by J. L. Hickey
He made his way deep into the dark of the woods. The special place that was home to mother. He’d never been there, but he could sense exactly where it was. His mother’s presence was his guiding light, a beacon for him to follow. Her stomach growling, her excitement spreading through his body, they shared a connection, needs, wants, desires.
The trip was long. The cold, bitter winter did nothing to stop him from his destination. His fingers burned, his toes went numb, yet physical pain was no longer a distraction. Soon, he’d be in her presence, her warmth. He walked for hours, instincts driving him. He finally came to a small clearing of woods, and old hunting lodge sat there. Desolate, neglected, lost to nature, it barley stood upright. It had become its home. Lost and forgotten, half the lodge’s ceiling had caved in from a previous storm decades ago. It was big enough for her to hide, to stay hidden from the world to prey on whatever flesh she could dig her jagged teeth into.
Gary tossed the head of Dennis a few feet from what was once the front door of the small wooden lodge. From within the confines of the building, two dark red eyes peered through the blackness. It emerged, the deathly looking creature. The bright moon lit the clearing, casting just enough light to allow Gary to see it once again, full-bodied, glorious. It came out on all fours, its long lanky arms moving almost ape-like. Its large head, prolonged snout, the six-point antlers pierced into the night sky. Its half-decayed head lowered and sniffed the head of Dennis.
“For you,” Gary muttered, in awe he watched.
The creature long slender fingers pulled the head closer, using them as an ice cream scoop, the creature plopped out both eyes with ease. It devoured them wildly, slurping them down, licking its decayed lips with its putrid tongue. Next, it reached into Dennis’s mouth and yanked out the tongue. It too gorged itself on the meat. The creature almost put itself into a frenzy as it feasted. Finally, it held the head high and cracked it open on a nearby rock. The skull-splitting open. The creature, lifting it to its mouth, eating the brain, gulping it down.
Gary could sense the creature’s fullness. He could taste the sweetness of the meal, his own mouth salivating at the site. He’d done well, made it happy. The creature had its fill. Gary would be rewarded. The thing, it’s belly full, retreated into the lodge. Gary followed. The moonlight crept into the lodging. The creature sat in the corner; its legs spread open. Gary walked into its embrace, curled up on its lap. Its rancid, decayed skin gave off a wretched odor that Gary found calmness in. His stomach was rumbling now, despite his own meal of human flesh. A thirst surged through Gary’s body. The creature tilted his head up, pushing its long saggy teat towards his mouth. Gary took it greedily, suckling at the things breast. He was in heaven; It had finally accepted him. He fell asleep in its warm embrace.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Haylee sat next to Aaron in the painfully dull waiting room. Despite the myriad of people currently inhabiting the large area, it seemed lifeless. Dollar store art hung framed on the stark white walls; magazines spread on tables. People trying desperately not to look uncomfortable. Since the murders, Haylee has struggled in large spaces, especially open areas filled with strangers. Add onto that her anxiety with hospitals in general, and she was ripe for a panic attack. Her nerves were shot; her right eye twitched from the stress. She was surrounded by the sick, young, old, a gathering of diseased and/or injured people. Strangers, each one, and all Haylee could think of was their staring eyes. Watching her, out of their peripherals, did they all recognize her? From the news or the dozens of newspaper articles? Were they whispering about her?
Look, mom, is that the girl from the murder house?
The crazy woman who can’t leave her home, poor old Haylee, she was better off dying in that home with her sister. What a mess of a person.
She could practically read their judging minds. Her PTSD was spinning out of control. The constant noise of people chatting, the phlegmy coughs, wet and sickly. Kids ran about playfully, parents yelling at them to behave. A noisy older man in the corner who looked to have trouble breathing, hacking up a lung every five minutes into a damp handkerchief he kept shoveling back into his breast pocket. She had broken into a nervous sweat, but she had to be there because even if she detested Aaron at the moment, deep down, she needed him. She needed a friend, an anchor to the real world.
“I know this must be hell for you,” Aaron finally muttered. “Thank you for staying with me. I didn’t want to worry my parents. The less they know, the better, I will deal with them when it hits the news.”
“Yeah,” Haylee nodded. “Some of us are there for others when they need them, even when it gets uncomfortable. We don’t just bail.”
Aaron winced from the words. They seemed to hit him physically, like a blow to the gut. It cut him deep because Haylee was right. How many times could he mess up? Here, she was, despite everything, still by his side. He was aware of her issues with large areas, the agoraphobia, the fear of hospitals as well. He knew she was more than vulnerable.
He fucked up. He always fucked up, especially with relationships.
Aaron let her dad get into his head, with the blackmail, with the story of the woods where they found Haylee. That freaked him out, scared him, perhaps he sided with her dad after that information was shared with him, he wasn’t even sure anymore. The only thing he was sure of was that he was in a lose/lose situation. Why hadn’t he been upfront with her about the script? When he first met her, and they clicked. It could have been a casual thing “—Hey, by the way, I write scripts, and I’m working on something. I would love to talk to you about it, share your thoughts?” I mean, she could have told him to fuck off, but at least he wouldn’t have lied to her for months.
