Hailey

12:00 PM

“You’re such a freak,” Lindsay laughed, throwing a french fry across the table. It landed in Hailey’s wavy, brown hair. Hailey and Lindsay were sitting in the school cafeteria. It was Friday, so both girls were in high spirits. “I can’t believe you think Ted Bundy is hot,” Lindsay said. Her jet-black bob was shining under the cafeteria’s fluorescent lights and the drugstore mascara she’d bought yesterday had formed big, black smudges under her dark, brown eyes. Hailey fished the french fry out of her soft waves and flicked it back across the table.

“He’s hotter than Ed Kemper, you perv,” Hailey said, adjusting her black RayBans. She was wearing dark purple lipstick that was accentuated by her dark locks, along with a black zip-up hoodie she had adorned with Nightmare Before Christmas patches.

“I never said Kemper was hot,” Lindsay huffed, taking a long swig from the straw in her chocolate milk. “I said the guy playing him on Netflix was hot.” She picked up the anemic looking hamburger from her tray and took a bite. Her nails were sloppily coloured black with a Sharpie marker.

“Whatever you say,” Hailey laughed. She shoveled a large forkful of lasagna from a plastic container into her mouth. Her eyelashes were so plied with mascara they looked like little spiders sitting behind her glasses. She spotted Amber in the food lineup and caught her attention, waving her over. Amber grabbed her tray and headed toward the table.

“’Sup, dudes?” Amber said, dropping her red tray onto the cafeteria table. Her slice of pizza bounced halfway off the flimsy, white plate it was on. She had a bottle of Diet Coke tucker underneath her arm that was nearly hidden by her long, straight hair. Amber slid onto the bench next to Lindsay. “What’cha talking about?” She folded her pizza lengthwise and took a bite, using her other hand to throw her fire engine red locks over her left shoulder.

“How to kill you,” Lindsay laughed. She grabbed the plastic fork from her tray and mimed stabbing Amber through the top of the head. Amber took the fork from Lindsay and stuck it in her hamburger. Amber laughed through a mouthful of pizza. Her face was caked in foundation five times lighter than her natural skin tone. Heavy black makeup lined her emerald green eyes.

“I wonder if I could kill somebody if my life depended on it,” Hailey pondered aloud.

“Amber already killed my hamburger, but you can kill one of my fries if you want,” Lindsay giggled. “But not this one,” she picked up a long french fry and folded it into her mouth. Her Bettie Page bangs jostled as she chewed.

“I could do it,” Amber bragged. She stretched her arms out in front of her, cracking her knuckles as if she was ready for a fight.

“You mean, if your life depended on it,” Hailey said. Her purple lipstick had all but worn away and was now just a ring around her mouth.

“Even if it didn’t,” Amber said. She leaned forward and continued on her slice of pizza. “I’ve always said we should have a Purge Night for real,” Amber said before turning her slice around and taking a bite of crust. A piece of pepperoni fell onto her tray.

“Yeah?” Lindsay asked. “Who would you kill?” She was genuinely curious. She had spent countless nights watching every episode of Killer Kids and Deadly Women on Netflix. They all had. Amber shrugged.

“I don’t have anyone in mind right now,” she replied. “But, I’m sure if I hated someone enough I could do it.” She unscrewed the cap of her Diet Coke and took a sip. “I just don’t hate anyone that much.”

“You’re lucky,” Hailey said softly, twirling a brown strand of hair around her bony finger while she stared at her phone. She noticed that Amber and Lindsay fell silent.

“What?” Hailey asked, looking up from her phone.

            “Who is it?” Amber asked. “Who would you kill?” She dabbed her mouth with the back of her sweater sleeve. Hailey let out a sigh.

            “Oh, just Ken,” she replied.

            “Your mom’s boyfriend?” Lindsay asked, shoving the last piece of hamburger into her mouth. “Didn’t they, like, just get together?”

            “A month ago,” Hailey replied scraping the last forkful of lasagna out of her container and into her mouth. “He’s a piece-of-shit junkie and he beats my mom,” Hailey said, mouth full. Her face grew hot. She’d spent the last four weeks watching her mom get physically and verbally abused by a middle-aged drug addict with no job. After Hailey’s dad died, her mom became dependent on alcohol and hooked up with some really awful men. Ken was the worst, hands down. If Hailey had the chance to kill Ken and get away with it, she’d take it.

