Here is the link to John’s post:
Here is the link to my first update:
Please see and read the above posts for the context of this update. If you’re here after reading the previous two posts, thank you for taking the time to read this. I’ll continue this update from where I left off in Update #1
Much like the previous few days, I didn’t hear from him the next morning, and the silence remained far into the evening again. There wasn’t much of a fear in his voice this time, but there was a certain kind of sadness. It sounded like a part of him which hoped for normalcy to return had finally died, resigned to the fact that he was slowly losing his family to whatever creature was pretending to be Tux.
He had apparently woken up sometime around 10; despite how eager she was to be on her way to their parents, Lizzy knew her brother hadn’t gotten any quality sleep the last few days. Once all three had breakfast, the two siblings left to confront something they were sure was nothing short of evil.
It was a quiet ride to the house, apparently, Nothing was exchanged between the two until they arrived at the neighborhood, at which John broke the silence to tell his sister not to interact with the cats, especially Tux. She told him she knew, but he made her promise not to indulge or even acknowledge the old family pet. He also warned her that any attempt to point out the animal had been dead for over a decade would be met with hostility or even potentially violence. Both agreed not to bring up Tux’s passing before parking in the driveway.
Still, the door remained slightly ajar, left open from John’s escape the day prior. When they peered through, it was as if nothing had changed since he had left. Both the mother and father had remained seated in their exact same positions, gazes fixed directly on the door- directly where Lizzy and John were. Between them, Tux still remained vigilant, ever whispering something in a vile mockery of its previous speaker.
Upon entering, the mother erupted in a screech that almost seemed loving.
“Lizzy!” Said the woman, repeatedly. The same inflection; the same volume; the same cadence.
“Hi, mom.” Said John’s sister, worried. “I’ve heard things have been a bit strange lately. Is everything okay?”
“Just fine,” was the reply, “Just fine, just fine!”
Lizzy turned to her father, repeating the same thing to him.
“Just peachy,” said the man, eerily similar to his wife, “Just peachy! It’s going to be a great day!”
Arriving at the opposite end of the couch once more, John finally picked up on Tux’s new whisper- this one, an odd affirmation from the previous day. “Sweet kitty” made its echoing bound through the open-space living room, audible in part because of the awkward silence.
There was a comfort in not facing this alone, John reported, which gave him more of a chance to observe the current state of the house, his parents included. Both looked thin and frail, and he was sure they hadn’t slept all night. It looked as if they hadn’t eaten, either. Both were strict about their diet and eating schedule, and neither would let anything prevent them from meeting their carefully planned meals. Cabinets in the kitchen were smashed in, and a brown-crusted steak knife laid on the floor near the granite island, which seemed stained with a similar coating.
The Kitchen table was moved in front of the back door, as if to prevent something from getting in. The blinds were all shut, something which John’s parents never let happen during the day. It was a bizarre opposition to how the house normally went about, it’s clean and open atmosphere replaced by something that threatened to suffocate John the longer he stayed.
“Where’s Molly?” He asked, before even realizing the question left his lips.
Lizzy looked around the couch, towards the master bedroom, and back towards the entryway. There wasn’t the familiar jingle of her collar; there were no loud yips and screeching barks; her little pants couldn’t be heard throughout the house. John hadn’t had the chance to take in the silence, but with Lizzy nearby to offer some form of safety, it finally clicked what was so unnerving about it.
The two siblings exchanged looks for a minute before John offered to check the parent’s bedroom. Lizzy agreed to keep an eye on their parents, who hadn’t seemed to react to the interaction in the slightest. Passing by along the back end of the stairs, John caught sight of his cats. Pepsi and Cali both stared down at him from the second story, and he swears that something in their eyes recognized him. However, nothing was getting him near those animals.
Checking in the master bedroom, no sign of Molly could be found. Faint speckles of blood could be seen staining the tan carpet- but nothing to show for the dog. Returning back out to the living room, Lizzy reported that everything was calm and nothing had really changed since he had left. Glancing around the offices and kitchen area, John found nothing of the dog downstairs.
However, a small gate was usually placed at the bottom of the steps to the stairs, in order to keep Molly from getting upstairs and messing with the cats. It had been forcibly removed, broken apart and placed along the back wall of the stairs. Even if it wasn’t placed there, the small dog wouldn’t venture to the second story if no one else was there. Seeing as she was nowhere else, though, John let his sister know he was going upstairs, and to run if his parents moved. After Lizzy said she would be safe, he started his ascent.
