Bloody mary, p.1
Bloody Mary, page 1
Bloody Mary
by
John Watson
Table of Contents
Title Page
Bloody Mary
They often say that you can’t go home again, but for Keith Mills, there is no other option. | Recently released from rehab and mourning the death of his mother, Keith inherits the family home where his father was brutally murdered five years earlier. It’s not the ideal place to create a new beginning, but Keith is determined to make it work. | His plans for a peaceful existence are soon shattered, though, as a clerical error sees the wrong cremains delivered to the home. Rather than having his mother back home, an evil arrives, intent on staking her claim on the property. | Bloody Mary is looking for a place to dwell, even if it means unleashing Hell. | Dedication
Acknowledgments
John Watson
Copyright © 2022 by Crazy Ink
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © Crazy Ink
Bloody Mary/Crazy Ink—1st ed.
They often say that you can’t go home again, but for Keith Mills, there is no other option.
Recently released from rehab and mourning the death of his mother, Keith inherits the family home where his father was brutally murdered five years earlier. It’s not the ideal place to create a new beginning, but Keith is determined to make it work.
His plans for a peaceful existence are soon shattered, though, as a clerical error sees the wrong cremains delivered to the home. Rather than having his mother back home, an evil arrives, intent on staking her claim on the property.
Bloody Mary is looking for a place to dwell, even if it means unleashing Hell.
Dedication
For all my regular readers who keep coming back for more. I appreciate every single one of you.
Chapter One
Keith Mills awoke with a groan, squinting as the bright rays of morning assaulted his bloodshot eyes. Flipping over and away from the sun, Keith groaned again when he saw a girl lying beside him, a thin trail of drool running free from her open mouth. He tried to remember her name or how he met her, but the memory failed to come as the booze from the previous night continued to short-circuit his brain.
Sitting up in bed, Keith wiped the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand and glanced around the messy bedroom. It did not look familiar, which did not strike him as surprising. Drunken nights and one-night stands were a common occurrence now, all done with the intent of washing and fucking the pain away. The dull ache in his gut told him that the attempt was once again a failure.
He slid out of bed, trying not to dislodge the covers and wake the sleeping girl, and snatched up his clothes from the floor. Dressing quickly, he headed out of the bedroom and tiptoed across the floor, dodging empty cans and bottles and an open pizza box crawling with cockroaches. Keith swallowed down the bile rushing into his throat and stepped out into the daylight, wilting under it like a vampire exposed to the sun.
The cell phone in his pocket vibrated against his leg. Moving away from the ramshackle house, he headed for the corner of the street and tried to get his bearings. The street signs told him little, as it was an unfamiliar part of town. He fished out his phone and ordered an Uber, hoping he had enough money in his account to cover the cost of the ride. Once he saw the driver headed his way, he checked his alerts and saw several missed calls and texts from his mom. Sighing heavily, he opened the text app and read the latest.
We need to talk. Call me ASAP.
He scrolled through the previous messages and saw more of the same. He knew that Rebecca Mills would continue to call and text until he responded, so he messaged her back and said he would be in touch shortly. If he was going to visit his mom, he needed another drink or two to gather the strength to make it happen.
Keith dug into the pockets of his jeans and fished out some loose bills, most of which were damp and reeking of liquor. Thinking back, he remembered lifting the money off a table at the bar, money that was supposed to be a tip for the server. He felt a small pang of guilt, but he quickly shrugged it off when he realized there was enough to buy him a bottle of cheap liquor and maybe a bite to eat.
Closing his eyes, Keith leaned against the stop sign at the corner of the intersection, allowing his thoughts to drift to better days. All the good times were when he was a kid, before the madness that had arrived at the family home and changed his life forever. He tried not to think of that night too often, turning to alcohol to wash away the bad memories, only to see them return like flotsam washed in on the tide.
The sound of a car horn blaring brought him back to the present with a jolt. Keith opened his eyes and waved at the Uber driver, who eyed him warily.
“Are you Keith?” the driver shouted through the open window on the passenger side.
“That’s me.” Keith slid into the vehicle’s back seat and felt his stomach lurch as the scent of air fresheners hit his nose. It was like stepping into a pine forest drenched in cheap perfume, and it wasn’t pleasant.
“Rough night?” the driver asked.
“Huh?”
“You look like you had a rough night.”
“One of many,” Keith said, turning to look out the side window, hoping the driver would take it as a sign that he didn’t want to be bothered.
“I’m Mike,” the Uber driver said, missing the hint. “Where did you go?”
“Some dive bar. Can’t remember the name, but the drinks were cheap.” Keith wanted to scream at the man to shut up, to leave him be, but he continued to ramble on.
“I used to be heavily into the bar scene, too, but I got myself clean. I’m now doing sales for a health and fitness company that makes protein powders and all kinds of...”
Keith closed his eyes as Mike continued to talk. SHUT UP!! For the love of God, please stop talking.