            “Well,” Amber goaded, “let’s kill him.” She smiled emphatically. Hailey couldn’t tell if she was joking. “I’m serious,” Amber continued as if she’d read Hailey’s mind. “We’ve watched enough Forensic Files to know what not to do,” she said. “He’s a piece-of-shit junkie, you said it yourself. We can easily make it look like a home invasion.” Lindsay’s face lit up.

            “Wait, are we really talking about doing this?” she asked, hopeful.

            “Of course not,” Hailey said.

            “No, shut up. Yes, we are,” Amber interrupted. “Hails, Ken could beat your mom so bad one day that he kills her. Do you really want to take that chance?” Hailey’s expression changed.

            “No,” Hailey started. “But I also don’t want to take the chance of going to jail.”

            “We won’t go to jail,” Amber reassured her. “I promise. We’ll plan everything out perfectly and make sure there’s absolutely no way it can be traced to us.”

            “Awesome,” Lindsay said excitedly. “When do we do this?”

            “Tonight,” Amber said.

            “Tonight?!” Hailey asked shocked. “We don’t even know what we’re doing!”

            “Yes, we do,” Amber replied. “You and I will go to Hailey’s around midnight and slip in through the back door that Hailey will leave unlocked,” Amber said, looking at Lindsay. “We’ll grab a knife from the kitchen, stab Ken before he wakes up, throw some shit around to make it look like a robbery, and be back home before anyone even knows what went down,” Amber said as if she was reciting a recipe for chocolate chip cookies. “We’ll wear gloves so we don’t leave any prints.”

            “What about her mom?” Lindsay asked, looking at Amber. 

“She goes to bed at ten,” Hailey said. “And Ken usually passes out in the living room around eleven. My mom’s room is upstairs so you shouldn’t have a problem.”

            “And alibis?” Lindsay asked. She was very much on board with the plan, but only if it was foolproof.

            “We’ll just run Borderlands 2 on our computers in a custom lobby so it looks like we were online all night,” Amber responded. “Anything else?” Amber pumped her eyebrows at Lindsay.

            “I just want to make sure we’re bulletproof,” Lindsay said, giggling.

            “Wait, what do I do?” Hailey piped up.

            “You just wait in your room,” Amber said. “We’ll text you when we’re finishing up and you can wake up your mom saying you heard something downstairs. When you guys go to investigate, it will look like a burglary gone wrong and Ken will be dead on the floor, just how we like it.” She mimed wiping dirt off her shoulder. Hailey thought about the plan for a minute. This could actually work. Normally, she’d never think of killing someone. Not under any circumstance. But this wasn’t just any circumstance. Her mother’s life could be at stake and as far as Hailey was concerned, Ken didn’t deserve to breathe.

            “Okay,” Hailey said. “I’m in,”

12:00 AM

            Lindsay waited outside Amber’s house. She was wearing black leggings with a black Cradle of Filth hoodie and combat boots. Lindsay’s parents slept like the dead so it was no trouble for her to sneak out. She was waiting for Amber to get past her father in the den. He stayed up late most nights watching old war documentaries, usually until he passed out in his recliner. Amber came around the back of the house and walked toward Lindsay.

            “My dad was in the kitchen making a sandwich,” Amber whispered. “I had to sneak out the back door.” She pulled the hood of her black sweater snug around her face. “You ready?” Amber and Lindsay walked the three blocks to Hailey’s and crept around the back of the house. The air smelled good; the way it smells after a summer rain. The humidity was making the girls uncomfortable in their heavy sweaters. Lindsay tiptoed up the steps to the back patio and gingerly opened the back door, walking into the kitchen. Lindsay took off her boots and motioned for Amber to do the same.  They headed straight for the cutlery drawer. Lindsay and Amber had spent so much time in this kitchen they knew it like the back of their hands. Amber grabbed a butcher knife while Lindsay picked up a large serrated bread knife. They hid the knives behind their backs and crept down the hall to the den. Blue light from the television emanated into the hallway. Lindsay got to the den first. She peeked around the doorway and saw Ken fast asleep on the sofa, one leg hanging off onto the floor. About a dozen empty beer cans littered the coffee table. Lindsay turned around and gave Amber a nod. They crept into the den and stood over Ken’s sleeping body. Looming over him, Amber and Lindsay were in control. It was an entirely new sensation for both of them. Amber stared down at Ken and raised her knife above his abdomen. With her heart pounding, Lindsay copied Amber. “On three,” Amber whispered. “One, two, three,” she plunged her knife deep into Ken’s stomach. Lindsay

