Prologue
Running down the streets of Lull Lane had always been Antonio Santos’ favorite thing to do, especially early in the mornings. Even on rainy days, he couldn’t help but grab his raincoat and head out. For Antonio, running was more than a habit; it was a showcase of his pride, a way to remind others of his status.
His sense of pride manifested in every step, and the freshest air was drawn in simply because his nose was always held high. But with the highs must come the lows, and no matter how many years he had been running, his inherited bad genes always made him feel like his heart was going to either implode or burst out of his chest. Still, he had to keep running.
Antonio also prided himself on his good looks. Though he was never tall in stature, he felt compensated for his natural tan and espresso-colored, wavy hair. His wife Camille was captivated by the haunting depths of his light browneyes. She often claimed they shimmered like pools of honey, reflecting secrets buried deep within. Their unsettling allure was only revealed when the light caught them just right.
Camille, on the other hand, was a tall, blonde, blue-eyed all-American girl. She was born and raised in Connecticut, whereas Antonio was born in a small Sonoran town in Mexico.
After he was born, his mother traveled north, where she met a kind businessman while working as a cleaning lady. The two fell in love. Being raised by a successful stepfather in New York and growing up as an only child put him on a silver platter; he seemed to live the ultimate American dream.
Towards the end of his high school years, Antonio’s biological father arrived in New York, out of the blue, and attempted to drag him back to Mexico, a country he had little to no knowledge of. Aside from some nursery rhymes his mother had sung to him as a child, he had never truly learned the language.
One afternoon, Antonio was walking home from school, as he approached his street, he noticed several emergency vehicles parked along the curb. His breath began to quicken with anticipation. It was then that he realized that they were parked in front of his house.
Instead of walking through the front of the house and most likely getting stopped by the first responders or cops, he decided to sneak in through his window. He often left it unlocked and cracked open, as it made it easier to sneak out with his friends in the middle of the night.
Trying not to be noticed, he opened the door and slid into his room. Struggling to keep his composure, he walked towards his door and quietly stepped out. The house, a two-story home, had an open floor plan with a direct view towards the living room from the edge of the second-story landing. Antonio slowly approached the wooden banister and looked down, his heart rapidly sinking and eyes quickly widening when the sight of blood became more apparent.
On the floor, his stepfather lay in a pool of blood and chunky flesh; most of his head was completely obliterated. Antonio could only recognize him by the shredded remnants of his black dress shirt, still wrinkled and stained from breakfast. Traces of shattered skull fragments showered his body, and his blood pooled beneath him, seeped into every fiber of the carpet.
On the nearby couch, his mother. A gaping hole in her stomach; that resembled a newly discovered cave entrance, clearly created by a gunshot. Her intestines pooled loosely on her lap, spilling over her hands like thick, slimy ropesthat rested on each side of her body. Flies were landing and feasting on her, already beginning to lay their eggs. She had begun to become part of someone else’s life cycle.
Next to her, Antonio’s father. He sat limped forward, with his skull partially intact; his flesh fanned down to his neck. Unlike his stepdad, the lower half of his head hung at an awkward angle. Half his mandible was left behind, exposing his intact tongue and shattered teeth. Chunky brain matter decorated the couch like a canvas from a deranged artist, and blood splattered viciously. The air felt thick and bitter in taste.
The more Antonio looked, the more he saw of his family’s flesh and bones spread around the room. He couldn’t tell what belonged to whom; ultimately, all had become one. His throat filled with bile as he stumbled backwards, giving away his presence. He wanted to escape, but as the walls closed on him, his legs gave out.
Antonio stood frozen on the ground at the sight of what remained of his family, until the colonel noticed him and shouted, “Goddamn it, how did the kid get in here? Get him the fuck out!” Officers quickly ran upstairs, took him outside the home, and into the back of an ambulance. There, Antonio saw how the world spun around him, but he was left frozen in time. Later that night, he was told that his father most likely had entered the home right after hewent to school. The mailman called the cops after seeing the front door wide open and catching a glimpse of his stepdad’s body.
