r/mrcreeps

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It doesn’t stop.

I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. Hours. Maybe longer. Time turned soft somewhere along the way, like it melted and slid down the drain with the heat from the bathwater.

“Honey, let me in. You’ve been in there long enough. Mum needs to get ready for work.”

Her voice comes through the door, calm, patient. The way she always sounds when she’s trying not to worry me.

I don’t answer. I can’t.

I lie curled in the bathtub, clothes soaked through, the water long since gone cold. My fingers are wrinkled and pale, trembling against my sides. Across the room, something waits.

I don’t look at it.

I tried, earlier. Just a glance. That was enough.

I squeeze my eyes shut instead, like that can undo it. Like if I stay very still, none of this will be real when I open them again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Is everything okay, sweetie? Come on, talk to me. Whatever happened, we can face it together. I love you.”

My hands fly to my ears, pressing hard until it hurts. It doesn’t block her out. Nothing does. Her voice seeps through bone.

I start crying again. I don’t remember when I stopped the first time.

The sound I make is small. Embarrassing. Like a child.

My gaze slips, betrays me.

The body is still there.

On the tile. Half in shadow. Her head turned at an angle it shouldn’t be. Hair stuck to the dark, drying pool beneath her. One of her shoes is missing. I don’t remember when it came off.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper, though no one in here can hear me.

We were arguing. I don’t even remember what about. Something stupid. Something that shouldn’t have mattered.

She stepped closer. I told her to stop. She didn’t.

So I pushed her.

Just a shove. Not even that hard.

She slipped.

The sound her head made when it hit—

I choke on it, on the memory. My stomach twists.

“It was an accident,” I say, louder this time. The word echoes off the tiles and comes back thinner. Less convincing.

Knockknockknockknockknock.

The door rattles in its frame.

“Open the door,” she says. Her voice is tighter now. Less patient. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

I drag in a breath that doesn’t go all the way down. The air smells wrong. Metallic. Sweet.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

Because if I open the door, she’ll see.

She’ll see what I did.

Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock.

“Whatever you did, we can fix it together,” she insists. “Mum won’t let you fall. Just let me in.”

I let out a broken laugh that doesn’t feel like mine.

Fix it?

My eyes lock on the body again. On her face. On the way her eyes are still open, staring at nothing. At me.

I force myself to move.

The water sloshes as I push up from the tub. My legs feel weak, like they might fold. For a second, I think maybe they will. Maybe that would be easier.

But I don’t fall.

I step out, dripping onto the tile. Each footstep sounds too loud. Too final.

Closer.

I stop a few feet from her.

The body lies twisted on the floor.

My mothers body.

Behind me, the knocking becomes frantic.

“Let me in. Let me in. Let me in.”

The voice cracks on the last word.

I stare down at the corpse.

At the woman who raised me.

At the woman I killed.

Another knock. Hard enough to make the hinges creak.

“Please,” she says, softer now. Right against the door. “I’m right here.”

My skin prickles.

Slowly, I turn my head toward the bathroom door.

The handle rattles under her hand.

“I’m here,” my mother says.

I look back at the body on the floor.

Then at the door.

Then at the body again.

Knock.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

I don’t think I can stay in this room anymore.

I'm tired. I want this to be over.

I think I'm gonna open the door now.

He built her to respond to him until her growing awareness pushes their dynamic into dangerous, shifting territory.

A cube of man made straight lines amongst a sea of free seasoned orange leaves that blew when and if the wind desired them to. Perhaps it was this ominous outlier that should have announced to me the trouble it hid, but I, like any, was drawn in by its alluring scent.

An aroma that beckoned all those sprinkled across the countryside to its doorsteps. As the old decaying sign above the entrance promised, “HANCOCKS BAKERY HAS IT ALL! CAKES, SANDWICHES, COOKIES, & OUR FAMOUS -“ pies. They were renowned from farmer to farmer for their salivating worthy meat pies. My family was no different, as we often ordered from the local bakery once or twice a week. Dining and whining as the fat stuck to our wet gums and oil glistened upon our cracked lips.