With her heart pounding, Lindsay did the same. “On three,” Amber whispered. “One, two, three,” she plunged the knife deep into Ken’s stomach. Lindsay shoved her knife into Ken’s ribcage. Ken’s eyes shot open. He tried to speak, but all he could do was make gurgling noises. Blood began dribbling from his mouth. Amber and Lindsay looked at each other in pure disbelief. They couldn’t believe they had just stabbed somebody. Moreover, they couldn’t believe how great it felt. Amber grabbed her knife from Ken’s stomach and plunged it into his neck. Lindsay took her knife out and aimed for Ken’s heart. The knife didn’t go through as easily as it did the first time, but it felt just as satisfying. Ken’s lifeless body slid onto the hardwood floor. Amber and Lindsay felt powerful; like Gods. They yanked their knives from the corpse. The job was done.

            Sitting at her computer desk, Hailey was startled by a knock on her bedroom door. Reluctantly, she got up from her chair and made her way to the door. She put her ear to the door to see if she could hear anything. Another knock made her nearly jump out of her skin. She opened the door a crack.

            “It’s us,” Lindsay whispered through the crack,

            “What the fuck?” Hailey whispered angrily. “What are you doing up here? You were supposed to text me when you were leaving so I could wake up my mom.” She opened her door wider, taking in the blood on Amber and Lindsay’s clothing. “Is it done?”

            “It’s done,” Amber said with a huge grin. “I think you’ll be pleased.” She looked at Lindsay and winked.

            “Okay, whatever,” Hailey said, exasperated. “Just leave now so I can go get my mom.” Amber and Lindsay obeyed and Hailey watched them head down the hallway, eyeing them until they disappeared down the stairs. Hailey started down the hall to her mom’s room. She knocked on the door and opened it slowly. The room was pitch black.

            “Mom?” Hailey said. Her mother didn’t answer. “Mom?” she said louder. “I think there’s someone in the house.” She turned on the light. Hailey’s mother was face down on the bed, her white linen sheets soaked in dark red blood. “Mom?!” Hailey screamed, racing toward the bed. She shook her mother’s body frantically but it was no use. She grabbed her mother’s cellphone from the nightstand and dialed 9-1-1. As she lifted the phone to her ear, an unspeakable pain radiated in her spine. Amber’s voice came from behind her.

            “Sorry, Hails,” she said, twisting the knife. “We don’t know how to stop.”                        

Matt

“We should head home,” Matt said, looking at me as we strolled along the pavement. We had been out for a walk when it started to rain. “We can cut through here,” he said, pointing ahead of us. Matt and I began walking faster and turned the corner down a dark alley. The sky was now a dull grey. All of a sudden, a low voice came from behind us.

“Gi’mme your wallet,” the voice said. We turned around and were met with a scrawny man, probably in his 30s, wearing dark jeans and a black hoodie with at least a dozen cigarette-sized holes in it. My heart was racing and I swear I could hear Matt’s heart racing, too.

“Now,” the man snapped, his face shrouded by the shadow of his hood. Both of his hands fiddled with something in the front pocket of his sweater.

“C’mon, dude,” Matt said, trying to walk away. The man took a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Matt.

“Hey, man,” Matt said, putting his hands up in defense. “Take it easy.” I could only see the man’s chin, but it was full of pockmarks. He aimed the gun at Matt’s face. His hand was shaking. He seemed more nervous than us.

“Gim’me your wallet,” he demanded again, steadying the pistol. “Gi’mme everything.” Matt began rifling through his pockets. He handed over his wallet and cell phone. He was panting heavily. We both were.

“Hurry up,” the man said, poking Matt in the chest with his gun. Matt took off his watch and fished a few quarters out of his jacket pocket, then handed them over. I wanted to help, so I opened my mouth to speak, but Matt put his hand out to silence me.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” He turned out his pockets to show the man he had given him everything.

“The ring,” the man said, pointing the gun at Matt’s left hand. “Hand it over.” Matt’s face fell.

“Please,” Matt pleaded. “It’s my wedding ring.” Matt’s wife had died six months ago. Since then, Matt and I had become inseparable.

