“Yes. My daughter and husband,” Rachel answered the question as she walked through the living room.
“Are they okay?” The woman kept asking questions.
“I don’t know.” Tears fell from Rachel’s eyes as she tried to stifle her sobs.
She entered the kitchen slowly and what she saw there made her drop hard on her knees. Her heart felt like it was being ripped to pieces. On the floor lay her husband, dead. His intestines have been pulled out and were now lying next to him. The blood pool around him just kept getting bigger until it finally reached Rachel’s feet. She snapped into realization that the killer could still be there. But before she could react, she was on the ground.
A sharp pain came from the back of her feet, like someone slashed them. The pain shot through her body, forcing her to scream. She tried with all her might to get up and run, but she miserably failed. In a desperate attempt to call for help, Rachel crawled through her husband’s pool of blood to reach where the phone had landed when she fell. But one sharp pain after another shot through her back and she finally gave up hope. She could feel the life draining from her body. Rachel somehow managed to use the rest of her strength to flip her body over to see her attacker.
It was her daughter—her own flesh and blood. Something shone in the young girl’s eyes. Madness. Whoever it was, Rachel didn’t recognize it as the little girl she gave birth to. She wanted to think that she was just dreaming, that somehow the blood loss was making her hallucinate. But sadly, she knew what she was seeing was real. “Layla,” she cried out. “Why?”
No response came from the little girl. The last thing Rachel saw before she passed out was the image of Layla slicing through her skin.
The police arrived too late. Rachel and Richard were dead. But Layla was very much alive in her room, sleeping away on her bed, with blood soaked clothes.
After evaluations were done on Layla, experts concluded that she was unstable and they placed her in an institution where she would be watched closely.
* * *
Two years later, Layla let out some secrets she had been holding in about the death of her parents.
“How are you feeling today, Layla?” Her therapist, Tara, asked her in that usual calm but happy tone.
“I know who killed them.” Layla lowered her head, fiddling with her fingers.
The therapist leaned in closer to Layla, obviously eager to know the truth behind the brutal killings. The therapist knew the little girl was the one behind it, but she needed to know more. “Who killed them?” she asked.
“My sister.” She looked up at the therapist, studying her facial expression.
“You don’t have a sister.” Tara was confused with this new piece of information.
“Not anymore.” Layla’s voice turned cold. Tara stayed silent, waiting for her to continue on. “My mom and dad killed her.”
“How?” Tara was on the edge of her seat, listening eagerly.
Layla shrugged and turned to her doll, which sat next to her on the couch. “Her name was Lacy and her spirit lives in my doll now.” She had a huge smile on her face as she looked back at her therapist.
Tara couldn’t help but feel scared as she looked over at the doll, watching it closely. It didn’t turn its head and smile like she imagined it would. But a hint of malice glinted in Layla’s eyes and she smiled as if she had just won something.
With a shaky voice, the therapist turned her focus back on Layla. “How was she killed?” Her eyes never left the little girl. Even though she was a young, Tara knew what she was capable of.
Layla placed her ear near the doll’s mouth, nodding her head every few seconds. She then looked back at her therapist. “Ever heard of a miscarriage?”
Tara nodded. “That’s how she died? That can’t be your mom and dad’s fault.”
“Mom was drinking and doing lots of bad things while dad just let her.” Layla stopped, glancing at her doll. “I personally think they deserved it.”
Home Alone
Don’t answer the door.
“Cynthia, we’re leaving,” her mother called out to her from the bottom of the staircase.
Cynthia rushed down the stairs to give her mother and father hugs before they left for dinner. She embraced them, the smell of vanilla mixed with cheap cologne wafting to her nostrils as she did so.
“Don’t answer the door to anyone,” her dad said as he pulled away from his daughter’s hug.
“I know, I know,” Cynthia huffed. She pushed her parents out the door, knowing very well if she didn’t make them leave now, they’d be late for their dinner reservations. Plus, she enjoyed the time alone.
As soon as she shut the front door, Cynthia felt a sense of freedom in the air. She could turn the music up as loud as she wanted and dance anywhere without any interruptions. The excitement she felt was building up in her. She raced up the stairs at a track runner’s speed and jumped onto her bed.
She switched on the radio, changing it to her favorite station and dancing around to the songs that played. She danced like a fool, not a care in the world because no one was around to judge her. She would never have the guts to dance in her room if her parents were home.
Out of the blue, a high-pitched “bing!” came from her laptop. She turned down the radio a bit, sitting on her bed before opening the laptop. It wasn’t one of those fancy models with a webcam or anything like that. Nonetheless, it functioned properly and she loved it.
On the screen popped up an instant message from her friend, Lauren.
Lauren789: Hey girl.
Cynthia hovered her fingers over the keyboard before replying to her friend.
Cynthia1995: Been a while…
Lauren789: I know. I’m sorry about letting that fight ruin our friendship. I shouldn’t have flipped out because you’re dating my ex.
Cynthia1995: We were immature, don’t worry about it.