Perhaps I could blame my choices on all of this, these inescapable compliments, or the years of meals caking lard upon my throat. But, the real culprit for my meeting with the very owner of such an establishment was my need for commitment, routine, a distraction. I was fresh out of high school, unenrolled and uncertain of who I wanted to be. My life was a ticking bomb, and right choices needed to be made to help move myself forward or else I’d explode. My parents were poor, unfinicially wise, and indebt. It was from these bounds that I began my next step in life, if I wished to enroll into any school, I’d need some sort of wealth to reach from. 

It is from here that I found myself at Hancocks, out of breath from the bike ride, clutching a slightly crumpled resume. It was strange, regardless of all my years of enjoying the bakeries delicacies, that I’d never seen the inside nor met the man himself. I pulled back the heavy wooden door, expecting something as decrypted and decayed as the outside. 

But, I was instead met with a bustling warm cafe. Half heartedly shutting the door behind me, I gazed and drank every last bit of the room in. The walls, much like its exterior, were red brick with the only exception being the large bread making oven behind the counter. Looking down at my feet, the floor reflected a perfect polish, ignorant to any dirty prints left behind by farmers. To the right of me, were multiple oak tables and chairs throughout the room filled with families or old couples enjoying an afternoon treat. My heart began to glow under the already brightly warm chandeliers above. I let my feet lift me several paces to the left, indulging my eyes to take in the various perfect treats in the display cases; cranberry muffins, raspberry cheesecakes, marshmallow cookies, cinnamon buns, apple tarts, steak and cheese meat pies, and dear god, much, much more. A yearning was building deep in my stomach, not only for a taste, but for the opportunity of being a part of all this. All of this magic. 

A soft voice cut through the sparkles caught in my pupils and dragged my soul down from the clouds, “Hello, how can I help you?”. The owner of the simple question was a young man around my age with curly brown hair, and a sharp witty smile. His chin was sprinkled with stubble, and his eyes an extremely charming green. He placed his elbows on the counter and looked up at me, “So hard to choose, isn’t it? Old Hancock really knows how to make people think when it comes to choosing what they want to eat”. His voice was soft and gentle, and I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks rush up with hues of rose by the way he gazed upward at me. I pushed a strand of outlying hair behind my ear, smiling like a fool, “Oh! No, I’m not here- While yes it would be hard to choose, I’m not-“. I took a hollow breath, trying to save what little chance I now had at landing a job here. No one would care for a frazzled woman unable to deliver a clear sentence. “My resume, I’m here to see if you guys are hiring at all?”, I lifted my resume clenched in a tight grip to the charming young man. His smile brightened at this, grabbing it from my sweaty palms and quickly gazing over its contents. 

Reading aloud, as if confirming with me its material, “So, June”- The heat reached my cheeks again at this, “Says you don’t have much experience, but you volunteered at your highschools lunch program”. I nodded, “but I’m a fast learner, and I’m good with people, and I’m uh- I have a great customer winning smile”. I clenched my teeth together tightly and intensely smiled, praying to get a laugh or a smile in response. Spit sputtered from his lips as he let out a small giggle, “Mhm, I can see that. Well, it’s almost like you knew, Hancock's looking for a new member to join our crew.” At this he leaned closer to me and beckoned me to join him, leaning on the counter. I moved in, curiously and listened as he whispered, “Old Hancock and his wife split up, she was in here everyday, just as he was, turns out she found some secrets of his she wasn’t too fond of. Just packed up, and left.” He glanced behind him, worried that even mentioning the old man's misgivings would summon him, “I think he cheated, or did something real illegal because I really thought those two were in love you know. When you see two people living a perfect romance, it's impossible to imagine what could make it end in such a way.. He really was obsessed with her”. I gnawed on my lip, taking all this in, “I don’t want to replace his wife… if that’s what the position is”. He got up from the counter and laughed, “Don’t worry! You won’t! I’m telling you all this so you know what you’re walking into. This place has drama. Mr. Hancock is really beat up over it, but hey, with that award winning smile you showed me, he might make it out okay.” 

