The smell, pungent and suffocating, overwhelms me when I open the cupboards to see if there’s anything inside. They’re empty apart from moss.
This place should have been condemned; it’s gross.
My feet carry me through to the living room; old furniture lays askew at weird angles as if it had been pushed out of the way and just left abandoned in a hurry. There’s dirt thick on all the surfaces and a stream of dust particles swirl in the light streaming through the window, making me want to sneeze and cover my face with a surgical mask all in the same breath.
I will my memory to give me something, to stir any recollection, but nothing comes.
My cell phone vibrates and Garret’s name pops up on the screen. I don’t answer it. The battery beeps to warn me it’s about to die.
Perfect. I’m here with nowhere to charge it.
Slipping the phone back in my pocket, I make my way through the house and come to a closed door just down the corridor to the left of the living room. My hand hovers at the handle, trepidation triggering my movement to slow as I push it down and the metal clicks. Dread cramps my stomach, almost buckling me over in pain. Fear, fresh and real, almost like falling and not knowing if you’re going to be able to catch yourself, swarms me like bees pushing their stings into my pores. Darkness clouds in around me, despite it being morning. An emotional storm crackles the atmosphere around me.
Thud…
Pushing the door open, it squeals with the effort and expands the inside with every inch it cracks open.
Thud…
A stench much worse than the one everywhere else hits me in the face like a fog. Sickness burns up my esophagus, threatening to spill over the floor.
What the hell is that?
Dead flies litter the worn carpet in dark heaps, like they all committed suicide in a pact. There are two twin beds situated on separate sides of the wall, mattresses bare of sheets and laid askew, half on and half off the base, sullied with dark stains. Placing a hand over my mouth, my feet move forward but my lungs struggle, fighting for clean air.
I take another step inside and phantom screams echo around me.
“No! Please!”
“Don’t!”
“No!”
The stains are blood. Flickers of images spin in my mind. Crimson puddles. Crying. Screams. Cuts. Pain.
Teen boys laughing and sneering before their screams are all there is and then it’s gone as quick as it came, a passing thunderstorm leaving me shaking in its wake. Itching need shoots through my veins to flee and my feet move without command. Before I can recall leaving the room, I’m outside, gagging and dropping to my knees. The concrete scrapes over my skin, but it doesn’t matter. The fresh air filling my lungs brings my nerves under control as I expel the last of the acid in my guts over the floor.
Trees, tall and billowing, sway in the steady breeze, the whooshing sounds of their leaves mimic the sound of waves and it calls to me.
I’m okay.
There’s an old wooden fence, discolored and patched with old mismatched panels. A rickety old gate sways, cracking like thunder every now and then when the breeze picks it up and slams it shut. Getting to my feet, a hiss whizzes past my lips as the sting on my knees makes itself known.
I open the back gate and my breath stills at the scenery.
There are trees and dirt paths going in all directions. It’s beautiful and reminds me of the lake house. It’s like a hidden world tucked behind a horror show.
Following one of the paths, I let instinct guide my feet, picking up the pace and enjoying the heavy thump of my heart, dutifully reminding me I’m alive. Having no cell phone and no power to charge it eats away at my thoughts the farther I walk, and I know I need to do something about that or find a hotel to stay in for the night. A hot shower and a meal sound appealing right about now.
I debate turning back. I’ve been wandering without consequence of the distance I’ve walked for a good thirty minutes, but I push the urge to the back of my mind to get lost with so much already hidden here.
Barking snaps into the air, alerting me to the presence of a dog that bounds from some brush and shakes his body manically, sending water drops flying in all direction, including up my legs.
A voice calls out for him to wait. “Rocko!”
A woman appears a second later and she startles when she sees me standing there. Her hand reaches for her chest, her face paling at the sight of me. “Oh, Lord. You gave me a fright.”
“Sorry.”
Her black Labrador drops a ball at my feet and she rolls her eyes. “Not everyone wants to play with you, Rocko. Sorry. He’s not used to seeing people on our walks.”
