For some clarification, my girlfriend had been planning a trip to California for the last four months. Normally, I’d have gone with her, but it was for her grandmother’s birthday. She was old, and this could’ve quite possibly been my girlfriend’s last chance to take a trip with her.
She had spent those four months meticulously planning, as she always did, and the week before the trip, she must’ve had at least five full bags packed for her week-long venture.
“You can never be too careful,” she always told me.
She was always the planning type. Mapping things out. Going over every possibility. It was one of the things I admired about her. She hated when things didn’t go the way they were supposed to.
That’s why, on the day of her trip, when I woke up to find her still lying in bed with me long after her early morning flight, I almost panicked.
I shook her awake frantically, and her eyes slowly rolled open. She groggily asked why I was waking her, and when I told her the time, she didn’t react how I expected her to.
Instead of panicking herself or even calling her mom to let her know she missed the flight, she simply rolled back over and shut her eyes again.
“Oh yeah,” she groaned. “The flight… honestly, it should be okay.”
“Be okay?” I responded, a bit flabbergasted. “Don’t you think you should at least call and let them know?”
She grumbled a lazy, “No, no, everything should be fine,” before she began snoring, something else that was completely new for her.
I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t force her. I was just… shocked, I guess. I just thought that maybe she had already talked to her mom and grandma. Maybe something had come up, and she forgot to tell me.
I just went to work like everything was normal. When I came back, she was still at home. She looked… absent. I found her sitting on the couch, staring at a black TV screen.
When I greeted her, she snapped out of it.
“Honey!! I’m so glad you’re home,” she chirped. “Tell me everything that happened at work today.”
We spent the whole night chatting, but it was like her mind was somewhere else. I’d catch her drifting off into outer space. She thought too long about her responses. Her speech pattern was slower than normal, even though her face was one of excitement as we talked.
I figured that something must’ve happened with her grandmother, so I asked her.
“Hon… did anything happen to make you not want to go on your trip?”
She stared at me for a while. Her smile disappeared. Her face was blank, but only for a split second before lighting up again.
“No, not that I know of,” she responded cheerily. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” I replied cautiously.
The next few days were weird. She never seemed to want to leave the house. I mean, not that I could blame her. She had already taken off work for the trip, but I figured she’d at least want to go to the park or something. It was one of our favorite things to do together.
She also wasn’t eating much. Every night I’d cook for us, but she kept insisting she wasn’t hungry. Must’ve been a lie, though, because on some of those nights, long after we’d gone to bed, I’d find her in the kitchen, completely surrounded by food.
Cereal boxes would be ripped open with their contents scattered across the floor. Granola bar wrappers. Spilled milk. Raw rice and beans. It was concerning, to say the least.
By the end of the week, something hit me that I hadn’t caught before. It was like a dim lightbulb lit up over my head, and I approached her timidly.
“…Honey,” I inquired carefully.
“Yes, sweet boy of mine,” she replied lovingly, sitting on the edge of our bed, staring at a wall.
I gulped a bit.
“What ever happened to your bags? Did you unpack them? I haven’t seen your toothbrush or shampoo or anything anywhere.”
She didn’t respond. She just kept staring… like the wall was the TV. Finally, she slowly turned around, and her hollow eyes met mine.
“Honey…” she whispered gleefully. “You know that’s none of your business.”
She didn’t seem mad, but she refused to talk to me for the next two days. She didn’t even want to sleep in the same bed as me. Of course, I’d have felt wrong making her sleep on the couch, so I just let her have the bed while I wallowed in my own confusion.
It wasn’t until the night before she was supposed to return from the trip that she let me sleep with her again, and even then, she slept with her back toward me.
I woke up in the middle of the night to a ruckus coming from the kitchen. I stepped out of my room and noticed that the kitchen light was on.
It sounded like an animal was loose in there. Like it was in the process of devouring something. Growls. The wet sound of chewing. But, as I approached, the sounds suddenly stopped.
I froze in my tracks for a few seconds, debating whether or not I should continue before ultimately deciding to keep going.
Only… when I took that last step, I heard my girlfriend’s voice. It was angrier than I’d ever heard her. More hostile. Like she was trying to send a message.
“Go back to bed,” she screamed.
The house was silent for a moment. I argued with myself internally about whether or not to listen or check on her.
I decided to listen, and the moment I began making my way back to the bedroom, the noises started up again.
I don’t know how long I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to tell myself that everything was normal before falling back asleep, but I know that I woke up alone the next morning.
The bathroom was empty. The halls were empty. The house was… empty.
I kept calling out and received no response, but when I entered the kitchen, that’s when panic really set in.
There was blood everywhere. Not from my girlfriend… but from the raw meat that was scattered across the floor.
Chicken, steak, pork, everything. Everything had been nearly completely eaten.
I thought back to the night before, and my heart started to pound. I felt dizzy. I felt like I was losing it. I tried to take a seat to calm myself, but before I could, the front door opened.
“Honey,” my girlfriend sang. “I’m home! Can you come help me with these bags? I’ve got so much to tell you.”
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