“Don’t care,” the man said, pointing the gun back at Matt’s face. “Gi’mme it. Now.” The man was growing more aggravated by the second.

“You don’t understand,” Matt began. Before he could utter another word, a loud bang sounded through the alley. I watched in horror as Matt’s lifeless body fell to the ground. The scrawny man with pockmarks knelt down and snatched Matt’s wedding ring off his hand.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered before turning around and running down the dark alley. I stood there, my fur damp from the rain, hopeful that somebody would hear my frantic barking.

Jacob

“Come on, Jacob,” mom called from downstairs. I was gathering toys to go to my Uncle Rob’s for the first time. I had never met my Uncle Rob before, I hadn’t even heard of him.  

“Coming,” I called back from my bedroom. Mom was having Uncle Rob watch me while she ran errands. I zipped up my Avengers backpack and ran down the stairs. My mom was waiting in the front doorway holding my green jacket and light-up sneakers. She helped me get my coat on, and then tousled my bright red locks.

I was excited about getting to spend time with my new Uncle Rob. I wondered what games we were going to play, what shows we were going to watch, what snacks we were going to eat. We pulled up in front of a small one-storey house with its light blue paint all but chipped away. My excitement dissipated when we walked in the front door and a repugnant smell overtook me. Plastic bags of pop cans were haphazardly thrown on top of one another in the porch and stacks of damp newspapers lined the tiny hallway.

“Rob,” my mom called from the porch. “We’re here.” She turned her attention to me. “Your uncle is in that room,” she pointed to the second last room on the right. Then she left me there, standing in the porch with my backpack at my feet. Against my better judgment, I took off my shoes and made my way down the hall. I came to a room with a large man in a white tank top and plaid boxer shorts sitting in a recliner, taking swigs from a can of beer.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “I’m your Uncle Rob.” He took his chair out of recline mode and scooted to the end of the seat. “Just push those magazines out of the way and have a seat over there,” he said, pointing to the far side of the burgandy loveseat perpendicular to his recliner. I set my backpack on the cleanest looking part of the floor and sat down. I wasn’t sure what we were watching, but I knew mom wouldn’t be happy if she knew how many curse words were in it.

“You want some stew, pal?” Uncle Rob asked while getting out of his recliner. He was balding, but had scraggly bits of grey hear near his ears. I shook my head “No,” but he came back with a bowl of stew for me anyway. “Eat up,” he said, as he handed it to me. I had one spoonful and stifled a gag. Pushing beer cans out of the way, I laid my bowl on the coffee table.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t argue. Uncle Rob smiled.

“No problem, buddy,” he said. “I’ll just grab you a can of soda.” My mom never let me have soda, so I wasn’t going to turn him down. Uncle Rob came back with an opened can of orange soda with a thin, white straw sticking out the top. I felt the sugar running through my veins as soon as I took my first sip. It was magical. The more I drank, the weirder I felt. No wonder mom didn’t let me drink soda.

The phone rang and Uncle Rob went to the kitchen to get it. Being a nosy kid, I snuck into the hallway and listened from just outside the room.

“Yes, he’s drinking the soda,” Uncle Rob said into the phone. “Look, I’ll call you when he’s passed out.” A lump formed in my throat. I tiptoed down the hallway, heart racing, and slowly opened the door at the end. I closed it as quietly as I could and felt around the walls for a light switch. As I searched, my hands found a rail. I realized I was at the top of a staircase. I sat on the first step and shimmied down each stair until I reached the cold, concrete bottom. I stretched my arms up and flailed around until I felt a string. I gave it a pull and the entire basement was illuminated. A stack of wooden crates filled one corner and a white sheet covering a pile of what looked like sticks filled another.

The basement door opened and Uncle Rob’s voice came bellowing down the stairs.

“Kid?” he called. “Are you down here?” He began ambling down the stairs, so I hurried behind the stack of crates, trying to quiet my breathing. He lost his footing and stepped into the pile of sticks, dragging the sheet with him as he came away. Except they weren’t sticks at all. They were bones.

I started to feel woozy and must have blacked out because all I remember is waking up to my Uncle Rob dragging me by the legs into an unfamiliar room. It was damp and cold, and the walls were made of bluish grey cement. A bright light shone in my eyes, completely blinding me. I heard Uncle Rob having a conversation behind me.

“I’ve only got one pot of stew left, Nancy,” Uncle Rob said. He was talking to my mother. “Don’t you want the $10,000?”