His wet fur brushes against my leg so I reach down to pet him. “He’s all wet.”
The woman takes the few steps toward, me closing the space. She looks to be in her late fifties; crinkles decorate her face, showing her life experience like a road map for all to see. Her cotton tee has mud spatter and she’s wearing rain boots.
“He goes in the lake. It’s hard to keep him from it.”
My head snaps up to her face. “Lake?”
She nods over her shoulder and studies me for a few silent beats. “Yes. Just through the trees. I wouldn’t recommend going down there by yourself.”
My brow pinches at her words. “Why?”
Her brow mimics mine. “Are you staying around here?” she asks abruptly.
Folding my arms over my chest, I kick the tennis ball at my feet away and watch Rocko go fetch it.
“Yes. Why?” My tone is defensive, and rightly so. I don’t like being interrogated by strangers acting weird and like they own the place.
“It’s just I haven’t seen you before and…” She looks around. “I know pretty much everyone who still lives around here.” Maybe she’s just protective of where she lives; I can relate to that. Up at the lake house we’re on alert when strangers appear, just in case they’re camping in the woods without permission and might cause trouble, leave litter, or burn fires incorrectly.
“It’s so pretty here. Why did people move away?” I query, ignoring her question, astounded that such a place could be abandoned and left to the wild.
Brushing down her shorts, she shakes her head and then moves to a fallen tree stump and sits, absentmindedly tugging the tennis ball from her dog’s mouth and tossing it into the thicket.
“When the plans for the shopping mall got scrapped and the plant closed, it forced many people to move on. It was a pretty new area built for the workers of the plant, so when it closed, there was no need for people to stay around here.” She shrugs, looking down and scraping some mud from her boot using the heel of the other one.
It’s only about an hour from the local town though; surely people could travel from here into the town? It seems like such a waste.
She’s watching me like she can read my thoughts.
“Superstition is a powerful thing, and also played a part in why people didn’t stick around. It’s a small community. You must have heard the rumors about this place if you’re staying with someone here?”
It’s a question again, prying to find out who I’m here with. A shiver rakes over my skin. “Superstition? About the Devil family murder, you mean?”
Her eyes narrow and my heart stampedes in my chest. Will she know who I am? Does it show on my face? Do I look like them?
Irrational. Calm down, Evi.
“They were a cult family. Used to worship the devil and make sacrifices in the woods. They cursed this place, the crazy mother killing those children as an offering. Absolute insanity, and people didn’t want to be near the cursed house or lake.”
Cult?
Offering?
What the hell?
“The lake?” I ask, ignoring her other comments. I get people not wanting to live next to a murder scene, but why the lake?
She nods once again through the brush and swipes at a stray tear. “Awful. So young.”
“Who?”
Rocko begins barking insistently at footfalls sounding from the direction I came from. The woman gets to her feet. “Rocko, come here.”
Through a small clearing, Max comes into view.
No feature stands out above the rest on his beautiful face, each one as perfect as the next. His eyes hold an intensity like none I’ve witnessed before and his dark orbs make him even more appealing, hiding secrets within them. It’s not just the color though; in any shade they would be unflawed. It’s the almond shape and the way all his emotions display there like a projector screen.
“Oh, Maxwell.” She beams. “Is this the friend you’re here with?” she asks me curiously, giving me a knowing crinkle of her eyes.
Wringing my hands together, I don’t know what to say. I want to say yes but I don’t want to put him on the spot, and I don’t want him telling her who I really am. The way she spoke of my family, such animosity, not just towards my mother who committed the crime but towards them as an entirety.
Was I like them? Did I do the things she speaks of?
“Gertrude.” Max nods his head and kneels to stroke and play with the dog.
“I was just asking if you were the friend this young lady is staying with?” she asks, winking her eye but it looks odd like something flew in it.
