I woke up early yesterday because of banging noises from next door. I figured that my neighbor, Jeff, must be doing some kind of renovation, and staring up at the waterstained crack in my ceiling, I found myself pondering if he was doing the work himself and how much he might charge to do some repairs over here if he was. Pushing the thought away, I began shuffling to the bathroom while trying to crawl out of the sleep fog permeating my brain. When I was done, I pulled on some jeans that were draped over the only chair in my bedroom.
Pushing my hands into the front pockets of the jeans, my left hand hit something hard and sticky feeling. When I pulled my hand out, I was holding a handful of broken, bloody teeth. I screamed and raked them off my palm onto the floor, going to wash my hands before coming back to examine them. There were 8 teeth, and judging by their size and condition, they were from a variety of people. At least two of them looked like they came from children.
I could hardly breathe. I had no idea or memory of where those teeth had come from. I checked the house for signs of a break-in, but there was none. I had only a handful of furniture and some clothes, so I was a poor target for a burglary, and I was new enough to town that I doubted I had developed a stalker already. Still, I was terrified.
I wracked my brain for any memory of how they could have gotten there or anything I might have done to hurt someone. I didn’t even know anyone yet other than my neighbor Jeff, and I couldn’t imagine one person—much less multiple people—doing something bad enough that I would want to hurt them like that anyway.
I didn’t have internet yet, and when I tried my phone, I got an automated message saying it had not been linked to a cellular account. Weird. I went outside to get in my car, but halfway down the walk to where it was parked, I detoured on impulse and went up to Jeff’s house.
It was a much larger and nicer house than mine and in much better condition, and that thought reminded me to ask if he did house repair work. If nothing else it would be a good excuse to justify coming over to ask him my more pressing questions.
When Jeff opened the door, I felt a small thrill at seeing him. He was handsome, with a face that was just worn enough to be interesting and a soft, deep voice that always sounded kind. He smiled when he saw me, and was about to say something when I blurted out my cover question.
“Do you do house work? I mean, like house repairs?”
Laughing, he looked back into his house, which looked very well decorated and clean despite whatever construction might be going on in there. I found myself idly wondering if he had a girlfriend before pulling myself back to focus on his response.
“Well, I guess, if you can call it that. I can do some basic stuff, yeah. Why, you need something fixed over there?” He shifted his gaze to my house, his face looking concerned.
“Yeah, maybe. Just a few small things if you’re interested some time. I’d pay you, of course, but I’m still looking for work, so I may have to do the repairs a little bit at the time.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about the money. Just figure out what you need done over there and let me know.” Turning back to me, Jeff had a slight frown. “Are you okay over there? Comfortable enough?”
It seemed an odd question, but he looked like he was legitimately worried, so I answered. “Yeah, I’m okay. Still settling in, but I’m glad to have a good neighbor at least.”
He studied me for a minute before nodding. “You want to come inside?”
My heart sped up again slightly, but I shook my head. “I’d like to, but another time. I’m going to the library right now.” I thought he was going to say something else, but instead he just nodded and said he’d see me later then. To come by whenever I wanted. Then with one last look that almost seemed sad, he went to shut the door.
“Hold…hold on, Jeff. I was going to ask you something else too.”
He opened the door back. “Sure, what’s up?”
“Well, have you noticed me acting weird in the last day or so? I know you don’t know me well, but I was just wondering if you saw me doing anything out of the ordinary lately.”
Instead of laughing or acting surprised, he just shook his head. “No, I can’t say I have. I haven’t seen you since yesterday, but you seemed fine then.” He paused. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in? Maybe if something is wrong, I can help.”
I smiled, feeling embarrassed. “Later maybe. I need to get some stuff done first.” He nodded and after saying goodbye again, he shut the door.
I considered whether or not I should have told him about the teeth, but what good would it have done? I think he’d have told me if he knew anything about it, and in the unlikely event he was the one that put them in my jeans, it wasn’t like he would just tell me because I asked. I felt confused, and frustrated by my confusion, as I walked to my car, and my time at the library that morning did nothing to help my mood.
I tried looking up everything I could think of. Weird crimes where people left teeth behind. Stalkers or serial killers that took or hid teeth. Even myths and legends of supernatural creatures that could explain having a pocket full of ruined, sticky molars and incisors. Nothing really fit, and after a couple of hours of looking, I was growing increasingly convinced that I was either going crazy or had just been fooled by a very vivid dream.
Driving back home, I decided on a plan. I would go back to my house and see if the teeth were actually still there. If they weren’t, I’d chalk it up to a nightmare and just keep an eye out for future weirdness. If they were, I was going to take a picture of them and call the police.
Despite my desperate hoping and praying on my trip back across town, when I got home I saw the teeth laying on my bedroom floor like discarded game pieces to some macabre board game. My stomach dropped at the sight and I started trying to come up with excuses as to why I shouldn’t tell anyone and just flush them or something.