“...I’m not making that much money yet, which is why I’m doing the Uber thing, but I got in on the ground floor with this company, so I’m hoping it’ll reap benefits in the long haul.” He snuck a peek in the rearview mirror. “What about you.”
“What about me?” Keith asked, struggling to hide the disdain in his voice.
“What do you do for work? Or are you in school?”
“I’m between jobs.”
The driver nodded. “I hear that, man. Things are tough right now.”
The car continued on, and Mike continued talking. Keith nodded and muttered words of agreement in the appropriate places, but he tuned the man out for the most part. When he finally saw that they were close to home, a sense of relief washed over him, knowing that the sweet sound of silence was approaching.
The vehicle was still slowing down when Keith opened the door to get out. Before he could make it out, Mike halted the car and reached over the seat, a business card clutched between two fingers.
“Thanks for the ride,” Keith said, ignoring the card.
“Take it, man. There’s money to be made with this company, I’m telling you.”
Snatching the business card, Keith climbed out of the car and watched as the driver sped away, honking the horn as a form of goodbye. As soon as the vehicle was around the corner and out of sight, he crumbled up the card and tossed it into the gutter.
Keith dashed up the apartment steps and into the lobby as the first drops of rain began to fall. The elevator doors stood open, so he stepped inside and pushed the button for the fourth floor, the scent of day’s old sweat hitting his nostrils as he extended his arm. It was then that Keith realized he was unsure what day it was, which was what tended to happen when his drinking spiraled out of control. It was just one of the reasons why he knew he was on thin ice with his roommate, Mark.
Since leaving home at eighteen and thumbing his nose at college, Keith had jumped from job to job and couch to couch, leaning on friends for a place to stay. He had burned all those bridges and was in danger of doing the same with Mark, his best friend since elementary school. Keith knew he was out of places to go if Mark booted him out, especially if he didn’t start contributing money for rent and food.
Exiting the elevator, Keith walked slowly down the hallway to the apartment, suddenly feeling bone weary. He stepped inside and dropped the house keys in his jeans. “Hi, honey, I’m home,” he called out.
No answer.
Keith moved around the small apartment, amazed at how clean it was compared to the disaster that was his room. He opened the bedroom door and had to lay his shoulder into it to move the pile of dirty clothes that blocked his entrance. The smell of day’s old rotting food hung heavy in the air, and he swatted at a fly that buzzed past his ear. Picking a path through the clothes and trash on the floor, Keith made it to his bed, where he sat and placed his head in his hands as he struggled to hold back tears. How had his life come to this?
The vibration of the phone in his pocket pulled him out of his bout of self-pity. He fished it out and sighed when he saw “MOM” on the display screen. The urge to hit the end call button was strong, but instead, he hit answer and said, “Hi, Mom.”
“Well, it’s about time. I’ve been worried sick.”
For a moment, there was no response, and then Rebecca spoke, choosing to ignore what she knew to be a lie. “I need you to come home today. I have something I have to tell you.”
“That’s not my home anymore, Mom.”
“It will always be your home, whether you choose to live here or not.”
Keith wasn’t in the mood to argue with his mother for the umpteenth time, plus he heard a tremor in her voice that made him nervous. Rebecca Mills was a strong-willed woman, so hearing frailty of any kind was unusual. “Can’t you just tell me over the phone?”
“No,” Rebecca snapped. “I’m making dinner. Be here at five. Oh, and bring your laundry, too.”
Keith eyed the moldy pile of clothes on the floor and wondered if his mother had some superhero power that could allow her to see through the telephone line. The truth was that she knew her son better than anyone and was well aware that he was a disorganized mess of a man.
“Are you coming?” she almost pleaded.
“I’ll be there, Mom. I promise.”
Chapter Two
Keith sat on the bed for a moment, allowing all manner of thoughts to roll through his mind. From past experience, being summoned home was never a good thing. It usually ended in his mother crying and saying how disappointed she was in how Keith’s life was turning out. He never argued with her, mostly because he knew she was right. His life was a shit show.
The thought spurred him into action. Keith ran into the kitchen and retrieved a pair of trash bags from under the sink. He took time to go through his clothes to find stuff he could wear, after which he dumped the rest in the bag. The second bag he filled with the garbage in his room, which mostly consisted of fast food wrappers, paper plates with old food stuck to them, and empty beer bottles. He reached under his bed to fish out what was under there, and his hand closed on something metallic. Pulling it out, he smiled as he saw that it was the hip flask that he thought was long since gone. Giving it a little shake, he was surprised to hear that it still held some liquor.
“It’s my lucky day,” he said aloud.
Keith unscrewed the top and held the flask to his lips, savoring the peaty scent of scotch coming from within. He licked his lips and downed the contents of the flask, shuddering as the liquid burned his throat and bloomed in his chest.