“Always looking for gossip, Gertrude,” he jests, giving her a wink, which makes the corners of her lips stretch over her face, reaching all the way up to her eyes. They are a diluted blue color and barren of any eyelashes.
“I’m getting old now, Maxwell. I must live vicariously through the younger generation.”
Standing to his full height, he comes to stand beside me, nudging me with his arm. “You don’t look a day over thirty,” he says, initiating a cackle from her lips
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far but there is plenty of spirit in me, yet” She points towards him, a sultry tinge to her tone.
My eyes widen and I have to bite on my gum to stop from smirking.
“I should get Rocko home. Don’t forget to stop by so I can pay you for moving that trash for me,” she tells Max, and puts Rocko’s lead in place, waving her hand in the air as she leaves us standing there.
Bugs whizz and hum around us, floating like feathers after a pillow fight, and the sun is shining only we’re hidden beneath the canopy of the trees, making it appear much cooler than it is. The small streams of sunlight that penetrate through the branches glitter and sparkle, making it ethereal.
I’m aware of how close Max is standing to me on a level I don’t want to explore; I wish the need inside me wasn’t so dominating at times. Hiding the demons inside only lasts so long.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, shattering the silence. His body turns into mine, and he’s so close his scent wraps around me like a blanket, touching every follicle standing in awareness over my skin.
He’s so much taller than me. I find myself staring at his chest and wondering if he’s hairless under his top or if he has a dusting of hair like a grizzly bear ready to eat me up.
“I needed some fresh air. It’s stunning back here,” I whisper, quelling the impure thoughts with a squeeze of my thighs.
Looking over at where Gertrude said the water is, I ponder how large the lake is. How deep, how cold and freeing.
His chest moves up and down with his breathing but he’s not saying anything. Slowly, I creep my eyes up his body to see him once again examining me intently.
“I don’t think you should be out here, especially alone.”
A snort rumbles out of me, quickly followed by a crimson splattering of embarrassment. “Because of the devil worshipping and offerings?”
Rolling his eyes, he reaches out and rubs down my arm and I feel it all the way down to the marrow of my bones. “Is that what Gertrude was telling you? She’s an old fruit loop, Evi. Been around here way too long with no life so she embellishes the truth.”
I move towards the brush but I’m stopped by his hand grabbing me, halting me. He’s so strong; there’s no strain or effort in his actions.
“Where are you going?”
I stare at his plump lips and lose myself to them and how fat they are. If I bit into them, would they pop like the skin on a peach?
“Down to the water.” I pull my arm free and jog forward.
“Evi,” he warns, but I ignore him and push towards where Gertrude had been gesturing. My feet stumble to a stop after clearing the trees when the water comes into view.
Lake?
It’s more of a pond than a lake, the dark green color off-putting with swirls of dirt and oil sitting on the surface. There’s no movement, no waves. It lays dormant.
Disappointment and something else I can’t pinpoint seeps inside me.
“Why didn’t you want me seeing this? It’s pathetic.” I shrug, rubbing my chest where an incessant thud pounds, keeping me alive.
He’s just watching me again and I shrink under his scrutiny. What response was he expecting? I’m at such a disadvantage when it comes to him.
“Max! Tell me why you were so against me coming here?”
He moves towards me and points off towards a rocky area. “A boy was murdered over there it was around the same time as your family.”
I follow his line of sight and then look back at him.
That’s awful, but so what?
“What happened to him?” He doesn’t speak and I want to scream at him and pound my fist against his huge chest. “Just tell me, goddamn it!” I demand, sick of this tiptoeing. I’m not a child.
“They say your mother murdered him and buried him in the woods.”
They say your mother murdered him.
The empty hole that lives inside my chest opens at his confession. Who the hell was this woman?
“Who is they?” I ask, confused. If it’s stupid Gertrude then who knows what really happened.
“The police.”
