The pitch black, starless night sky seemed to loom menacingly over the earth’s crust. It pressed heavily on the horizon line, completely enveloping the planet rather than co-existing with it. Whilst shrouded so effectively in conjunction with the thick vegetation on either side of the country road, animals were able to navigate freely without the fear of being hunted down by their diurnal predators. The occasional firefly was the only thing that could be seen beyond the dim headlights of Marcy’s ex-boyfriend’s rusty sedan.
“Can’t this piece of shit go any faster?!” Marcy barked at her former lover, speaking rhetorically yet still somehow expecting a resounding, ‘Yes, why of course, just allow me to activate the turbo boost.’
“Christ! Y’know I could smash into a tree if you want! I can’t see shit Marcy; I’m sorry I’m going as fast as I can,” said Jack, her ex-boyfriend, as he contorted his face, impressively looking wrinkly enough to compete with a raisin. His scrunched-up face in the dim, nearly nonexistent light caused him to look fifty years older.
“What part of emergency don’t you understand?!” She shouted pointlessly, crossing her arms and slumping back in her seat. Her leg bounced aggressively as she attempted to restrain herself, realizing she was powerless until they arrived at Steph’s house.
They sat in silence for the next ten or so minutes as Jack struggled to navigate. Frequently, the car would suddenly jump, making a loud popping sound near the trunk. It was impossible to know whether it was the result of hitting something or the car just being an old hunk of junk. Since neither of their seatbelts worked, each time it popped it threw both Marcy and Jack a few inches into the air like the car was tossing a meat salad. Neither of them was able to focus on the popping for very long when it happened. Jack would start to question it before needing to return his attention to the road and Marcy would only think about it for a moment before thoughts of her friend in peril filled her already worried skull. Eventually, Marcy began to recognize the street they were on, despite their surroundings being so poorly lit.
“There! That’s her driveway! It’s the mailbox with the wooden dove on it!” she shouted while punching Jack in the shoulder repeatedly, certain that would enhance his ability to drive. “I bet you listen to your new girlfriend when she gives you directions! You cum donating cheater fuck!” Miss Melodramatic Marcy was really going for the throat now.
Jack continued to stare forward, silent and uncomfortable as he struggled to turn the car onto the directed driveway while under attack from a flurry of a thousand unapologetic fists.
The car barely made it a few feet up the driveway before one final pop completely rocked the frame. There was a sickening, wet crunch beneath them as the rear end launched into the air, nearly flipping the whole vehicle. Marcy and Jack were thrown forward, smashing into the windshield just as the airbags deployed with a violent bang, slamming them back into their seats. Outside, the car’s rear wheels slammed back into the dirt. Silence enveloped the world for a moment, then the car let out a deep groan as if exhaling its last breath.
Marcy blinked through blurred vision as she felt hot blood begin to congeal around her nose. She groped blindly for something to hold on to, every instinct in her screaming to keep moving. Her fingers found the passenger-side door handle. She yanked. Nothing.
“The… the door’s stuck. Jack, Jack it’s stuck,” she slurred her words as she pulled a now bloody hand away from her forehead.
Jack placed a hand on her thigh before speaking with desperate sincerity, “Marce, just wait. I think I hit something… And you probably have a concussion. We wanted to get the cops over here anyway, right? Let’s just call them and wai-“
“Fuck Jack really?!” Marcy wasted no time cutting him off, tensing her thigh and tossing his hand aside like a hot coal had landed on her.
She threw her right arm over Jack, padding his pockets desperately for something. He sat petrified, unsure of how to prevent himself from being on the receiving end of her insatiable wrath. In her frantic search, she grazed his crotch a few times, causing him to make a face. Through blurred vision, she took notice, mistaking his face for one of pleasure and made sure to examine his crotch one last time with an inquisitive fist, just to assure that she had searched thoroughly everywhere. After a few pained groans from Jack, Marcy eventually found what she was looking for. She extracted a small switchblade from his left thigh pocket.
