feminine. Between its leg, the creature was male with an erect slim penis. It hung down between its legs, looking more animalistic than human.
A horrific sight, the creature with its head cocked awkwardly to the side. Patiently waiting to see if Haylee would advance forward. It thrust its putrid hips into Camille, penetrating her sister’s corpse. Camille’s mouth puckered open; a vacant moan echoed from her lips. A faint smile spread across her lifeless face. Yet, Haylee understood she was dead. There was no life there; this was indeed not her sister. The creature, grunting, snarling, having its way with her sister corpse. It’s large red glowing eyes never broke Haylee’s gaze. This humanoid thing, with its putrid rotting flesh dangling off its skinny frame, defiled her sister, mocking Haylee, taunting her with its grotesque guttural moans.
The smell of the creature overpowered Haylee. The odor made her dizzy. It stung her eyes, burned her nose. This thing, hunched over her Camille’s body reeked of death and depravity. Long scrawny legs, even longer slimmer arms, with hoarse black hair protruding in patches all across its body. Fingers, long and slender, planted firmly on each side of Camille, supporting its weight as it continued. Its loose tits swayed from the violent thrusting motion.
Worst of all was its head, staring at her with the round glowing eyes, alien-like, inhuman. It almost put her into a trance, like it was penetrating her soul. Its head was large, disproportionate from the rest of its body, oblong. Haylee tried to focus through its mind-numbing gaze. She couldn’t make out much. They were like two floodlights, glowing bright enough that it impaired her vision, blurring its facial features.
Haylee lost it.
“get out of my head!” She let out another nightmarish scream.
Then the blackness engulfed her once again. Followed by nothingness.
TEN
“Haylee!” Aaron yelled. “Wake up, Jesus fuck!”
Haylee shot awake. Her muscles burned, her back was throbbing in pain. A sudden wave of relief swept over her. Her body relaxed, went loose, limp. Did she have a seizure while she slept?
She went to speak, but her mouth hurt to open. She clenched her jaw so hard. She thought she might have cracked a molar.
Her head was in Aaron’s lap. He held her up, pulling her hair back with his right hand. He protected it from the vomit. Her chest soaked from it, the puke, its acidic, sweet smell made her gag once again. Her guts heaved, expulsing more vomit, ferociously spilling from her insides while she gasped for air. Her chest burned, her head pounded.
“Get it all out,” Aaron held her hair tight. “You had a nightmare, or something crazy. I think you had a seizure.”
The room was spinning. Haylee’s midsection was damp, her pants and underwear both soaked. She had pissed herself. She sat up from Aaron’s lap entirely now. She tried to collect herself, gather her bearings. She looked down at her zip-up hoodie, chunks of the breakfast sandwich, and coffee-soaked atop her breasts.
“You got sick in your sleep, I think you puked up those pills, and your breakfast.”
Haylee didn’t say a thing. Her body was still shaking, her mind still trying to catch up to reality. Her head hurt, her body ached, the taste of vomit stuck at the back of her throat. The vision of her sister burned in her brain. That dream, the one that always came back. She thought she bested it. It had been weeks since she had it last. But no, somehow, it had snuck back into her life.
“You could have choked,” Aaron got up from the couch, rubbing her back, “Let me get you a towel to clean up.”
“No, leave, please, leave,” Haylee choked out the words, almost screaming them. She was embarrassed, mortified over what happened in front of him. She smelled off piss and vile. She couldn’t handle being seen like this.
“Haylee,” Aaron protested, worry in his eyes. “Look, it’s okay, let me run you a shower, get you cleaned up. I don’t think you should be alone, do you?”
Haylee cried, sobbed, like a child who had lost her parents at a shopping mall. He’d never look at her the same way again. How could he? A dumb, fucked up girl, puked and pissed herself from a bad dream. Aaron would probably never knock on her door again. Haylee was afraid to be alone. That thing, that monster, it came back. Would it creep its way out of her dreams and into her home? She couldn’t be left alone; she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“You were out for hours,” Aaron added. “I thought you needed to sleep off the pills from last night.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she wiped the streaming tears from her cheeks.
“C’mon, it’s okay. It’s been a helluva morning,” he helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you in the shower. I will help you get there. If you need anything, I will be out here with Trayer, cleaning up the couch for you. That’s a shit ton of puke girl.”
Haylee didn’t have words. She muttered, “Okay, okay…” and let him lead the way. “—I,”
“—You don’t have to thank me,” Aaron smiled. “You need a friend in times like these. I got you, girl. It’s all good in the hood.”
. . .
The shower was scorching hot, burned her skin red. It felt amazing on her vomit-soaked body. Wash away the disgrace, she thought. Wash away the pain, let the steaming hot water take over. She scrubbed multiple times with different scented soaps. Hard, she wanted to rub away a few layers of
skin, she’d peel it off if she could. No amount of soap in the world could cleanse her from that god-awful dream.
She thought of Aaron.
She let the water stream down her face, calming her. What a mess he moved next door to. A psycho who is ready to suffer a mental breakdown at any given moment. She opened her mouth, let the water fill up. She swished the hot water around her mouth, spit it out, down her chin and breasts. She sat in the tub, hung her head low, and let the heat, the steam, the pressure of the shower eases her.
Haylee had lost track of time. How long had she been in the shower? A half-hour? Maybe forty-five minutes? Longer? The refreshing steamy hot water was heavenly. She never wanted to leave.
She turned the shower knob off; the water ceased to a small drip. Haylee grabbed a towel, dried herself. She found her way into her bedroom, decided to dress like a human. She put on a pullover hoodie and a pair of dark distressed denim. The first time she wore jeans in a few weeks. She usually lounged around in leggings and baggy sweaters. She even brushed her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail before making her way back into the living room where Aaron had Trayer sprawled out over his lap. It felt good to feel semi human.
“Feeling better?”
“A little,” she answered. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“That had to be one fucked up dream.”
“It’s a repetitive dream, it’s...more a nightmare. I can’t explain how real it feels. As you saw, it physically makes me sick. It’s never been that bad, though.”
“Want to talk about it?” Aaron scratched Trayer’s large stomach. The dog moaned lazily. “Maybe it will help?”
“Not really,” she replied bluntly. “The dream is disturbing, it has to do with my sister, and what my shrink Dr. Feldman claims is a phycological manifestation from that night, that...you know...that everything happened.”