Arriving at the top, he checked every room except the office carefully- a guest room, the adjacent bathroom, the upstairs game room, his own bedroom and closet. Nothing; no dog, and no cats. With nowhere else to go, John called down to his sister to tell her where he was going. He didn’t wait for a reply.
The door to the office was shut, something it wasn’t when he had left the day prior. With a slight turn of the knob, he pushed the door open to both of his cats sitting along the edge of his desk. When he had entered, Pepsi had jumped down and rubbed herself along his leg, while Cali looked on at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to come pet her like he always had.
When I asked him what he did, he just said nothing; it hurt to talk about, and he didn’t want to pursue the topic further.
Ignoring the cats, he moved on to the closet and attic doors, both of which were also shut. Although the pungent odor was long gone, he was hesitant to enter the attic for fear of what had been there before. Although both Pepsi and Cali sat behind him, meowing, he didn’t have the strength to look at their empty, broken bodies again.
But, if Molly was behind that door somehow, he had to save her. She had been a faithful dog to the family for over a decade; he wouldn’t abandon her so easily. So, with much apprehension, he unwillingly pushed the attic to the sight of nothing.
He was confused. Where were the cats? What happened to the bodies? If Molly wasn’t here, where was she? Had she escaped through the front door? What the hell was happening?
Shutting both doors, he moved back into the office, briefly facing both of his cats. John noticed the bathroom was closed on the end of the Jack-And-Jill. At this point, he was faced with a decision to either lock them in, or leave the door open. The corpses were still a fresh sight in his mind, along with the changes and alterations it brought to his family. John was in no rush to let whatever created the monstrosities downstairs run rampant.
As both cats stood by his feet, though, memories of when he brought the two home surged through his head. He had loved these cats since day one, sleeping on the floor with them at night to just get some extra time together. I don’t exactly blame him for making the choice that he did; I don’t know that I could abandon Bezos, myself. Ultimately, to what he admits was against his better judgment, he left the door cracked and left without saying a word to the cats.
With still no sight of Molly, John decided it was time to go back downstairs. He had only been there for a few minutes but felt it was far too long to leave his sister alone. Though he hadn’t heard any conflict or confrontations, something about the situation didn’t sit right. Once back to the hallway leading into the upstairs game room, he called down to Lizzy to let her know of his descent.
But, Lizzy didn’t respond.
John said he had rushed down the stairs at this point, turning the corner at the bottom to take in the view of the living room. Where Lizzy had once been standing was an empty spot. John scanned to the kitchen, the dining area, behind him along the main hallway- anywhere except the living room couch. When she wasn’t in any of those spots, he let his focus turn to the old piece of furniture, with three members of his family now sat, Tux still in the middle on his father’s lap. Lizzy now sat to the right of him, face mimicking the unnatural, concerning feature plastered on the parents’.
A small noise came from that godforsaken cat still, a whisper that sounded like neither John nor his mother. He hated to admit it, but it was a whimper from Lizzy, stuck on loop: “Please don’t.”
He said he wasn’t sure what to feel by this point. Little mixes of anger and sadness and guilt swam in his head, equalling up to a reserved kind of grief. It had started with his cats, and now his family. By now, the last shred of hope he could muster was that Molly had escaped through the open door, but he knows that probably isn’t the case.
Like the day before, he left. This time, he walked away, back turned and slow. Slumping his way back to his sister’s car, he drove it out of the neighborhood and back to his brother-in-law, where he broke the news of everything that had happened. Roger was, understandably, upset, but told John it wasn’t his fault. They both grieved in silence for a little before ordering a pizza. John, Lizzy, and Roger would hang out occasionally and often ordered something from a local pizza joint when they did. He said it seemed fitting.
Over dinner, they discussed plans. Checking on locations, they saw that John’s parents and Lizzy were still at home. Or, at least, probably- they figured whatever these things were, they held true to the actions most often performed by the victim. And, let’s be honest, who doesn’t keep their phone on them all the time anymore?
Roger said he would go to pick up Lizzy the next morning, but wasn’t sure what he would do after that. Maybe check her into a mental health hospital until they could find some explanation for what was happening. John voiced his hesitancy and asked Roger not to go, but that was his wife more than it was John’s sister. Eventually, he relented with the promise Roger would call the police the minute things went sideways.