With her phone in one hand and the open switchblade in the other, she pressed the knife at an angle up against the passenger-side window and hammered the hilt of the blade as hard as she could with her smartphone. The first hit caused the glass to crack, and the second hit caused Jack to freak out, panicking over further damage to his already shitty, barely holding on via life support car. The third and final hit shattered the glass with explosive force, causing shards to rocket in all directions. A few had scraped up Marcy’s face and just enough shards landed in Jack’s lap to cause him to fear further damage to his testicles.
Marcy quickly turned to remove her seatbelt to no avail. “Is everything in this car broken?” She shouted before grabbing the largest shard of glass she could see, using it to cut into her seatbelt and her hand with equal force.
“Marce. Marce please, just wait!” Jack called out, watching in horror as she crawled out the passenger-side window like a woman possessed, further scratching her hands and knees without even noticing the pain.
As soon as she got to her feet, Marcy immediately began limping up the driveway towards Stephanie’s house, clutching her phone in one hand and the switchblade in the other. The light from her phone was about as effective as a match at the bottom of the ocean, making navigating up the rocky driveway extremely difficult.
“Marcy wait! Please just come back! You’re going to hurt yourself even more!” Jack pleaded, pulling at his own seatbelt now, putting a half-hearted effort forward in an attempt to catch up to her.
She of course, did not wait for him, eventually making her way to Steph’s porch after tripping numerous times.
With scraped knees and a bruised heart, Marcy pushed open the door, surprised to find it unlocked. The inside of the house was dimly lit by ceiling lights barely clinging to life, as if someone had connected the whole house to a dimmer. The front entrance was immediately greeted by a sleek, skinny staircase with a cracked glass banister. At first, the numerous water droplets blended in with the design of the cracked glass, alluding Marcy to continue searching for signs of where Steph might be. It didn’t take Marcy very long to notice the small puddle of water that had pooled at the bottom of the stairs. She took off up the stairs, splashing the glass banister with each step she took.
Upon reaching the top, Marcy was greeted by the dreadful sight of the bathroom door. The glowing cracks showed that the bathroom was the only properly lit room in the house, granting her a clear view of the water seeping out from underneath the door. She walked slower now, reaching timidly for the door handle.
Upon turning the knob, the door slowly creaked open, revealing exactly who Marcy was looking for. Stephanie was present, lounging peacefully in her family’s bathtub at the far end of the small bathroom. She lay her head on the tub, staring up at the ceiling with grey eyes and her mouth hanging open. She was wearing her favorite baby blue sundress, which clung to her wet collarbone and floated near her feet. The still-running tub fed a widening puddle, its water so saturated with blood that it was impossible to say where the water ended and the blood began. Large chunks of her once perfect braided blond hair were floating in the bloody water. Some looked cleanly removed, snipped and trimmed, while other clumps were attached to bloody roots, alluding to her haphazardly pulling out fistfuls at a time. Marcy sloshed slowly through the ankle-high water, silently examining the room while her heart beat so fast she worried it would pop, making her the second person to ever die in this bathroom.
On the wall to Marcy’s right, next to the bathroom mirror, a cluster of bathroom tiles were shattered and covered in blood. Marcy welcomed the distraction, stepping towards it inquisitively. The wall tiles had formed a crater, like something had been smashed into the wall over and over again. Something alive presumably, due to extreme amount of blood that surrounded the impact zone.
Suddenly, she heard Steph gurgle and shift, sloshing aggressively and splashing Marcy’s back with bloody water. Now frozen and too scared to look, Marcy stood facing the bloody tiles for a full minute before finally forcing herself to turn around. She was surprised to see Steph in the exact same spot. Still, slack jawed, and lifeless. Marcy reached a hand over her shoulder to check for water. Her back was wet yes, but could it just be sweat? Had she begun to imagine things? Trauma can have extraordinary effects on the brain.