“—Look,” Aaron stumbled with his words. What could he say? Sorry didn’t seem to suffice.
“No, it’s okay,” Haylee interjected. “The three of us are going to talk. You, me, and my dad. Until then, let’s just wait. I need to get out of here bad, until then, I just want to focus on my frickin’ sanity for right now.”
Aaron nodded. “Okay.” He avoided eye contact once again, pretending to be on his phone. He fumbled with his social media accounts, trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing pain in his head.
Haylee centered her attention on her breathing. Balancing herself, trying to take control of the situation she was losing her balance in. She was taught a trick, one of the few things she actually learned from a doctor when she was younger—the grounding technique.
Find five things she could see, count them out, focus on each.
One: Aaron, he looked broken, maybe not as broken as her, but definitely not well, physically nor emotionally. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for his condition. When people let her in, she ruined them, somehow. She brought death and sadness wherever she went.
Two: Aaron’s stupid wrestling shirt with Macho Man Randy Savage’s big purple sunglasses on it. It had ripped down the neck during the struggle. This made her want to smile. Aaron was many things; one of those things was an ass for what he did to her that night, leaving her alone. He was also kind, caring, and very much a nerd. She had come to adore that in the last few weeks.
Three: The ugly painting of a small-town diner across the waiting room. Bland pastel colors. She needed to focus on something other than Aaron, and her eyes kept creeping up to the painting. She didn’t know why, but she hated it. It seemed lifeless like the artist had no passion, just a mixture of paints and brushstrokes to make a few dollars. It reminded her of herself, she was there, present in the world, but void of real life, true meaning. Just a framed picture, pretty on the outside, frameable, but no passion or love on the inside. Hollow.
Four: The giant fish tank next to Aaron, at least a dozen or so varying fish, all lively. The only thing in the room that seemed to conta
in a positive life experience. The fish varied in size shapes and vibrant colors. Or was it positive? The fish safe in a small tank, never experiencing life outside in the real world.
Five: A young boy, probably five. His nose was red, as are his flush cheeks. Haylee named him Johnny, he looked sick, cuddle against his mother’s lap. He played with a tablet, a raspy cough every few minutes. Haylee liked the boy; she pictured him cozied up to her as if he was her own son. Haylee stroking his feverish forehead, whispering to him that everything would be okay, and meaning it.
“Haylee,” Gerald’s loud voice awakened her from the daydream. “I got the car pulled up. We’re ready to go, you okay?” Her father approached her, embraced her with his strong arms, like a superhero out of one of those cheesy summer blockbuster movies. His massive muscular frame absorbed her within his embrace. She loved to hate the comfort his mere presence gave her. The man who wouldn’t listen to her needs yet would do everything and anything in his power to keep her safe. She didn’t want to need his love, and she wanted to hate the man who forced her into the doctor’s arms, more people who wouldn’t listen. She tried to blame him for the loss of their mother, the returning visions, voices. Yet, she couldn’t. She loved him, the bond between a daughter and a father who tried his best, yet failed time and time again—fractured yet whole. Perfectly imperfect. She wept into his shoulder. Tears of exhaustion, anger, frustration, and more than anything else, fear. It was wonderful. She knew it was going to get worse before it got better.
She would stand her ground.
They had been lucky. It was a nasty fight, but it could have been much worse.
The three of them left the hospital behind. Not much was said on the way to the car. A soft snowfall powdered the night sky, continuing the barrage of snow their small town has been battling all week—one of the worst winters in recent history, in more ways than one.
“Your head looks terrible,” Haylee entered the passenger door, buckling her seat belt. She finally broke her silence.
“I have been in worse shape,” Gerald responded, a reassuring smile. Gerald received his own set of injuries from the attack. Six staples to the back of his head where the lamp was smashed over him. Split his head wide open. He received stitches on his face from the scratches, sure to leave some wicked scars.
Haylee finally relaxed; the tension left her body. The waiting room was too much. The commotion put her on edge. The inner confines of the car, surrounded by people, friends, and family, she could finally breathe.
“How is he?” Gerald asked, looking over to Haylee, who took the front passenger seat.
“Ask him yourself,” Haylee broke eye contact with her father. The feeling of safety aside, she realized something happened between Aaron and him. Surely, the reason Aaron had been acting funny. The hate part of her father’s relationship started to override the love, the safety. Once again, he was sticking his nose in her life, ruining something that was making her happy.
“Minor concussion, head’s killing me, throat hurts like a bitch,” Aaron answered. “You?”
“Just a scratch,” Gerald countered. “Six staples.”
“Jesus,” Aaron frowned. “If you didn’t show up…”
“Yeah,” Gerald answered back. “When I got into your apartment, he was choking you good. You went blue.”
“—Why were you there? Why are you here in Michigan?” Haylee interrupted. She was thankful for her dad’s involvement, but also angry he’d been spying on her.
“If I weren’t there, your friend would be dead,” Gerald didn’t hold back. “Maybe thanking me would be a better way to start a conversation?”
“That’s not what I asked,” she shot back, her words thick with anger.