A door beside the bread oven creaked open, and out came an older, frankly overweight man. His legs puddled over his feet and his arms stuck out like thin sticks. He turned toward us, and slowly began to approach the counter, each step taking great effort. Upon this, we both immediately stood straight as if caught doing something wrong. As he approached, a pungent sour smell sunk deep into my nostrils making my body electric with repulse. His clothes, that I assume were once white, appeared covered in various stains and burn holes from years of battling ovens, flour or sugar. The thing however that struck me the strongest about this individual, was his face. It was entirely tinted in a purple hue, as if it never got enough blood flow or breath. His head ended with puddles of skin for a chin, and a mess of curly hair with red scabs adorning the scalp. His lips were as thin as pencil lines, showing no smile or frown. His eyes, deep brown, carried an ocean of weight from years of heavy sights. They bore into me as he finished the final step of his travels to the front counter. Suddenly, his lips moved, grumbling and hoarse, “Shane, whatever this is. Help her, and move on. There’s a line.” His eyes never left mine, and I could scarcely look anywhere but his. They were deep pools that one could drown in the sorrows sprouting within. “Well sir, this is June, and she was just dropping off her resume for that position we need filling”, Shane's voice still emanating with warmth interrupted. Hancock's eyes shifted slowly down my face, to my neck, breasts, torso, legs, finally landing on the resume on the counter. He smiled, barely glancing over the fine print before looking back up my body to my face. I forced a smile, “I’m a real hard worker sir an-“ “Tomorrow, 5am” he interrupted. His pencil thin lips parting to bare rotten teeth in his wicked smile, "Competitive wage, and I’ll teach you everything I know”. My heart began racing, but I wasn’t certain if it was from excitement or fear, most likely both. “I’ll be there!” His eyes bore back into mine, “Oh, I don’t doubt it. I look forward to it”. 

Riding the heavy waves of uncertain emotions, I back tracked through the short line of waiting customers. Quickly waving to Shane as I opened the door, it felt far heavier than before and exiting the thick pie perfumed air. I stood, my back pressed against the cool wood of the door for a moment, catching the breath I didn’t know I lost. Closing my eyes, I retraced the memories of that short interaction, I got the job so I should be excited shouldn’t I? So, why was I so grief stricken? A small little voice whispered below me, “Excuse me dear, are you alright? You’re blocking the door to get in”. I opened my eyes to find a little old woman wearing a small yellow dress clutching a blue purse. Her adorable face, and soft features made my heart melt, “Yes, I’m fine! I just got hired here and am taking it all in”. She smiled, and it was as if I was now speaking with an angel, “That’s very exciting dear, I believe my son made the right choice with you.. Hunter is a great baker, but an even greater man. You’ll love it my dear”. Upon these words the clouds parted in my skull, and I realized my fears were unfounded; Mr. Hancock came from a gentle woman of flesh and blood, and granted me a job that my lack of experiences shouldn’t have afforded. I brightened, “Thank you for your kind words Ms. Hancock”, “Oh please, call me Ms. Hancockadoo, I hate how Hunter has shortened it” and with that, she pushed past me, opening the old wooden door into the shop. I took this new high of emotions and traced the fields and blue horizon home.