Notably, Steph now seemed to be holding something in her right arm, which hung over the side of the tub. It was her phone. It was powered on, and its subtle blue light seemed to shine perfectly on Steph’s slit wrist, which was still bleeding profusely. Marcy took a step forward and was startled when her foot landed on a kitchen knife. She picked it up to examine it. The knife was clearly old, weathered by years of continuous use and lack of proper maintenance. It was dull, likely barely able to cut a tomato. If this was the knife she used, it would have been a long and extremely painful process, especially given the severity of her wounds.
Startling her yet again, the phone began to buzz causing Marcy to drop the knife and take a step back. She stared at the phone for a long time, waiting for it to stop on its own. It never did, in fact, it buzzed over and over again for so long that it wriggled it’s way free from Steph’s grip and dove straight into the bloody water below. When it continued to buzz despite it now being fully submerged, Marcy picked up and was shocked to see her text conversation she had with Steph only the night before.
Steph: Hey Mar Mar! So I really need to tell you something before I leave for the tournament tomorrow and… well… it might be a lot.
Marcy: I’m always here for you. Anything you watn to talk about I’m here to listen! I gotchu grlfriend!
*want LOL
Steph: Haha, funny choice of words actually. I uhh… there’s no beating around the bush with this is there? I’m just gonna say it
I love you.
Marcy: Uhh yeah duh I love you too girly. Did you think that was a secret?
Steph: No, you don’t understand. I LOVE you. Like love love. Like I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be able to kiss you and not feel weird about it. I want you to look at me like a partner and not just one of your buddies. I also understand and respect what you’re going through, I desperately want to be able to help you as much as I want you to be with me. I know you’re struggling right now, and this is kind of a lot, but I’m telling you I can be there for you. We’ll get through it together.
Marcy? Please answer me. You don’t have to feel the same just… I need to hear from you
Marcy?
Please
Suddenly the phone vibrated and shocked Marcy, causing her to drop it into the bloody depths below.
She made no effort to pick it back up; it was far too late to save it.
“Marce! Marce we gotta call the cops or something!” Jack’s voice cut through the deafening silence and brought Marcy back to reality, “I think I hit a deer or a giant raccoon or something! It was defiantly an animal I saw it breathing I’m pretty sure. And now what?! Do we have to put it out of its misery or someth-” Jack instantly froze upon reaching the top of the stairs. He began to shake slightly upon seeing Marcy in the bathroom, holding the old kitchen knife. She followed his gaze and was surprised to see the knife in her hand. She could have sworn that she dropped it only moments ago. Or maybe she only thought she had—her memory felt smudged, like someone had dragged a wet, bloody thumb across it.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that Jack-Ass. I just grabbed it as reflex and I’m sure you can understand why I’m a little on edge.
You startled me is all.”
Marcy made her best attempt to smile non-threateningly, however it starkly contrasted with her tone. The monotone insincerity of her last couple of words caused Jack to tense up, now fully engaged in fight or flight. When she dropped the knife, again, and turned back towards Steph, he regained his composure and walked cautiously into the bathroom. Ever so slowly, he sloshed next to Marcy and for a moment the two of them just stood there, staring at Steph’s lifeless body. It was haunting and also strangely elegant. Steph was the center of what felt like the only light source in the world right now, she looked like a fallen angel, staring longingly back up into heaven.
“We need to get her to a hospital.” Marcy said with unwavering determination.
“Marcy, I think she’s… y’know. I really think we should call the cops and wai-”
“Remember what I said? Help me lift her to the car. Now,” her tone shifted into something more sinister.
Jack felt his chest begin to tighten and he stumbled back a few steps. He tried to compose himself but struggled to get a hold of his breathing. Panicking now, he tried to grab onto anything nearby to help him up. Blindly clawing at the air, Jack’s hand landed firmly in Marcy’s intimidating grip. She towered over him now. She stared down at him, disappointed, like she had stumbled across a wounded animal with its leg caught in a bear trap.
