January 29, 1936.
Some people change, others hate it. But people adapt differently to the same situation.
I survived a few nights in this hellhole and I don't think I adapted well.
After spending a few nights avoiding anything that had to do with Lizzy, I realized that I hated this place that used to be home.
Due to that reason, I wasn't able to write a lot during my stay here.
We decided to keep her funeral short and simple as everyone didn't want to cope with a huge loss in our family, but it still impacted us deeply. In my case, it still haunts me in my sleep.
Two weeks had already passed, and I was leaving already.
I decided to visit her once more before I left. I quickly bought a bouquet of red scarlet roses, one of her favourites and headed to the graveyard.
But as I neared her grave, I noticed something. Dirt surrounded her place, creating piles of it. What is that?
I walked closer and to my horror... her casket was gone.
There was nothing left inside the pit but only her broken tombstone lying there in the empty.
The roses that were once bundled in my hands were scattered on the ground, dead.
I can't remember how fast I ran to his place because I couldn't process what I'd just seen. But next thing I knew, I was already there.
Without hesitation, I barged into his home, but it was silent.
"Jeffrey? Jeffrey!" I screamed.
But the only one that answered me was my echoes, yelling back at me.
Why isn't he here? Where in the hell would he be staying at?
I nervously ran through my jacket pocket and felt a sharp object deep inside. My eyes widened.
That's right, he had given me a key to his wine cellar. If he isn't anywhere else in this house, he might be in there.
I walked down the dark hallway and reached the stairway, having to deal with the stench again.
To my suprise, the door was unlocked and light shined in the room—but there wasn't a lock on the door.
So what did this key unlock? Confusion rises on me as I crept into the room and found no one in sight.
But this meant Jeffrey might've been in here, or maybe, he is in here.
The once hidden wooden door was now out in the open, the wooden barrels were now in its surrounding areas. I was correct, he is inside.
With the key in hand, I slowly unlocked the locked door and immediately, the scent got worse, I started gagging.
I held my breath in, covering my nose with one hand. When I shut the door behind me, absolute silence greeted my ears, making me pause.
Nothing, no sound whatsoever. Even the hum of the air was gone. It was an utter void.
Swift goosebumps slithered up my spine, spreading through my veins like a motor oil in dirty water.
The quietness rubbed at my stomach, shocking my senses.
It seemed like there weren't any main lights in this basement, rather just torch-light scones lit the walls around me. It basked the dark atmosphere in an eerily soft glow.
What kind of storage room is this? Why would Jeffrey own this place?
My head twirled in all directions, scared and terrified, expecting something to harm me.
But nothing appeared, only vacantness and gloominess glimpsed back at me.
"Inhale. Hold. Step. Exhale." I told myself repeatedly. Repeat the cycle no matter what.
My heartbeat scratched at my throat like a wild beast. Every step towards nothingness feels like stepping in thick mud.
The lights were noticeably getting softer as I inch closer to the rotten scent. I was getting closer, closer and closer.
And I saw it, the rotten stench I had been smelling this whole entire time.
Multiple body's accelerated downwards with red dried liquid sprayed the walls and floors in ribbons, mingling with the pool of open brains.
A thick mess was slathered on them, decorating their naked bodies like a dense splatter painting.
Dismembered torso and limbs were lavished in the warm crimson, drenched and bathed into their skin.
Ripped pieces of organs hung from their bodies like a rubbery, dripping sheet.
The furniture he had been talking about? this was it.
Teared off chunks of skin and muscle were hammered to each other, creating different varieties of furniture that decorated the room. Chairs, tables... you name it. It's all in here.
The food I consumed the last few weeks, was it human remains? Fear ran over me, hitting me like a hammer, I puked.
The rancid yet intoxicating aroma wafted through the room, suffocating me in it's stench. But it worsened as I viewed the next dead corpse hanging differently from the rest.
"...Lizzy?" Nausea wells up on my throat.
Her smile was gone and was now plastered with a lifeless soul, cold and skinned to the bones.
Her face was unrecognizable now as melted skin mixed in with her ruined hair.
Hunks of wet muscles and tissues filled the huge basin beside her dead body.
A hoarse gag grazed my throat as I witnessed her stomach organs that resembled roses split open with thin red veins melding in it.
The oxygen filtering to my brain and heart stopped, every fiber in my body numbing when the sudden realization came to me.
Jeffrey did all of this, created all of this. The plate shattering wasn't a habit, this was.
A slaughterhouse, the creation of human furniture. The Jeffrey we knew back then wasn't his true identity, this was.
A monster, a cold blooded monster.
I didn't realize sooner, but he killed Lizzy. He killed her solely for the purpose of making furniture.
As I stepped backwards, the bittersweet silence that stalked me evaporated like a melted ice cube.
Footsteps. Faint, but clear.
Brutal alertness prodded at my stomach as the footsteps got louder, making it bubble like fresh champagne. Fresh blood jetting in my ears, matching the rhythm of my pounding heart.
I wasn't alone. Someone was there. Someone's behind me.
But it can't just be someone, it has to be...
"Hi, Connor."
...him.