“But do you have to do it while he’s alive?” she asked.

“Yes, Nance,” he replied. “That’s when the meat is the freshest.”

Abby

How am I going to survive two weeks with that woman? Abby thought to herself. Her plaid suitcase was open on her bed and she was throwing in balled-up T-shirts one by one. She knew Paul liked a neat suitcase.

Abby heard Paul open the front screen door so she decided she should pick up the pace. She began grabbing handfuls of T-shirts from the dishevelled pile of clothes on the floor. 

“Abs! Can you bring your suitcase to the porch? I don’t want to take my boots off!” Paul called from the front of the house. Of course, he doesn’t, Abby thought. He had purchased new hiking boots a week ago in preparation for the trip. He had barely taken them off since he bought them. Abby zipped her luggage closed and carried it to the porch where Paul was standing, shirtless. He looked great.

“Neatly-packed, I hope,” Paul nudged Abby with his elbow and flashed a grin.

“Yes, everything is very tidy,” Abby rolled her eyes. “Even the barf bags I packed for when your mother tries to poison me again.” Abby watched Paul’s expression change from jovial to hurt. She secretly wished she could take back what she had said. Nevertheless, she had too much pride to concede.

“Oh, Abs.” Paul sighed and carried Abby’s suitcase to the car.

The drive to King’s Point was about two-and-a-half hours. Abby sat in silence the entire trip while Paul devotedly sang along to the Van Morrison album he has had on repeat for years.

“Mom’s house is just at the end of this street,” Paul said eagerly.

“Yes, I remember,” Abby replied under her breath. I’ve been trying to forget, she thought.

As they pulled up to the house, Abby arched an eyebrow at Paul’s mother who was sitting on the doorstep in a checkered nightgown and fuzzy, periwinkle slippers.

“Finally!” Abby watched Paul’s mother hop off her step and scamper down the driveway with her arms outstretched. Abby got out of the car and leaned against it while Paul’s mother embraced her son.

“Abby, nice to see you,” Paul’s mother said. Abby noticed her tone had completely changed. Abby flashed her a smile and began walking up the drive to the house.

“I’ve got some chili on the stove,” Paul’s mother announced. “It should be ready in just a few minutes.”

How the hell am I going to get out of eating that? Abby wondered to herself. I’m not missing any countryside hikes. She took her shoes off in the porch and sat at the kitchen table. It was a dark mahogany table with the leaf taken out. It looked like it belonged in a dining room, not a dinky little kitchen like this one.

“Would you like a teaspoon or a soup spoon for your chili?” Paul’s mother turned around from the stove to face Abby.

“Actually, I’m not hungry,” Abby replied, trying to sound convincing.

“Nonsense!” Paul’s mother exclaimed. “You kids have been driving for almost three hours.” Abby could hear Paul walking up the front steps.

“Let’s worry about unpacking later, Abs,” Paul set two suitcases on the kitchen floor. “I’m anxious to get out for a hike before it gets dark.” Abby’s ears perked up.

“Great, well let’s go now then while it’s still warm.” Abby stood up from the kitchen table.

“I’m not letting you two hike on an empty stomach,” Paul’s mother called over her shoulder while she was stirring the chili.

“I’m really not that hungry.” Abby made a face at Paul expressing her annoyance.

“You know, mom, we were grazing on snacks for the entire drive.” Paul walked over to his mother standing at the stove and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned around with two full bowls of chili in her hands.

“Well, it’s taken up now. I can’t put it back in the pot,” Paul’s mother replied. She set the bowls of chili on the table, one in front of Abby and one at the spot directly across from her. Abby stared at the bowl of chili and felt a knot in her stomach. Paul’s mother went back to the stove and continued stirring her pot. There’s no way I’m eating this, Abby thought. Then she got an idea.

“Can you get me a spoon?” Abby asked Paul.

“You’ve got a spoon right next to your bowl,” Paul raised an eyebrow at Abby.

“Yes, but this is a soup spoon and I want a teaspoon.” Paul shrugged his shoulders and got up from the table. Abby switched the bowls of chili while both Paul and his mother’s backs were turned. Paul returned to the table and slid a spoon across the table to Abby.

Halfway through the meal, Paul got up from the table and darted for the bathroom. Abby walked to the bathroom and put her ear to the door. She heard Paul retching.