A sense of relief washed over Cynthia. It had been at least half a year since she talked to Lauren because of the fight they had. Knowing their problems are now finally behind them was a good feeling. A smile crept on Cynthia’s face, making a dimple show on her cheek.
Lauren789: How are you and him anyways?
Cynthia1995: We broke up.
Five minutes passed and no reply came in. Cynthia checked to see if her internet was out. It’d be a reasonable explanation because of the storm brewing outside. Thunder cracked and lightning lit up the night sky for a few seconds. The wind blew so strong that it seemed it was whistling or singing the songs of nature.
Lauren789: Oh, I’m sorry.
Cynthia1995: Don’t be. He was a jerk anyways.
Lauren789: So true. :) So can I come over? I’m kind of bored, parents are out.
Cynthia1995: Mine are ou, too. Come on over, you know where I live.
Lauren789: Be there soon.
Cynthia1995: Be safe, the weather is terrible.
Lauren789: Don’t worry about me, I'll be fine. :)
Lauren789 is offline
Cynthia hopped off her bed and turned the music up again. She pranced all the way downstairs and grabbed some snacks and beverages to take upstairs.
She let out a sigh as she dropped the items on her bed. It was a happy sigh. Everything was going perfect for her. Things were getting back to what they were with her old best friend. It took half a year, but they finally realized their stupid actions and made up.
A loud knock echoed through the whole house, overpowering her music. It made Cynthia jump a little. She peered out her window, but she couldn’t tell if someone was by the front door because a tree was blocking her line of sight.
On her way down the stairs, she had a weird feeling in her gut. Somehow, she knew the person on the other side of the door wasn’t Lauren. She didn’t know why, but she could sense danger nearby. Slowly, she approached the door. There was no peephole or window near the front door so it wasn’t like she could look out to see who was there. The years of watching too many horr
or movies and reading bad news in the papers too often finally got to her, making her fear the worse. She remembered the many horrible stories about children staying home alone and what happened to them. As she reached out to touch the door knob, Cynthia knew she had to man up and just answer the door.
“It’s just my nerves,” she said under her breath. She relaxed her posture and shook out her nerves before opening the door.
A stranger stood in front of her, dripping wet from the rain. It was hard to tell exactly what he looked like because it was too dark outside, but the flashes of lightning helped her make out some of his facial features. He had many wrinkles on his face, probably from years of frowning, and his clothes like they were from a homeless man. He had a weird vibe about him but she shrugged it off, thinking it was just her nerves.
“Can I help you?” she asked the strange man, with a tone that showed no fear or nervousness.
But instead of answering, he just walked away without saying anything. Cynthia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She poked her head out to see where the man went, but he was nowhere to be found.. “Okay, that was weird,” she said to herself as she closed the door. No more answering the door tonight. Her thoughts were such a mess that she barely noticed her heart was thumping in her chest like a bird trying to get free from its cage. She made sure to lock the door before heading back to her room. As she walked up the stairs, she noticed that weird feeling she had earlier was still there. It lingered in her like a disease. And the more she ignored it, the worse it got.
Her room was like her sanctuary. Just walking in made her feel as if it was just any ordinary night in which she should have done her homework, but procrastinated instead. The warm room was a welcome change after feeling the cold night air. Her heart returned to normal and steady beats, but the strange feeling of something being wrong still stayed with her.
She rested on her bed, listening to a piano melody and some other songs on the radio. She hummed along until another knock snapped her out of her worry-free state. Cynthia hopped off the bed once again to answer the door. This time she was confident that it was Lauren.
Opening the door and seeing her friend’s gleaming smile made her feel really excited. The bad feelings were gone and were replaced with happiness of seeing Lauren. They were both speechless for a few moments, communicating only through their smiles and eyes.
The pitter-patter of the rain made Cynthia come to her senses. She moved from the door frame, letting Lauren come inside. “Come on in, it’s raining out there.”
Lauren seemed thankful for that. “Wow. This place hasn’t changed a bit,” she said looking around and taking in the familiar surroundings.
Cynthia walked up the stairs with her friend following behind. When they reached Cynthia’s room, they both got a good look at each other. It was one of those moments when you see someone and just can’t express your happiness into words.
“It’s great to see you,” Cynthia murmured. She pulled Lauren in for a hug, wrapping her arms around her friend’s tiny waist.
“It’s great to see you, too.” Lauren mumbled into Cynthia’s hair as they hugged. They pulled apart eventually and plopped onto the bed, just like old times.
They spent the next ten minutes reminiscing the old days, laughing until they had tears in their eyes, and talking about what’s been happening in each other’s lives recently.
Suddenly, the familiar ping of an instant message came from Cynthia’s laptop. “What’s that?” Lauren asked, turning to Cynthia.
“It’s the sound for when I get an instant message,” Cynthia groaned. She sat up to check who it was from.
Unknown: It was nice seeing you tonight.
“Oooh. Who’s the lucky boy?” Lauren teased her friend, nudging her in the tummy. Cynthia sat motionless on the bed, holding her breath. She didn’t lift a finger to type back nor did she acknowledge her friend.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s him…” she muttered. Her hands began to shake.
