Mrs. Carter has always been a kind lady, well known and liked in the small town I live in. Her and her husband could usually be seen sitting together on the porch of their two story home. The perfect couple, neighbors would say. They had been married for over twenty years, now in their late thirties. They loved each other more than anything in the whole world, spending every moment of the day together. There were rumors of them having a kid at one point, which were quickly dismissed due to the fact that only her and her husband could ever be seen around and inside their house.
You could say I was a friend of the couple. When I moved into the neighbourhood, they were the first to welcome me. I became aquainted with them rather quickly, and they would invite me to barbeques and dinners they hosted. I became friends, you could say, with several others in the neighbourhood after meeting them at the Carter’s functions. It was as if the entire neighbourhood was drawn to them, their kind smiles and the amazing burgers Mr. Carter made. I felt the same way, feeling extremely comfortable in the neighbourhood due to the presence of the Carters. It was as if they brought the community together.
Residents came and went, new people moving in and out over the years. The Carters would greet them first, as if it was a tradition. You couldn’t find a single person who had a grudge against them, they were amazing, kindhearted people. That’s when people started going missing.
The first person to disappear was the old man at the end of the cul de sac. Mr. Hendrick was the kind of grumpy old guy to take kid’s toys if they landed onto his property and scare kids away. Then one day he wasn’t outside. The neighbourhood kids would fall off their bikes into his yard and there wouldn’t be any squeals or warning shots fired. Police searched the house and declared him missing after finding no trace of him or his disappearance. It was forgotten after a month.
The next person to disappear was the daughter of my next door neighbors. She never returned home from school. The last person to see her was her teacher, who said her father had picked her up early. Her dad was at work at the time the teacher said and had an allibi. Security footage showed the kid being led to a car by a man wearing a baseball cap to cover his face. The car in the footage drove off casually, taking the little girl with him. This is when people began to worry. Especially when Mr. Carter had left his house fifteen minutes before the girl went missing, and never returned. Mr. Carter was declared a fugitive the next morning, and had a warrant out for his arrest.
Mrs. Carter was in distraught, and barricaded herself in her house for a week. She refused to come out for any reason, even when the police came to check she was still alive. No one knew what to do. Everyone felt bad for Mrs. Carter, especially me, being as I was close to her. She would still text me sometimes, asking if anyone had seen her husband. It wasn’t any more than two weeks before police got a tip about child abuse and a murder in the Carter household. Police searched the house, finding the bruised, decaying body of Mrs. Carters two children. The children had never been allowed to go outside or even leave the basement. Their teeth were rotten, stained yellow with several cavities. Their bodies were covered in scars, burns, and bruises. They were subjected to years of abuse.
Mrs. Carter confessed rather quickly. She had been on medications for mental illness for years, which allowed her to remain calm and function normally. She was abusive to her children and husband, berating and hurting them rather frequently behind closed doors. Then she discovered her husband had cheated, something no one expected. She had gotten into drugs and stopped taking her medications. The combination of her illnesses and the drugs made her snap. She beat her children rather brutally and her husband left, not knowing what to do. On his way to the police station he crashed into a tree. Two sets of footprints were found going into the forest next to the road. She had beaten her children to death, believing them to be demons who took the missing people. They found no trace of Mr. Carter. The case closed after a month because of her confession.
The community was never the same after that. That’s all I have to say about that matter, honestly. But I couldn’t care less about his disappearance or her death, which was declared a suicide. After all, he was a cheater and he bumped into my car. She was an abusive wife and mother. I guess that after he grazed my car I overreacted. But I’m not that bad, you know. After he finished his final words begging me to spare him before she killed the kids, I knew I had to step in somehow. I made a tip to the police and went home.
I’m burying them next to the others right now. It’s almost four in the morning, so I’ll make this quick. If you live in my community or heard about poor Mrs. Carson’s missing husband and her spiral into drug abuse leading to her suicide? Don’t feel bad for her. She had it coming.