“I knew it!” Abby cried as she came back into the kitchen. “You crazy bitch, you’ve been making me sick on purpose!”

“Abby, listen,” Paul’s mother put her hands up in an act of surrender. “Paul’s ex-wife died from an accidental fall while she was hiking with Paul in King’s Point four years ago.”

“So?!” Abby was shouting. “That proves nothing, you psycho!”

“Wait.” Paul’s mother gestured for Abby to sit own. Abby obliged. “Paul had a childhood friend who went into the woods with him when they were kids and never came out.” Abby became confused. Paul’s mother continued. “Because he was a foster kid from an underprivileged family, the whole town concluded that the boy had just run away.”

Abby sat in silence, attempting to make sense of the information she just received. This bitch is nuts. She’s got to be lying, Abby convinced herself.

“I’ve been making you sick so you don’t end up alone in the woods with him.” Paul’s mother began to tremble.

“I’m not dealing with this,” Abby snapped. “You’re so full of shit.” She began walking away but Paul’s mother put her hands on Abby’s shoulders and halted her.

“Let me ask you one question,” Paul’s mother started. “Has he recently purchased new hiking boots?”

Abby heard the bathroom door open. Her heart pounded with each step Paul took toward the kitchen. His voice came from behind her.

“Hey sweetie,” Paul said. “You ready for that hike?”

Jack

Jack rolled over and hit the snooze button on his clock radio. His copy of The Flyer Saucers Are Real fell off his nightstand onto the floor. He groaned, pressing his face into his pillow. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in what felt like months. He decided to forego his morning shower for an extra fifteen minutes of sleep. Before he could get back to sleep, he heard Shauna coming up the stairs.

“Jack, it’s after six,” she called into the bedroom as she walked past. Jack and Shauna had been out-of-sync for the past couple of weeks. After a fight last month, Shauna spent two weeks at her parents’ house and had returned as someone Jack didn’t recognize.

“Be up in a few,” Jack mumbled into his pillow. When his alarm went off again, Jack hopped out of bed and hauled on a pair of pajama pants. As he hauled on a T-shirt, he decided he’d call in sick to work. He couldn’t work on three hours of sleep. He ambled down the stairs into the kitchen and saw Bear patiently waiting by the front door.

“Has he been out this morning?” Jack asked, brushing his dark brown hair out of his face. Shauna was facing away from Jack, loading two pieces of whole wheat bread into the toaster. She shook her head “No” without turning around, her short, auburn curls bouncing as she did.

“Come on, boy,” Jack said as he opened the door for Bear. He felt the sun warm his cheeks. Bear hurried down the patio into the front yard to do his business. Breathing in the fresh air, Jack stepped out onto the patio and stared up at the sky, looking for signs of alien life. It had become a habit of Jack’s after watching a Bob Lazar documentary on Netflix.

“Ow, shit!” Shauna yelped from the kitchen. Jack ran back into the house to Shauna clutching a balled-up dishtowel in her left hand.

“What happened?” Jack asked, reaching for Shauna’s hand. She stepped backward, holding her hand close to her chest.

“I was trying to pit the avocado and I got myself with the knife,” Shauna said, clutching the white dishtowel. Jack took a small step toward her.

“Here, let me see,” Jack said.

“No,” Shauna snapped. Jack took a step backward and put his hands up to signal he wouldn’t try anything. “I’m sorry,” Shauna said, changing her tone. “I just don’t want blood everywhere.”

“Love, please come to the bathroom,” Jack sighed. “I’ll fix you up, I promise.” He offered a smile. Shauna met his gaze.

“Alright, fine,” she replied, reluctantly following him down the hall to the bathroom. Jack put the toilet cover down and motioned for Shauna to take a seat. He grabbed the peroxide from the medicine cabinet and unscrewed the cap.

“Okay,” Jack said, holding out his hand. “Let me see.” Shauna clutched the towel, but eventually loosened her grip and turned her head away. Jack took the dishtowel from Shauna’s hand and immediately fell silent.

“Is it really bad?” Shauna asked, sensing the tension. She turned her head back around. Jack was staring into her hand, mouth agape.

“What the hell?” Jack stammered. His face grew hot.

“What’s wrong?” Shauna asked, looking down at her hand.

“What is this?” Jack asked, pushing Shauna’s hand into her face. “Who are you?” He began squeezing Shauna’s hand.