“I was there because I was worried about you,” Gerald threw the vehicle in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. “Because you left me a message on my machine that you weren’t going to see your doctor anymore. I was afraid I was going to get a call that someone found you unresponsive in the woods again, or worse, dead this time. I can’t lose another daughter,” Gerald spoke calmly. He tried to avoid emotional outbursts when speaking to his daughter. It was hard to do, due to the array of emotions swirling in his head. He wanted to scream at her, to try with sheer might to make her listen to him. It was the right thing to do. She needed medical help, mental help. She wasn’t safe, and he was afraid she’d harm herself if left alone.
“That’s not fair,” Haylee replied.
“We’ve learned life’s not fair, look at us, we’re about as unfair as it gets,” Gerald waited for an opening, turned carefully into oncoming traffic.
“We all need to talk, we need to straighten this out,” Gerald added. “A man just broke into your apartment, Aaron, why? Why would the man Gary Thom, who murdered Haylee’s old neighbors, come after you? That was him, right?”
“I have no idea,” Aaron said. “I have never seen him before. He attacked me blindsided. I barely got a look at him.”
“What about you, Haylee? Any idea why? Did you see him?”
“No idea why,” she replied. “But, yes, I think so. I think it was him.”
“It’s all so crazy, none of it makes sense,” Aaron added. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“It’s about five more minutes to your duplex, Haylee. Is it okay if I come in with you guys,” Gerald asked? “We can sort some of this out.”
“I don’t know,” Haylee kept the eye contact broken.
“I think he should,” Aaron added.
Haylee frowned, “Fine.”
No one spoke for the rest of the ride. Haylee was lost in thought, her mind wandering, losing grip on reality. Everything was beginning to spin out of control. Of course, her dad brought up the woods. He always did; it was his way of trying to put an end to any argument about her mental health. She hated it, and he brought it up in front of Aaron, which made her fill with rage.
Yet, without her dad’s protection, Aaron would surely be dead. Then, that man, Gary, stared at her, just for those fleeting moments, like they had been connected, old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. There was a weird connection to him, despite never having met him before. He didn’t attack her; he didn’t strike her; he was in awe of her.
TWENTY-NINE
Gary ditched the car on the side of the road. Once he hit the forest, Mother would protect him. The vehicle was not safe—a quick means of escape, but that was all. The darkness of the woods, the protection of Mother, that was his only chance of survival. He would be in her arms soon. Yet, despite this, a fear rumbled in his stomach. He had one duty to kill the best friend. The fat one, to gut him, leave his innards all over the apartment, and bring the head back to Mother. Mother was surely hungry again, and the fat man was the one to torment the girl the most.
One job, and he failed it. Mother was sure to be angry. Gary would go hungry, left unloved.
Gary’s only reason for existence was to feed Mother, to keep her happy, and to keep the girl drowning in depression, despair. They both fed off that, drank from her misery, like sweet flowing nectar, it strengthened them both. They feasted on flesh and despair, like food and water to humans, their sustenance.
For Gary, failure wasn’t an option. He needed another plan. He needed to eat, and so did Mother.
THIRTY
Haylee’s apartment was not a part of the crime scene, and so that’s where they stayed until the investigation finished. Aaron’s side of the duplex was wrapped up with the yellow investigation tape. Officers have been in and out of his apartment all evening, gathering the last few bits of evidence. After sunset, it had quieted down.
When Haylee, Aaron, and Gerald entered her apartment, they brought is
two large pizza’s, which Gerald sat on the coffee table. The smell made Haylee’s stomach growl. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she ate anything. Trayer, hearing them enter, loudly began barking from her bedroom.
“Glad we picked up some food. I’m sure we’re all hungry after all that,” Gerald went into the kitchen. He grabbed napkins and plates.
Aaron had taken a seat on the couch. Famished, he’d already eaten half a slice of pizza.
“Shit, I’m hungry,” Aaron poured a two-liter of Mountain Dew into a plastic cup Gerald had bought as well.
“Let me go take care of Trayer, I will let him outside to run around,” Haylee added. “He needs to run some of his pent-up energy.” She let the Great Dane out into the night. He was hyper, that’s for sure. She felt terrible for being gone so long, leaving her furry companion locked up. She returned to the living room, grabbed a slice of pizza. She didn’t want to talk. Instead, she returned to the kitchen to watch Trayer from the window while she ate.
A perfect opportunity to sneak some Seagram’s from the cupboard, taking a few long sips. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She realized she had a few missed calls from earlier. It was her. It was Lydia.
Haylee’s heart jumped into her throat.
She answered.
“Things have escalated,” Gerald spoke to Aaron in the living room. “There’s more going on than we know about with this Gary guy. It wasn’t a random attack on you.”
“Yeah?’ Aaron thought the same. Except he couldn’t figure out the connection. He’d been researching Gary’s life online. He knew quite a bit about him.
“—Can you make it?” Haylee entered the living room, talking on her cell phone. “Thank you so much. I really need your help. I’m glad we spoke the other night too…yes…yes...You’re in town already? Okay? Yes, perfect... Yep... See you soon.” Haylee hung the phone up, slipped it into her pocket.