Bitter Sweet Hell (Hell Night 2)

I think back and vaguely remember the young couple. I don’t remember their names, but their faces come to mind.

“I don’t remember much about them, but yes, I remember them. Why?”

“So, you don’t know what happened to them?”

“No.”

He turns his back to me. “I don’t remember them much either. But I do remember all of a sudden Jenny living with her aunt and uncle. I don’t recall ever seeing them again after that.” He pulls a video up on the screen. “Look at this.”

He presses play and it takes the video a moment to focus. It’s the hall, crowded with adults and children. I ignore the cries and wails and force my attention where Emo is pointing.

“That’s Mick and Deanna, Jenny’s parents. Watch them.”

I lean down, because the quality is shit, and take a closer look, recognizing the two people at the coffee table-sized table. The angle isn’t very good with them off to the side, but good enough to tell what’s going on. Mick is at the end with his pants around his knees standing between Jenny’s thighs. Deanna is at the head of the table, her face to the side of Jenny’s, her hand running down Jenny’s stomach. The sight makes my stomach twist in disgust, and I force back the urge to hurl.

Looking past the depraved behavior, I look at Deanna’s face, which is turned to the camera. I lean closer and notice something. Deanna looks like she’s… crying. There’s a sheen on her cheeks, and it’s not from sweat. Her expression is drawn tight and pained. Glancing at her hands, it looks like they’re barely touching Jenny.

“Do you see it?” Emo asks.

Ignoring him, my eyes move to Mick. For all intents and purposes, he looks like he’s having sex with his daughter. He has his hands on her thighs and his hips move back and forth, mimicking sex. There’s just one small problem.

I look to Emo and he pauses the video. “He doesn’t have an erection.” It’s not very noticeable because of the shadows and the grainy quality of the video, but if you look closely enough when he pulls back, you can tell the man is softer than a marshmallow. “Neither one of them wanted to be there doing what they were doing.”

“Exactly,” he puts in. “According to the date on this video and Jenny’s birthdate, she had just turned the right age to fully take part in Hell Night almost a week prior. This would have been the final stage to comp

lete her initiation. You’d think they would be foaming at the mouth to get to her after waiting so long. They aren’t. They look like they’re barely holding onto their stomachs.”

“You said they disappeared and she moved in with her aunt and uncle. So, what happened to them.”

It’s more of a statement than a question. Emo and I were both twelve at the time Sweet Haven was raided, and according to the date on the video, this took place about a month before the town was taken down. Unless we were directly involved or overheard something, there’s no reason why we would know what happened to Jenny’s parents.

“People aren’t allowed to leave Malus, so that only leaves one choice.”

“They had to have been murdered,” I voice our grim thought. “Question is, was it because of their less than enthusiastic participation or did they do something The Council didn’t like. Regardless, they must have been murdered not long after this video, because the raid wasn’t long after this happened.”

“She was only five, but it might be a good idea to ask Jenny if she remembers anything.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets. “I’ve got to drop Eden off at Judge’s place for a couple hours so I can take care of a few things, but when I pick her up, I’ll have a talk with Jenny. I’ll also check the death records my parents kept. See if any of them are Mick and Deanna’s.”

Emo gives me a stiff nod before turning back to the computer monitor and closing out the paused video. After, we leave his office in search of the women, finding them where I left them in the kitchen. Eden has her hands wrapped around a coffee mug held close to her mouth.

“You ready to go?” I ask, walking up and lightly tugging on the end of her braid.

She moves toward the sink to dump the rest of her coffee, but I grab the cup before she can. “I’ll finish it.”

“It’s hot,” she warns, but I’ve already got it to my lips, tipping it back and swallowing the hot liquid.

She snorts and rolls her eyes, but they sparkle with laughter. “Men,” she mutters. “They think they’re so tough.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Grace adds, her own eyes dancing lightheartedly.

“That’s because we are,” I interject. “Right, Emo?”

His answer is a grunt as he walks to the coffee pot and pours his own cup.

“Besides,” I set the cup in the sink and turn to snag Eden around her waist, “You women like us men being tough.”

She shrugs. “Eh. Sometimes.” She looks at Grace and winks before bringing her eyes back to me. “When it’s convenient for us.”