“Jack, you’re hurting me,” Shauna whimpered. “What is wrong with you?” She’d never seen that look in Jack’s eyes before. She snatched her hand out of Jack’s and grabbed the dishtowel off the floor. As she raced down the hallway toward the kitchen, she heard Jack’s footsteps behind her.

“No wonder you’ve been acting weird,” Jack snapped. He grabbed Shauna’s shoulders from behind, forcing her to turn around. “Where’s my God damn wife?” He shook Shauna so hard her head seemed like it would roll right off her shoulders.

“Stop,” Shauna shrieked. “You’re scaring me.”

“Shut up,” Jack said as he threw Shauna hard against the kitchen counter. Her head caught the corner and split open like a coconut. Her twitching body fell to the floor. The same green sludge that covered her hand was now leaking from her cracked skull.

Exhausted, Jack poured himself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table. He stared at Shauna’s lifeless body, a green puddle forming a halo around her head.

“You think I wouldn’t find out?” Jack asked the corpse, lighting a cigarette. “Extraterrestrial scum.” He spit at the body then leaned back in his chair, letting out a satisfied sigh.

A moment later, the phone rang. Jack answered it.

“Yes, hello. This is Darla from Dr. Samabala’s office,” said the voice on the other end. “I’m looking to speak with Jack Turpin.”

“This is he,” Jack replied.

“Great,” Darla said. “I’d just like to confirm your mailing address so that we can send you a hard copy of your diagnosis.”

“Alright,” Jack said. He was barely listening. “What diagnosis is this?”

“Well,” said Darla. “For your total colour blindness, sir.

Charlie

Charlie awoke in the middle of the night to his newborn baby crying. He let out a groan and rolled over on his side to check the time. The clock radio read 3:13 AM. He turned back around to see if the noise had woken Jane. Thankfully, she was sound asleep, her mouth open just enough for Charlie to catch the glint of her teeth. Jane’s skin was like porcelain and her lips were a pale pink.  Charlie had always thought she was hauntingly beautiful.

Charlie gently slid his legs off the bed then slowly stood up, careful not to wake Jane. She had gone through so much during the pregnancy that he wanted her to sleep as much as she needed. Charlie grabbed a plain T-shirt from the top of the dirty clothes hamper and slipped on his plaid slippers. He tugged at his boxers, unbunching the fabric from around his crotch, then grabbed his special diaper bag and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly. During her first trimester, Jane had made Charlie his own bag with everything he’d need to change a diaper. Charlie felt better about daunting tasks when he was over-prepared, and Jane was happy to humour him.

As Charlie walked down the hall to Baby Aidan, the crying got louder. Charlie got to the end of the hall and opened the door. He walked over to his crying son and picked him up, rocking him back and forth in his arms.

“What’s wrong, little buddy?” Charlie whispered. “Are you hungry?” He was a brand new dad, so he had no idea how to tell what Aidan wanted. Jane had only given birth two weeks ago; they were still figuring all of this out. A strong smell began creeping up Charlie’s nose. He winced. “I guess you need a change, little guy,” Charlie said, laying Aidan back down. He walked himself through the process aloud.

“Remove dirty diaper, wrap in plastic bag, wipe bottom thoroughly, apply talcum powder, put on fresh diaper.” When Baby Aidan was changed, Charlie picked him up and rocked him in his arms for a few minutes before putting him back down to rest. Charlie crept back up the hallway and into his bedroom, quietly closing the door. He crawled into bed next to Jane and gave her a kiss on the cheek before closing his eyes and drifting off.

The next night, a crying Aidan got Charlie out of bed once again. Making sure Jane was asleep, Charlie grabbed his diaper bag and headed down the hall. He caught a strong smell off Aidan again, so he changed his diaper, walking himself through the steps like always. He picked Aidan back up and let him drift off in his arms, staring into his face with adoration. After what felt like hours, Charlie put Aidan back down and retired to his bedroom. He got back into bed and kissed Jane on the cheek.

“Where were you?” Jane whispered.

“Shh,” Charlie said. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” Jane put her hand on Charlie’s chest then fell back to sleep almost immediately. Charlie stared at her for a few moments, completely smitten.