“L-Look Marcy, my car’s busted anyways. How do you plan on getting there?”
She considered his words very carefully, feeling momentarily stumped in pursuit of her crusade. Jack stepped closer to her, now only inches from her face, “I’m desperate here. Let’s just wait for the cops, I already called them. They should be here soon.”
Marcy’s gaze drifted past Jack’s shoulder. On the bathroom sink, Steph’s keys sat in a graceful stack — each one aligned, teeth facing the same way, like they’d been arranged by someone with infinite patience. They glinted under the bathroom light, perfectly unsullied by the wet, sloppy disaster surrounding them.
Marcy brushed past Jack, snatching them up. “This,” she said, thrusting the keys into his face, “is how we get there. Now help me get her to the car.”
“Bu-” he wasn’t able to finish a single word in objection before Marcy’s cold, intimidating stare washed away any thoughts that would interfere with her passionate plan of action.
Jack cautiously obliged, helping Marcy gently lift Stephanie’s body out of the bathtub and down the stairs into the garage. A trail followed them — not the slow drip of a body gone cold, but a steady, unbroken flow, as if her heart still beat somewhere unseen. The smell clung to the air like metal and rot. This became a huge issue for Jack, who struggled to keep himself from gagging as they made their way through the house. Marcy had very quickly gone nose blind to the smell, even making an effort to sniff closer to Steph’s body, jealous that Jack seemed to smell something different than her. After a few minutes of difficulty with the door to the garage, they very gently placed Steph in the back of her hummer. Despite their delicate movements, Steph’s body still hit the back seats of the car like a bag of wet cement, immediately showering everything in sight with bloody bathwater. The bloodied water slid deep into the seams of the leather, darkening the pale upholstery in creeping, irregular shapes. It seeped with a slow persistence, worming its way into every stitch and groove as though searching for somewhere to hide. The seats greedily engulfed every last drop, continually fed by the irregular stream of blood still pouring from Steph’s wrists. The smell of iron thickened instantly in the enclosed air, clinging to the back Jack’s throat, choking and gagging him as he retreated from the hummer.
Marcy chuckled to herself, thinking about how pissed Steph would be if so much as a speck of dust made its way into her car, let alone a waterfall of bodily fluids. Her chuckle began to evolve into a full-on belly laugh as she crawled through the car to howl directly in Steph’s face. “Oh, you would have hated this you clean freak!” Marcy shouted at Steph’s corpse before laughing so hard she fell backwards onto the cabin armrest. She continued to laugh uncontrollably, staring at the roof of the car while motioning for Jack to start driving. He watched from outside the car in complete horror. Part of him was ready to run off into the pitch-black night, wanting to put as much distance between him and Marcy as possible. It would be pointless; however, he’d be extremely likely to injure himself without any kind of light, and there was a better than good chance that if he ran, Marcy would chase. No, he’d be better off driving them to the hospital, at least there he could shield himself from Marcy’s insanity behind a wall of strangers.
Filled with a newfound determination, Jack covered his nose with an old bandana he found in Steph’s garage and shoved the keys into the ignition. The headlights tore through the pitch-dark like knives, lighting up the gravel driveway.
At first, it was just dust and stone in the beams — but then something shifted at the edge of the light. Low to the ground. Wet. Breathing. Jack’s hands froze on the wheel.
In the back, something shifted again. Not the steady drip of blood in the upholstery — this was heavier, deliberate, like Steph had just adjusted herself in the seat.
Marcy chuckled from the back seat. Jack saw her face was pale and glassy. “Steph! You just need to relax, we’ll get you there in one piece, lay back down,” she said.
Jack didn’t answer. In the rearview mirror, next to Marcy, Steph was now sitting next to her. Steph’s head had slumped forward, tilted slightly so now it was turned slightly toward him. Her gray eyes caught the light and didn’t blink, feeling like needles pressing into the back of Jack’s neck.
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