As for John, he decided to head up here for a bit. He figured it would be safer the further he was from his family, to which I asked why he didn’t just go to Dallas. His reasoning was he wanted to be close enough to return home quickly if there was a development. When he had called me, he had just left Roger’s and was already en route. He asked, after explaining everything that had happened, if he could have some time to listen to music on the way up here, to which I obviously said yes. Even now, I don’t quite think I could understand the hell he’d been through.
When he arrived later that night, it was about 9:30. Exhausted, he passed out on the couch and stayed asleep until well into the late hours of the morning. I had taken off his shoes and put a blanket on him, which he expressed gratitude for when he woke up. Coming up here, he brought nothing; No extra clothes, or food, or hygiene products. He didn’t even have a charger, so I let him use mine since his phone had died in the night.
When it clicked back on, it showed he had one missed call from Roger. It was only from about 30 minutes ago, and an added voicemail assured him that Roger was leaving for John’s parents to check on him. After listening to the voicemail, John called him to let him know he had arrived and was safe, and wished him luck.
John and I exchanged a few words awkwardly before deciding to get eat at a local 24/7 diner. I figured the food would do him good, and he particularly likes the one I suggested. After a short drive and sitting down, John got a text from his brother-in-law saying he had arrived and would update him later on how it goes. The two messaged back and forth on a gaming communication app called Discord, since they mostly just talked about playing games and setting up plans.
About 5 minutes later, John’d phone buzzed and a ringtone familiar to anyone who’s used the app could be heard for a moment. It’s a small, electronic motif that arpeggios with a hint of anxiety. Before he could answer, though, the call ended. It was from Roger, which unsettled John greatly. He texted him and asked if everything was okay, but received no response. Checking Lizzy and Roger’s location, though, it showed them moving away from his parent’s house and back towards their own. This helped calm John down a bit to where he seemingly could enjoy the laid back atmosphere of the diner a bit.
Our food eventually came and we ate- Well, mostly John. He’s a quick eater, but I’ve never seen him eat quite that fast before. He only had a few slices of pizza and a waffle the day prior, so it was no wonder he was scarfing it all down. I’m sure the distance also helped him feel like he could let down his guard.
That was, until he had received a second call from Roger right after the waitress had taken his card. This time, it was a video chat request. It had been about forty minutes, which was plenty of time for the two to get back to their home. John quickly answered it to check in on his sister, hopeful and ready for some good news.
When he answered, he was surprised that the screen was entirely black. It was like something was covering the camera, with little glimpses and flashes of light and muffled noises in the background. Immediately, John went stiff. It was obvious something was wrong, but we couldn’t tell what yet.
Then, something came into view. The camera had shifted a bit to where some light was coming in, and blurred images of black had cleared enough to make out mounds of fur tainted by blots of blood. As the phone shakily moved back further, the sights of two mangled corpses not unlike that of the Pepsi and Cali came into view. Roger and Izzy’s two dogs were dead.
Everything about the sight was nothing short of gruesome. The legs were bent in the wrong ways, splattered or ending in pools of blood. The stomachs were split; the tails were torn off; the heads were bashed in. I nearly lost my breakfast just looking at it, but John just sat still, frozen. Two more animals he had known and loved were mauled, and he was no closer to figuring out how.
A droning screech slowly became audible as the phone shakily rushed across the house towards the garage door, Lizzy’s voice barely recognizable. Roger whispered something from behind the camera but it was drowned out by the screaming. She was pounding on the door, and she was pounding hard. Much harder than John thought could be possible. It took a second for the audio to become clear, but it soon became concise enough for the whole restaurant to hear.
“Bad dog.”
She just yelled “bad dog” over and over and over again. It wasn’t a fearful thing, or a reprimand. She wasn’t telling the dogs they had done something wrong, as was the familiar phrase’s usual context. No, this was hatred. It was malice. It slowly became clear what had happened to the dogs, and what had probably happened to Molly. I saw the realization hit John like a brick wall. It was almost as heartbreaking as it was horrifying.
Roger moved away from the door and back to where the dogs were. Now that he was a distance away, I could hear him sobbing and panting- obviously, it was a struggle to get his wife into the garage and away from the animals, even if it was too late. John and I had to assume she had turned completely violent to the point even Roger wasn’t safe anymore.