“Who?” Lauren asked, trying to get her friend to talk to her. Something was clearly wrong.
“A g-guy came here to-tonight. He didn’t say a-anything. He just showed up…and left,” Cynthia sputtered, putting words together and hoping they come out understandable.
“I’m sure everything will be all right. Look, just don’t reply to him and he won’t mess with you.” Lauren comforted her. “Freaks like this only do it because they want a reaction. Don’t give him one.”
“But how does this guy know where I live and why is he instant messaging me?” Cynthia asked, feeling as if she was about to have an anxiety attack.
“Maybe it’s just a friend messing with you,” Lauren replied.
“Probably,” Cynthia said in a low voice.
“You’ll be okay,” Lauren said in a calm tone.
“Thanks.” She relaxed and gave her friend a grateful smile.
Lauren’s phoned vibrated and she pulled it out quickly. “Crap,” she whispered to herself as she read the text message. Then, she looked up at Cynthia with a frown on her face. “I know I just got here, but my mom just got home and she wants me there now.”
“It’s okay. Go,” Cynthia assured her. Lauren left the house, and now Cynthia was alone again.
Another instant message popped up on her laptop. Cynthia looked cautiously, knowing very well who it was going to be. Nothing scared her more than that strange man.
Unknown: Home alone again, I see. It’d be sad to see something happen to your friend.
Cynthia1995: Don’t you dare touch her.
She knew she shouldn’t reply. She didn’t know this person and for all she knew, this was just a prank. But she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want to have the guilt of knowing something bad had happened to her friend and she didn’t do anything to save her. That would haunt her for eternity.
Her phone began to ring, the call coming from an unknown number. Cynthia declined it and tossed her phone on the bed, but it just rang again. Then, someone started knocking on the front door. She felt herself starting to panic, her heart pounding in her chest like a bird trying break free from its cage. Is that the man? Why is he doing this? What does he want? All these questions went through her mind as the knocking got louder and the ringing continued.
Simultaneously, everything stopped and the entire house was quiet. But instead of calming her down, the sudden silence made Cynthia’s heart drop to her stomach. This isn’t good, she thought.
The sound of the front door creaking open made her realize that her situation now was far worse than she could ever have imagined. She needed to hide and she needed to do it fast! Cynthia ran out of her room and crept to the top of the stairs. The door was ajar, but there was no sign of the man. The man was there, but she couldn’t see him.
Cynthia ran to the dumbwaiter at the end of the hallway. She got in quickly and closed the door. The front rope would make her go up, which wasn’t a choice because she was already at the top level of the house. The back rope would make her go down, and down she went.
The distinct sound of metal being dragged around made her heart pound. Cynthia held onto the back rope with her trembling hands, continuously pulling until she reached the bottom. She was in the basement, and the noise stopped.
Cynthia stayed in the dumbwaiter for a few minutes, debating whether or not she should open the door. She felt like she was in some sort of nightmarish game where she had to make the right decision or it would be game over. But unlike with other games she’s played before, she wouldn’t be able to start again if she made the wrong decision now. She could either stay inside the cupboard and possibly get found or risk it and run out to the little window in the basement so she can find her way to safety.
Any risk was worth taking if it meant getting out of here, she thought. Quietly, Cynthia opened the cupboard, letting out the breath she was holding in. She looked around to see if the man was there. But he wasn’t, and she felt r
elief wash over her like a tidal wave.
“Gotcha!” The raspy voice came out of nowhere, and in seconds the man appeared in front of her. Cynthia tried to shut the dumbwaiter door but she was too late. The man wrapped a chain around her frail neck and tightened it. She fought against him, kicking and trying to let out the loudest scream she could muster. But her screams turned into gasps for air, until she finally passed out. The man took a machete and brought it down on Cynthia, making sure she wouldn’t survive. He kept slicing until her head was decapitated, blood spilling all over his torn-up shoes. With the metal chain slung over his back, the man carried Cynthia’s dead body in one hand and her severed head in the other as he walked out of the basement.
He headed to the living room and carelessly dropped the body on the floor.
The sound of the door creaking open made the man look up to see Lauren standing by the hallway. Her eyes widened at the sight of Cynthia. Soon enough, that shocked expression turned into a look of satisfaction. A menacing smile slowly crept on Lauren’s face.
The man walked up to her. She handed him a bundle of money as he made his way out of the house. Before Lauren left, she took one last look at Cynthia’s body and decapitated head, then she grinned victoriously.
Hell’s Highway
A short bus ride to church, that’s all it was supposed to be.
“You excited to go to church?” Clayton asked his daughter Carla, who was sitting at the dining table with her breakfast.
She let out a groan as she scooped a spoonful cereal out of the bowl. “It’s my first day going, I don’t even know the preacher or anyone there.” Carla spoke as she chewed, making her words barely understandable to her father.
He waited till she was done with her food before he tried talking to her again. He placed himself on a stool next to his daughter, fiddling with the games on his phone till she was finished.