Life just hasn’t been the same since that night.
I’ve tried as much as I can to forget about what happened, but the indelible scar remained fixated in the back of my mind. Locking my doors and windows was never a concern of mine before, but now it’s a requirement unless you want to end up like them. Sometimes, I look through the windows on bored nights and see her face peering through the reflection of the puddles outside.
Besides that, my life really isn’t much. Wake up, get ready for work, eat breakfast, drive to work, and do that until around 10:00PM. This is my schedule outside of the less-than-often lunch with a friend. It’s not much, but it works and I enjoy not having to do much.
The oddest thing happened Monday around 7; a man who I’ve never seen in my life came in with a cordial, unfamiliar gleam about him. He strutted in casual clothes, slightly worn-out blue jeans, and a gray t-shirt emblemed with a fish and what appears to be a shop name. It wasn’t much of my concern, but what he did ruined everything.
As he approached the counter, I uprighted myself. “Coffee? This late?” I approached with a forced smile. “Haven’t been sleeping much since bloodworth,” he responded.
The memories washed over my mind like a sea of trauma. The screams of that family as she tore them limb from limb, the noises it let out as it left a murky, intangibly dark puddle in its wake. Even the small crowd looked on in terror as the family screamed, but like myself, we were all petrified with its terrifying presence that we could do nothing but watch. As police swarmed in only to find nothing but the void calling their names and what looked like a bloodbath, its whispers leeched into those near the now desecrated home. I could only see so much from across the street through the open door, but it looks like that poor man, the father, was…
…
It took me a moment to recollect my thoughts: “Oh, yeah, it’s been crazy. Sometimes I get up in the middle of the night and check the locks,” I replied as I rang up his coffee. “$2.13.” He handed me his card, I finished the sale.
“Aren’t you afraid he might break in through the windows?” he asked. He? I wasn’t sure if he was messing with me, especially over something so horrible. “Don’t you mean she?” “Sorry, I meant… ‘she’.”
“You don’t know what the Bloodworth incident is, do you?” I asked. I thought to myself what would happen if someone were to tell him, what would happen again. He responded with an elongated “No…”, I have had enough of this. I shut him down with ““You sure as hell better not let anyone know” and subtly gestured towards the door. He speed walked outside and I watched as he got in his car and drove off.
If he ever sees the images of what happened, or someone shows him, chances are our town will never recover.