While trying to make sense of the bloody sight earlier in the day and having fallen asleep on the police station’s stiff chair, he was awakened by his stepdad’s sister. Since there was no one else left to take him, his step-aunt stepped in and agreed to take him. Unlike him and his family, she lived in Connecticut. He didn’t realize that he would always remember that car ride leaving New York and what was left of his childhood, another moment in life frozen deep in his hardened soul.
The sight of his family’s massacre embedded in his brain left him with recurrent nightmares and an inability to cope. Antonio, while being part of the elite part of Wisteria High School, often acted out through heavy drinking with friends and mischief. Being on the football team, he became close friends with other boys who liked to get into similar trouble. He wasn’t one to date much, and for that, he would be picked on, often being pushed to kiss another equally drunk girl during the team’s late-night secret outings. That is exactly how he met his now-wife, Camille, a wild girl at heart.
One night, after a football game, the boys began mixing drugs and alcohol. After a few hours of heavy partyingwith Camille and the rest of the team at the train tracks, the night abruptly ended. Antonio snuck back into his home and never snuck out again, haunted by how his life had changed after the shooting and his behavior at the tracks. Scared and filled with regret, he pushed his friends away, only finding comfort in Camille after sharing the ugliest parts of themselves. They left their past behind to start a new life together, free of guilt.
After his eighteenth birthday, Antonio was able to access his parents’ money and pay for his education. After leaving his step-aunt’s home, he studied law and became a successful lawyer. Marrying Camille during college was one of the best moments in his life, she studied music and could sing like a siren. Sometimes, while lying in bed in each other’s arms, she would sing for him, helping keep the demons of his past at bay.
As the rain began to drip heavily on Antonio’s face, the memories of the past started to fade again. Now tired and soaked, he realized that he had stopped in front of the gates of the mansion at the end of his street to catch his breath. Dark and worn down, chills shook his body like tiny needles embedded within his nervous system. He couldn’t help but stare at the mansion; he once knew the people who lived in it. The hair of his neck began to rise, notrealizing his lips turned blue from unknowingly holding his breath.
A loud cry from a crow perched on the mansion’s fence broke his trance, and Antonio quickly snapped back to reality, running back toward home. He began to run faster, stumbling up the steps of his house. Camille came out, still in her robe, to help him. Antonio was slim and light, so she managed to guide him back inside. After helping him onto the couch, she grabbed a cool bag from the freezer and placed it on his head. A minute later, he stood, hugged Camille, and kissed his pregnant wife’s belly.
Chapter One - The Gift
Fuck Savannah Emmerson and her shitty ass yard. Antonio thought to himself every morning as he ran past the mansion, “Why can’t she just move away?” This question had been in his head since the tracks. After calling the city multiple times without avail, he was advised to gather signatures from everyone in the neighborhood to cite her. He didn’t want to talk to the neighbors, so he chose to let it go.
He had gone to high school with most of the people on Lull Lane, of course, others had moved into the empty homes of those who they never heard from again, like Larry. “Why is everyone pregnant at the same time anyways? Did I miss pact day?” His thoughts filled his head as he tried to run. “Oh, what a day to run,” he sighed out to himself. Joy filled his lungs as the sun kissed his damp forehead.
As the pregnancy came to an end, Antonio and Camille spent time putting the nursery together. Wanting it to be as perfect as possible, they never missed the opportunity to work in their baby’s new room. Even though they had found out months ago they were going to have a girl, they still wanted to paint the room shades of white and gray. After all, they were Camille’s favorite colors.
While they were painting the room, they kept the window open. As the wind picked up, it snapped small branches and twigs from a nearby tree, sending them flying into the bedroom. A few struck Antonio in the face as he continued to paint, while dust and other small debris swirled in through the open window.
“Can you please close the window?” he asked.
“Sure, honey, are you okay? You seem troubled ever since your panic attack a few weeks ago.”
“I am okay, I shouldn’t have run as far out,” he replied.
Antonio never liked to worry Camille, he often kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. Ever since his mother’s death, he had a challenging time showing affection. Camille knew about his family’s tragedy and for that, shealways knew not to push his boundaries when he remained quiet. She was never one to yearn for pointless chat, growing up as an only child and a “bedroom baby,” she felt comfortable with absolute silence.