John asked him what was happening but all he did was turn the camera back around to him. With tears in his eyes, Roger set the phone down along the back of his couch and sat next to the two dogs. Galla and Sushi were their names, I think. I had met Galla before but they had only recently gotten Sushi, who he had then begun to cradle. With a sniffle, he told us she was still breathing, but barely.
John pleaded with him to take her to a clinic or a nearby vet, but Roger just shook his head while holding the puppy in his arms. Both of them knew it was two late to do anything for the dog, and the crying man told us he just wanted to spend their last minutes together comforting her.
Through a few more sobs, Roger let us know he had contacted the police and they were on the way. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do next, but he would stay with Sushi until she stopped breathing. There wasn’t much John or I could say at that moment but we both offered our condolences and told him he was more than welcome to stay up here with us. We had hoped he would’ve considered it, but Roger just shook his head again and said he’d stay down there.
John nodded, respecting his decision, and I assured him again he could reach out if he needed anything. Through small sobs, the crying man quietly thanked us and said he believed the police were almost there. As he pet Sushi, Roger told us to be safe and John pleaded with him to do the same. And, with that, the two said goodbye and moved to hang up their calls. Roger, hesitating, told John he was right before letting his finger rest on the hang up button.
Before the call switched off, though, John and I both heard what sounded like a deep impact and the sound of wood tearing apart. It was brief, almost completely shrouded by the sound the app makes when hanging up - but it was there. John looked at me, horrified, before trying to call back.
No answer. He tried again, and no answer. Three, four, five more times and nothing to show for it.
He was hysterical at this point. Up through all of this, he had at least remained somewhat calm. He hadn’t entirely panicked or acted rashly or even screamed. He had just seemed tired and ready to be through with it all- but now, he was raising his voice, begging Roger to answer. It was a sorry and almost scary sight to see. And, I’m ashamed to admit, I quickly became more concerned with how he was behaving publicly for everyone to see than what had just happened on the phone. I tried to give as many people around reassuring looks but decided we needed to move back into a private area.
Once the waitress collected our check and I made sure they were left a hefty tip, we went back to my apartment where John went to my room and finally broke down. In the entire time I’ve known him, he has never cried in front of me. I know of once or twice he’s done it, but this was the first time I’d seen it. He sobbed, and he wailed. He screamed and hit my pillows. I think the full severity of everything that had happened the last few days had finally fully hit him, and it hit him hard. It took a few hours before exhaustion took over him enough to calm down.
We had gotten a call by the end of the day from the police. Apparently, no one was found at Roger and Lizzy’s house, not even the dogs. The mess and gore left behind from the massacre was, but not the bodies. More than that, the police had originally gone to inform John’s parents, who also were missing. I mostly spoke, letting them know John was aware of the issues going on and was present, but not in the mood or, honestly, mental capacity to answer questions.
We were asked the usual - was there anything leading up to this? Was there anywhere they could’ve gone? Was there anything helpful said in the prior days that could help the investigation? I said no to all, with John nodding slowly as he listened. As we closed the conversation, John spoke up and asked the question on both of our minds:
“Did you find the tuxedo cat?”
The man who called us was confused, unsure what he meant. When asked to clarify further, John just said nevermind and turned away, laying back down on my bed. The officer seemed to drop it and told us to be safe, assuring us to call if something seemed even slightly wrong. I told him we would and hung up, going back to comforting John for a bit.
All of this happened over a month ago. Maybe even a month and a half. He hasn’t been doing well. He barely leaves my room, especially since the location service for his family’s phones went offline. He recently started eating more but that’s not really anything but maybe two meals a day. But hey, I guess that’s better than one or nothing, right?
I still go to work, and have been picking up more shifts to help offset costs. I don’t blame him for not wanting to leave, but it’s starting to get rough. Though I’m writing this on his behalf, a part of me wants suggestions or help if any of you have had a similar experience. And, if you had, are you able to return to normalcy? Is it over for you, and when will it be over and safe for John? I know neither of us can keep living like this but I just don’t know what to do.
Even Bezos has been acting weird lately. Starting about a week after John came up here, she started acting suspicious around the front door. I think the stress just started getting to her, as she’s always been really susceptible to that kind of stuff. She’d growl and watch through the window but I’d never see anything out there. It was really weird for a while but a couple days ago, around the time John started eating more, she stopped acting like this.
I think John coming down and maybe feeling more comfortable started to let her do the same. I’m just glad Bezos is acting friendly again. But, at the same time, something about this situation seems oddly familiar.