Jason and Linda Mills had finally had sex after one year of marriage and three years of a flawless relationship. Continued developments of fear and uncertainty were the generator of their abstinence until the delay was no longer desired. And of course, the polyurethane of the condom tore upon penetration and a seepage of fertilization developed.
But that was okay. They were not aware of the irritation and excruciation of which would emerge from the increasing womb and would not discover the hell and horror that it was until nine months after the conception.
Robert Mills was born on March 8, 2010
Robert (Bobby) Mills emerged slowly and painfully and the nurse referred to it as a beautiful baby boy, and Bobby’s parents could not have agreed more.
And then the hell and horror: crying and screaming and diapers of urine and excrement were apparent within every hour of every goddamned day. But whether it demanded attention with a screaming uvula of nonexistent and imaginary pain or clenched its gummed mouth upon Linda’s breasts and then vomited the personalized dairy product just minutes after consumption, Jason and Linda were happy.
They had started a family and were patient and forgiving with the hell and horror of Bobby; the adornment of the couple was finally capable of defining love and its persistence of a child.
Jason and Linda’s two-year anniversary was near and unforgotten; their relationship was pulsing with text from a romance novel and had intended to celebrate the annual occasion.
Cindy was Linda’s older sister—a bachelorette who had never found a gentleman as perfect as Jason, but she had a passion for children and Linda displayed no difficulty in trusting her. Cindy was jubilant as she accepted the offer of being Bobby’s babysitter.
“…and here’s a list of emergency numbers,” and Cindy identified a list of miscellaneous relatives pinned upon the refrigerator, “and the breast milk’s in the fridge; don’t forget to warm it up,” and then Cindy was redirected upstairs, “and this is Bobby’s room—there’s some of his toys over there and his crib’s over there and—” Linda was pointing in all directions of the nursery.
The nursery was painted yellow with large red polka dots—Jason had painted the room himself and was immensely satisfied with its result. A chest of stuffed animals resided in a corner and included plush and cuddly versions of animals including various characters from Sesame Street. But Bobby’s favorite was the original teddy bear—it lied motionless in the crib as if it was sleeping but possessed widened eyes of perfect glass spheres.
The excessive details of Bobby’s care and comfort had eventually concluded and Cindy consumed the knowledge with the coherence of her honored trust.
The hour hand had been extensively used as Jason and Linda enjoyed their anniversary. Cindy had followed every detail of Linda’s requests and precautions and had executed a flawless session of babysitting.
Bobby was currently residing in his crib—his eyelids had fallen over his glistening blue eyes and his relaxed mouth had drenched his extended thumb in saliva. And pressed upon his body, clutched by the neck with Bobby’s tightened arm, was his teddy bear…it was soft with cotton and fuzzy with fur and brown with an enriched chocolate texture amongst its plush surface. But of course, the teddy bear’s cuteness was incomparable to Bobby’s.
Linda’s cellphone rang—it was Bobby’s babysitter.
Oh my God!
“Is everything okay?” and then the panic began to erupt…“Cindy? Cindy!” but Linda could only hear her sister cry in pain, accompanied by a gurgling struggle and a splattering liquid…“Bobby!” and then the dial tone.
Jason and Linda’s anniversary celebration immediately seized with fear…regardless of their vehicle’s speedometer, their journey back home was long and everlasting as their thoughts were terrorized with agony of which is every parent’s nightmare…and finally, the house was reached and the front door was approached. Jason fumbled with his keys and Linda was biting her lip…and then the door opened.
Beyond the door were trails of blood streaming in all directions into the rest of house…it ran in rivers within the grooves of the wooden floorboards and appeared to have occupied the walls with splatters upon the recently photographed family portraits. The blood was clearly visible with sickening clarity of the red liquid as it spread across the entire ground floor while it stained the wood and soaked the carpet.
Jason and Linda’s eyes widened…their mouths were agape…and their hearts were jolting with disgusted fear. They slowly progressed through the house and noticed Cindy—she was in the kitchen with her body lying lifeless upon the tiled floor with the grout being thoroughly replaced by blood…Jason and Linda held onto each other for both comfort and stability—the floors had been lubricated with gallons of blood.