“Why? Who was he and why kill him here and go to the effort of burying him only to then go to the house and murder her entire family, unless it’s what triggered her to actually want to kill everyone,” I rush out. Spending too much time in Garret’s sessions has given me an overactive imagination.
“It wasn’t the same night”
My thoughts clash and collide and then stop. “What?”
“His remains were discovered around the same time as your families bodies, they searched the back area of your house and found a fresh-ish gravesite with his remains buried there but he had been killed weeks before.”
My legs weaken and I drop to my butt, needing to sit before falling.
We weren’t her only victims?
“Who was he?”
I sense his body moving towards me before his shadow casts me in shade. “He was a friend of your brother’s.”
A shiver passes through me, sending chills up my spine, and all the hairs stand on end on the back of my neck.
“Why did it take so long for them to find him? Did anyone report him missing?” I breathe, desperate for answers so everything makes some kind of sense.
“He was a troubled teen. His mom thought he ran away.”
So she didn’t look for him? How bad was he?
“Why would my birth mom do something like that?” It’s not really a question for him, just one I want the answer to. Not knowing why is the worst part. I wish she left an address for me to find her so I can just get the answers from the source.
Why would she ever be allowed free?
Dropping down beside me, he shakes his head.
“Evi, don’t lose sleep over him. He wasn’t a good person.”
I dart my eyes to his. “He was a kid, you said?”
“Sixteen. And a mean little asshole.”
Exhaling, I close my eyes and try to think of the brothers I know I had, but nothing manifests and I’m left even more frustrated.
“What was my mother like?”
He becomes tense, snapping a blade of grass and pulling it between his fingers. “From what I remember about her, she was vacant.”
“So, she wasn’t around much?”
I can feel his eyes on the side of my face but I’m too frightened to look at him and see pity in his stare. “She was around, just high on meds”
High on meds?
“So, drugs?” I turn to face him, curious.
“Substance abuse is what they say led to her behavior.”
“Who said that?”
“The police. The papers. Theorists.” He shrugs. “I was only twelve when it happened so I don’t know everything.” Irritation shows in his rigid posture and his constant pulling on the grass and flicking it towards the water.
“You said back at the house that you were my friend, not my brother’s.”
Sunlight bleeds through his hair making the strands shine with golden licks. His dark eyes melt to an almost caramel color when the sun catches them just right. A fever takes over my skin as I drink him in and the usual sense of shame follows the bad thoughts. I look back to the water and fight the urge to wade into it.
“I was younger than your brothers and didn’t like them.”
“Why?”
“They weren’t good people. They weren’t good to you. They should have looked after you and they didn’t.”
What if they needed to be looked after too? Why do I feel like he’s not being truly forthcoming?
“You’re being vague,” I say.
“Because it’s better for you that way.”
Anger coils my muscles. How dare he say that? What the hell does he know? He knew me when I was nine. I’m a woman now and don’t need anyone telling me what’s best for me.
Getting to my feet, I leave him sitting there, watching me leave. The trees’ stray branches brush past me as I pick up pace. Max’s footfalls sound behind me and I know he’s already caught up to me.
“Evi, don’t be mad. I just don’t think you’d want to remember them.”
Spinning, I push at his chest, poking my finger to make a point. “How dare you think for me? I’m a grown ass woman, Max. What do you think I came back here for? I need to know who I am, what happened to me. Them. Us.”
Exhaustion overcomes me and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since arriving, and even before that. My mouth is dry and making me trip on words. Loneliness leaks into me and I begin to feel like I don’t exist at all. That maybe I died that day and all this is me in limbo.
“Evi, come have something to eat and rest for a while. That’s what I was doing before coming out here. I came to find you when I noticed your gate open and you not there. Mom’s made lunch.”
The thought of food appeals over being grumpy and I find myself following him back to his mom’s in silence, stomping my feet harder than necessary, just like the child I claimed I’m not anymore. The smirk on his lips tells me he finds it amusing, and for a second, the burden of not knowing anything lifts and all I want is to know him.