The third night, Charlie woke to Aidan’s crying again. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, Charlie resolved to buy more absorbent diapers in the morning. The kind that makes babies sleep through the night. Don’t be mistaken, Charlie was more than happy to take the night shift so Jane didn’t have to, but he was beginning to lose too much sleep. He grabbed the diaper bag and crept out of the bedroom. When he got to Aidan, Charlie changed his diaper then picked him up and rocked him back and forth. Charlie was staring into Aidan’s sleeping face when he heard Jane’s voice behind him.

“What are you doing?” Jane asked, shivering. She tightened the ribbon on her bathrobe and crossed her arms tightly for warmth. She was standing in the doorway of the house, calling to Charlie in the back yard. Charlie turned around to meet Jane’s gaze and her mouth fell open. Charlie was covered in dirt; his shaggy, brown hair blowing in the wind. In his arms was the stillborn baby that he and Jane had buried two weeks ago.

Kim

                Driving home from work, Kim’s eyelids felt heavy. She was grateful to be only a few blocks away from her apartment. She had been working long hours and her sleep schedule was suffering because of it. She rounded the last corner toward her building and was met with two wooden tripod barricades blocking her way. She pulled up behind the roadblock, got out of the car, and joined the growing crowd of bystanders on the sidewalk.  

From what Kim could tell, a car had collided with a tree on the opposite side of the road. The tree had cracked in half from the impact and looked like it was bending over at the waist. The other end of the street was blocked off by two police cars that were parked nose to nose. Police tape was tied to several trees surrounding the wreck. Two officers — one male, one female — were pacing in front of the wreck in silence, stopping every so often to say no more than a few words to each other. The male officer had a brunette buzz cut and a slight beer belly, and the female officer had shiny, mahogany hair that she had twisted into a low bun. Her uniform hugged her curves like it was made for her body. Kim realized how disheveled she looked having just come off a twelve-hour shift and felt self-conscious.
Turning her attention back to the wreck, Kim zipped her purple winter jacket up to her chin. A few strands of her strawberry-blond hair got caught in the zipper, but she didn’t notice. The condition of the car made it clear to Kim that whomever was in that car had to be dead.  The thought of standing just fifteen feet from a dead body made Kim’s heart race. She had spent hours browsing morbid forums on Reddit, reading up on missing persons and unresolved murders.  That stuff excited Kim to no end, and she wanted to get closer to that dead body. Almost reading Kim’s mind, the horde of onlookers began moving forward. The female officer noticed the shuffling crowd and walked toward it, arms outstretched at her sides.

                “Folks, please keep a respectful distance,” she shouted. Her hair caught light from the sun and shone a beautiful crimson.

                Unsatisfied with the view she had, Kim wanted to find a new vantage point. She changed positions so that she was standing on the side of the crowd furthest from the police cars. Toying with her nose ring, Kim wondered what could have caused the crash. She bet it was texting and driving. It was common in her town, even among adults. Kim was thankful her parents had instilled safe driving practices in her sister and her when they were teenagers. As a thirty-something, she’d never text and drive now. The wind picked up, blowing Kim’s strawberry-blond waves into her face. She took an elastic band from her wrist and tied her hair into a sloppy ponytail.

                Suddenly, a speeding vehicle flew around the street corner and came to a screeching halt behind the blockade of cop cars. Kim couldn’t see much from where she was standing, but she heard a woman get out of the car and begin shrieking like a wild animal. The shrill screams gave Kim goosebumps. The two officers raced toward the woman and tried to calm her down. Kim assumed she was a family member of the driver. The officers began escorting the hysterical woman toward the wreck. By the time they came into view, they were back on to Kim. Bundled in a black winter coat, hood and all, the woman inched toward the car flanked by two officers. When she got to the driver’s side window, the woman fell to her knees. She began screaming like an animal again. Kim’s heart raced as the sound stung her ears. The woman finally calmed down enough to speak.

“That’s my daughter,” the woman said. Kim’s heart dropped into her feet. She immediately recognized the voice. It was her mother’s.

                Kim’s blood ran cold as she realized her sister must be in that car. With the taste of bile in her throat, Kim raced toward her mother. When she got to the car she stopped dead in her tracks. The windows of the car had been busted out allowing Kim to see right into the vehicle. She studied the driver. Purple winter jacket. Strawberry-blond hair. Silver nose ring.

                A blaring horn startled Kim awake. That was the fifth nightmare she’d had that week and they were getting worse. This one was so bad that her sleep-laden eyes didn’t adjust in time to notice her car heading straight for a tree.