But no. This was serious and I needed help. The authorities needed to be notified. Trying to find my resolve, I bent down and took two pictures of the teeth from different angles with my largely useless cell phone. The pictures were for the police, but more so they were for Jeff so I could short-circuit any questions he might have when I asked to use his phone. I didn’t want to spend twenty minutes of politely resisting his attempts to make me feel better or explain away what I had found. A picture was worth a thousand words.
I had a momentary panicked thought that he might not be home, but then I realized that I could hear new noises coming from his house. This time more of a scraping and a thud than rhythmic banging. Whatever he was doing, he was hard at it, but he’d just have to take a break for a minute until I could get the police to come.
When I went back to his door, he opened it right away. He was sweaty and looked tired, but he still smiled when he saw me. This time when he invited me in, I accepted.
Moving into the foyer and then on into the living room, I had the strangest feeling of familiarity. I didn’t remember ever having been in his house before, but I would turn and know what was where before it actually passed into my view. When I sat on the large sofa in front of the fireplace, I unconsciously gripped the arm as though anticipating the deep sink of the sofa cushion before I actually sank down, as though I had sat there many times before.
Even the smells of the place. The room itself, the scent of food cooking in the adjacent kitchen, Jeff himself, it all seemed so known and so right. I realized I was looking around with something close to wonder and I forced myself to focus back on Jeff, who was studying me intently, his face neutral.
I pulled up my photo gallery app and awkwardly thrust the phone towards him. “Look at this. I found this in…” I realized with a mixture of embarrassment and dim horror that I was still wearing the same jeans I had found the teeth in. Who does that? Why hadn’t I thought to change? “in my house. I found these bloody teeth in my house this morning.”
His eyes widened as he looked at the first picture and swiped to the second. “Where did you find these? I mean, where in the house?”
Fuck. Well, I was going to have to tell the police anyway. “In my jeans. In the pocket. I swear, I have no idea how they got there. I don’t know who would do this or why, and I…” I trailed off as Jeff reached forward and took my hand.
“I know why. I know we agreed I wouldn’t say anything, but I can’t watch you like this any more.” He was staring at me with tears in his eyes, and I felt a stirring of new emotion as I looked at him and squeezed his hand. Then the banging started again.
Jeff stood up, his expression darkening. “Son-of-a-motherfucker. Can’t give us a fucking moment’s peace?” He was stalking out of the living room toward the back of the house when I heard a cracking sound like wood splintering, followed by a loud thud. I stood up and started out toward the hall myself, and that’s when I ran into the naked, bloody man barreling toward the front door.
“Cas! Stop him!” That wasn’t my name, but I felt myself responding to it nonetheless. With a swiftness and certainty of body that my mind didn’t share, I shoved the man back. He stumbled, his eyes widening as he looked at me. He began to let out a strange, horrible wail, his mouth wet and wide as he screamed, and for a moment he seemed unsure whether to go backward to where Jeff was or keep heading toward me and the front door.
That was all the time it took for me to grab a hammer from the hallway table and bring it across his face. The man was a good foot taller than me, and the blow sent his head up and back at a sharp angle as I heard his jaw crack. Instead of feeling horrified, I felt a strange combination of joy and pride at what I had done. When the man tumbled back to the floor, he made a few more mewling sounds of fear and pain, his animal Os of panicked breathing having turned into lopsided ovals with his shattered jaw. Still, I could see well enough into his mouth to see the teethless gums and tongueless root that lived there.
I looked at Jeff, who was walking toward me beaming. “Great job, sweetie. Really great job. I’m sorry, I think I didn’t secure him well enough when you rang the door this time.” He paused as he reached the man, giving him a kick in the head that sent him the rest of the way into unconsciousness. Looking up at me, his eyes were worried again. “Are you okay? Do you remember now?”
I realized I did. Or at least parts. Sitting the hammer back on the table, I folded my arms. “I think? This is my house isn’t it? Our house.” Jeff nodded, smiling wider. “And we’re married. We’ve been married for eight years?”
He chuckled. “Nine last month, but close enough. What else?”
“My name isn’t June, is it? It’s Cassidy.”
Nodding, Jeff stepped around the man and touched my arm gently. “That’s right. June is actually your sister’s name. Or was. She died when you were ten.”
I frowned and nodded at the memory. He was telling the truth. “And we…we have people we take, right? We have a special room for them where we help them?”
He gave my arm a squeeze. “Exactly right. We help them by hurting them.”
I smiled a little at that, but there were still things I didn’t understand. “Why…Why was I over at that house?”
Jeff’s eyes grew sad again as he looked in the direction of the house I had woken up in that morning. “That…well, we’re trying that out to see if it works.” He looked back at me. “Honey, you’re such a wonderful person. So tender-hearted. And we are helping people, you’ve convinced me of that without question. But it’s not an easy thing to do. We have to hurt people so much, take so many lives, and sometimes it just seems to overwhelm you for a little while.”
He sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. “About three years ago, I woke up one morning and you were gone. Not in the house, no note or sign of where you had went. You left your car and cell phone behind.” His lips trembled as he went on. “I was terrified. I searched for you for two days with no luck. Then you called me. You were 200 miles away and had just remembered who you were. I went and got you, and we backtracked your route to try and figure out where you’d gone and why. We found out you’d walked to a bus station and travelled to the town where I picked you up. That you were looking for work and calling yourself your sister’s name.”
I was feeling relief as my memories returned, and his words were helping with that. It was like he was slowly turning on more lights in a vast room. But there were still patches of darkness, and it scared me a little. “Why did I do that? Did we figure it out? What’s wrong with me?”
“It's called a disassociative fugue. As best we can tell, either due to the stress of what we do, or for some other reason maybe, occasionally you just…go away for a little while. The second time was last year, and it was easier to find you. The house next door wasn’t occupied and I found you sleeping there. You still thought you were June, but you kind of remembered me—as your neighbor Jeff.” He laughed ruefully and went on, “It was weird, but we dealt with it. I got you to come over to “visit”, and after a few minutes here you came back to yourself.”
“We talked about it, and took the chance you might go back to the house again if you knew it was available and it was separate from here. So we bought it, and you visit it once a week and I don’t go over there often. What we do here,” he gestured to the man at our feet, “that doesn’t ever go over there. We hoped it would be a safe haven when you needed it, and its working. Well, pretty much at least.”
He stopped and looked apologetic. “I know this is a lot.”
I smiled. “Its okay. It helps.” The man, a carpenter we caught working late and alone two states over last month, started to stir. “We better get him back.” Jeff nodded and between us we started dragging him back into the inner chambers of the house. “I woke up this morning to banging. Was it him?”
Jeff shook his head as he reached back to punch the keypad lock on the door. “No, it was one of the girls. She had pried off part of the wall padding on the outer wall. I don’t know if she was trying to get help or break through the wall, but of course she didn’t make much progress before I stopped her. Poor thing.” He looked sheepish. “Sorry it woke you though. And I can’t believe I didn’t think about you accidently carrying something over there with you. We were doing a shedding yesterday and I guess you just put some teeth in your pocket.”
A “shedding”, I remembered, was when we took one or more of our guests and stripped away parts of their bodies, be it hair and teeth or flesh and limbs. We had found that periodically doing several at the same time was not only a time-saver, but it maximized the fear and despair that was generated by them watching each other take part in the shedding. I now remembered slipping a few of the teeth into my pocket with the idea that they would make an interesting component of a craft project. Maybe even part of a baby rattle when the time was right.
We were going down the short ramp to the main room now, but first we had to get through two more locked doors. At the last door the man had roused enough to limply struggle, but I gave him a stern look and he settled down. I know it’s not always true, but I like to think many of our guests come to see that what we’re doing is for their own good.
This room was my favorite in the house. Thirty feet long and twenty feet wide, it had white tile floors and walls, though both the walls and ceilings had thick layers of heavy-duty padding like you find in padded cells at a mental institution. The padding was pricey, but well-worth it. They are made not just for taking away hard surfaces and sharp edges--they’re excellent soundproofing too.
All told we had 9 guests currently, though two of those would soon be past further help it seemed. I saw the little girl he was talking about, Lisa, who had been prying at the padding. She tried hiding her bloody fingers when we drug the man by, and I gave her a smile and a wink. It was always a blessing to get one so young--before the world had a chance to put more obstacles in their way. I looked at the sigil I had painted on the far end of the room--it reminded me of a child’s drawing of a house with a downward arrow inside, but its power and significance were never lost on me when I saw it. We were doing such good work here.
“You feeling okay? No weirdness or confusion?” Jeff was easing the man over to his spot along the wall, but his eyes were on me. “I might not should have pushed you to remember like I did. We had talked about letting it play out like…”
“…I was sleepwalking, right.” I gave him a grin. “I’m okay I think. And I know it’s hard on you when I get like that. Don’t worry. You take good care of me.”
He secured the man to the railing bolted to the wall and stood again, stretching his back before coming over to me. He gave me a warm hug and I squeezed him back tightly, my heart close to bursting. “We take good care of each other. And we always will.”
We stood like that for a few seconds, our faces buried in the space between us. I felt so lucky. I have love and a purpose. I have…
I pulled back from Jeff a little to look down the room to where that same little girl was tugging desperately at the chains securing her to the wall railing. She really was a firecracker, wasn’t she? Good for her. It was getting to be time for the girl’s first shedding, and the strong-willed ones always benefited the most. Smiling to myself, I turned back and hugged Jeff again.
I’m home.
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