Jason turned her body over—his hands became coated with blood and the corpse’s repositioning revealed her guts and bones being extracted directly from her chest…her torso was seemingly nonexistent within all of the spilled blood…her ribs and spinal cord appeared to be mangled together into a demented sculpture of broken bones of which pierced the gored organs and torn flesh…Jason retreated from the mutilated cadaver and held his sobbing wife.
The refrigerator was smeared with blood of which drenched the list of emergency numbers…the doors were open and the coldness of the preserving chamber was released and revealed the bottles of expressed breast milk…the formula had been spilled within the dislodged shelves and dripped its milky white fluid into the pools of contrasting blood.
This required the authorities’ acknowledgement—the closest phone was within the deadened grasp of Cindy; it was covered in blood. Jason staggered across the kitchen and located an alternate phone of which remained hanging upon the wall. He dialed 911 and spoke to the operator with a trembling voice…Linda paid no attention to her husband’s side of the conversation—she remained standing within the blood and drained out the sound of reality as her vision could only focus on the absolute color of red.
And then Linda cried, “Bobby? Jesus, Bobby!” and her stiffened neck turned to face the staircase—each step resembled a waterfall of blood dripping from the upstairs damnation. Linda progressed upon each step with fear and caution with every movement and shift of balance creating a squish of the treads’ absorbed blood.
The handrail was untouched by Linda’s spasmodic hand—the beautifully carven railing of wood had also been dripping with blood…it flowed down the banister and clung in spirals upon the railing’s supports…the wall on the opposing side presented additional family portraits, all cracked and crooked and covered in blood.
Linda had finally reached the landing and was halfway to the nursery as she viewed the glass as half empty…could this haunted house of blood and gore have a happy ending? Linda loved her son more than anything…she refused to believe any terror of which may be present within their family…but within the dark and horrible depths of the back of her mind, she knew the logic and uncertainty and probability.
Linda continued to ascend upon the bloody staircase with each step developing into slower and more forceful movements within her quivering legs…her peripheral vision provided a glimpse of Bobby’s portrait—he lied innocently within the framing of broken glass and torn photograph. And finally, the final step of the staircase had been climbed with Linda’s fear almost eliminating her strength…and she stood directly in front of the nursery.
The floor and walls of the upstairs hallway had all been entirely drenched in blood…the blood was rich and revolting as it trailed in a single direction upon each wall—each trail of blood had ultimately led to the nursery.
Linda stepped forward and felt cold droplets of blood dampening her hair and scalp as more blood was dripping from the ceiling…she continued to approach the door of which seemed to be the common grounds for the entire volume of the spilled blood within the household…she extended her hand with a tensed arm of veins of which had been chilled with fear, and then she grasped the doorknob.
The doorknob was a golden brass but had been soaked in the blood and was only characterized by the color of red…the redness was smeared as Linda’s palm rotated the fixture and retracted the bolt mechanism and slowly opened the door to discover the fate of their beloved Bobby.
The yellow with large red polka dots had been converted into pure red with minor speckles of yellow…the blood was excessively expressed upon the walls of the nursery and its sour stench had been incomparable to the rest of the effected household…the blood had been reflectively illuminated as the full moon displayed its brightness through an open window.
Bobby’s chest of toys had been smashed and bloodied with the stuffed animals violently slashed and unrecognizable as the stuffing was strewn across the floor and being soaked in the blood. And Bobby’s crib…the wood had been snapped and splintered and the crib resembled a crude pile of broken wood of which was soaking in the blood.
And within the remnants of the crib—Bobby’s teddy bear. An eye had been ripped from the head and the body was victimized of multiple tears of severity as its stuffing had been thoroughly gutted with the cotton no longer being white as it was also soaked with blood…it lied motionless with death…its remaining glass eye stared at Linda with a notion of helplessness as if the children’s toy could actually feel its pain of brutal misusage.
Linda was an unfortunate witness of true hell and horror…the blood had given the nursery as well as the entire goddamned house a wet and thick coating of horrendous blood with its multiple layers dripping onto the floor to add to the rivers of blood…
Jason and Linda cried…they both collapsed into each other’s arms and soaked themselves in the blood as they cried…their vision was blurred and distorted and their throats were dry with an infinite amount of sobbing and screaming with attempts of comprehending the incident…but absolutely nothing could result in a product of sanity. The only thing that Jason and Linda were certain of was that Bobby was gone…
Bobby had been kidnapped.