He carried the empty flask into the bathroom and rinsed it out in the sink, taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror and suddenly wishing he hadn’t. Heavy black circles underscored his green eyes, and his naturally wavy brown hair flew off wildly in a million different directions. Opening his mouth, Keith grimaced at the sight of his teeth, which were bordering more toward yellow than white.
“Time for a shower,” he muttered aloud.
The water was scalding hot, but it felt good on his skin, as did the expensive body wash that Mark always had on hand. Using his roommate’s stuff always reminded Keith that he needed to get better about pulling his weight financially, but by the time he had toweled dry and passed inspection in front of the mirror, that reminder drifted out of his mind.
With a couple of hours to kill before heading out to his mom’s house, Keith plopped himself on the couch and watched some mindless afternoon TV. While eagerly awaiting the results of a paternity test on one of the shows, Keith felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a message from his mom.
Are you still living with Mark?
He responded that he was and quickly received a return message.
Uber will be there in a half hour. BE READY!!
Twenty minutes later, Keith stood on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, a trash bag filled with dirty laundry at his feet and the empty hip flask in his back pocket. Before the incident that changed his life forever, Keith’s father had owned a thriving liquor store and always maintained a stocked bar at home. He knew there was still plenty of the hard stuff in the liquor cabinet at his mom’s house, so refilling his flask would not be a problem.
Right on time, the Uber pulled up, and Keith was relieved to see that it wasn’t the same driver as earlier. Better yet, the guy didn’t say a word the entire drive, instead nodding his head to some strange foreign music that Keith did not recognize.
As they turned onto the street where his mom lived, Keith marveled at how all the houses looked the same and how every front garden was set to a standard deemed essential by the homeowner’s association. He never understood why the neighborhood's citizens refused to rebel and overthrow the tyrannic association. Still, it was probably just easier to cut the grass, tend the flowers, and opt for the quiet life.
As the car slowed to a stop in front of the family home, Keith wanted to tap the driver on the shoulder and tell him to keep moving, to drive away from there as quickly as possible. Instead, he thanked the driver, grabbed his trash bag, and stepped outside.
From the street, the house looked like every other property in the subdivision. The paint job on the front door was different than the rest, as were the window boxes brimming with flowers. Since the events of five years ago, the community association seemed to think it better not to cause a scene with his mother, the grieving widow.
Throwing the bag over his shoulder, Keith trudged up the front path and rang the doorbell, self-consciously running his fingers through his hair as he waited for a response.
“It’s open,” Rebecca called from inside.
Keith felt his heart begin to race as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He slipped off his tattered running shoes and placed them under the table by the door. Checking himself out in the large mirror above the table, he looked for the little details his mother might harp on him about. His hair was tidier than it had been before the shower, but it still needed a trim, plus his bloodshot eyes were a sure sign that he needed more sleep. It was as good as it was going to get, so he followed the delicious scent of pasta sauce wafting from the kitchen, refusing to look at the discolored patch of hardwood flooring in front of the door leading to the storage space under the stairs.
“Something smells good,” Keith said as he stepped into the kitchen.
Rebecca Mills stood in front of the stove, slowly stirring a pot of sauce as she kept an eye on the bubbling water holding the pasta on a separate burner. “I’m making your favorite.”
Stomach growling, Keith smiled and moved to greet his mother, stopping in his tracks when she turned to face him. Her skin was flushed from the stove heat, but he could still see that she was paler than usual and that her cheeks looked sunken. Dark circles ringed her eyes, which seemed almost lifeless, and her raven hair was thin and stringy.
Sensing that her son looked shocked at her appearance, Rebecca smiled grimly. “I guess I shouldn’t complain about your appearance.”
It had been six months or so since he had last seen his mother, and Keith was stunned that a woman who wasn’t yet in her fifties could suddenly look ten to fifteen years older. “What’s going on, Mom?”
Rebecca used a paper towel to wipe the sweat from her brow and then waved it toward the dining room table. “Have a seat. We can talk while we eat. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Doing as he was told, Keith sat at the table, but he refused to take his eyes off his mother, watching her every move and looking for signs of other physical changes he may have missed. There were too many to count.
Setting the steaming plates of food on the table, Rebecca tousled her son’s hair like a five-year-old. “Eat up. You’re way too thin.”
“I thought you weren’t going to mention my appearance,” Keith said, shoveling a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. “Maybe we should be talking about yours.”
Rebecca pushed her food around the plate, the fork tines sounding like nails on a chalkboard. She opened her mouth to speak, and then snapped it shut quickly.
“What’s going on, Mom? Are you sick?”
“I am.”
Keith pushed his plate away, his appetite suddenly gone. “What is it, and how long have you known? I don’t mean to sound cruel, Mom, but you look terrible.”
“It’s colon cancer. I’ve been sick for a couple of months, but...well, they couldn’t figure out what was wrong at first. I start chemo in a couple of days.”