The First
The morning was spent with me buzzing across my room with nerves and frantically tearing apart my wardrobe for something worthy of such an occasion. I landed on going with a light grey tanktop, and a tight pair of jeans, mainly because I was out of time to experiment with further combinations. I swallowed down a jellyclumped piece of burnt toast as I biked down the green valleys and fire tipped autumn trees towards the bakery. I arrived at the entrance just seconds before my shift was meant to begin and quickly raced through the front door. Although unlocked, the warmth that emulated from the room before was now cold and metallic. All the lights were off, leaving it hard to navigate as the door shut out the early sunlight behind me. I found myself engulfed in black, darkness swallowing me whole and spitting me out in uncertainty. I called out, “Hellooo! Mr. Hancock, it's June… I’m here for that shift you mentioned yesterday!” No response came, and so, thinking he was in the room he appeared from yesterday with headphones on, I slowly began navigating the dark. 

Blindly bumping into chairs, and tables with my arms outstretched, trying to recall the layout from my brief intake yesterday. “Hellooo! Mr. Han-” I shut my mouth, tasting and inhaling what can best be described as rotten onions and urine. I reached what I presumed to be the entrance to the counter and began following the back wall until I finally came into contact with the bread oven. Letting out a sigh of relief, I let my hands follow the metal slates of the oven until I heard breathing. Sharp, tortured breaths that could be heard right behind me. The smell became unbearable at this moment, making my eyes water. I froze, feeling all the little hairs on my body stick straight up, electrified. A few of these upright hairs began blowing on my left shoulder, warmth tickled that spot with each new exhale. My body began vibrating in fear, unsure what to do, I kept moving forward, trying to get closer to that back door. Fingers moving from metal slate to brick, I felt my pace quicken. The breathing never ceased and in fact grew hotter and steadier the closer I approached my exit. I felt trapped in a thick smog of something rotting, the sensation was collapsing all around me. The newest breath was accompanied by a footstep, heavy and hard to soften. But it provided so much weight into the room, that my legs fled into action racing for the back door. 

The tips of my fingers still tracing the wall dipped into a hard wood surface, I reached around the frame rapidly searching for a handle to turn. Tears forming in the corners of my eyes, frantic heartbeats engulfing my body while my ears and nose suffered to the heavy breaths coating my skin. Finally my hands reached an orb of metal and twisted, I found myself in a brightly lit new space. I turned to shut the door, but it got caught with a hand pushing it open. The darkness obscured the figure and I fell back crawling away in fear. Sweat permeating on my brow, and eyes fearful of whoever this intruder might be. The hand was large, with each finger the size of a sausage, purple from affixation, and nails overgrown and black from dirt. My heart was beating in my throat, I finally reached a wall and pushed myself as far as possible from the door. Eyes searching the abyss for a figure, some owner to the flesh which wedged the door. “Are you ready for your first day, Junebug?” said Hancock entering the room, pulling his hand away from the door. His lips curled into a wicked smile, “What’s got you all sweaty and heavy like that princess?”, licking his lips at the final point. I kept myself backed into the wall, heart barely calming under his presence, stammering “I-breathing, someone was behi- was it you? Were you behind me in there?”. He glanced into darkness, laughing a little, “I just got here, my apologies for being a little late. What you must of felt was the bread oven fan. Gets me everytime Junebug”. From that, he flipped on the lights, and beckoned me to follow him. I hesitantly got up and followed the man into the room, and approached the oven. Hot air blowing onto my face, my tight fear loosened, perhaps it really was just a fan, and with my heightened alertness, I imagined the rest. He took his hand and cupped my face, wiping away sweat with the other, “I won’t let anyone hurt you here. Don’t worry”. I felt uncomfortable, and wanted to get away, his eyes bore into mine. “Use the backdoor from now on, okay? Now let’s get started”. He let go of his grip, and moved on, letting me catch my breath and mental energy. I gave myself a small hug and closed my eyes grounding into the moment, whispering “You’re okay, you’re okay, everything is fine”. His husky voice called, “You coming Juney?” “Yep! Right behind you!”, and I slowly entered what felt like a tomb. 

The rest of the morning was spent learning the layout of the bakery, where each tool sits, and ingredient. It was refreshing to watch the man who only moments ago I deeply feared, become somewhat normal and comfortable to be around. As if he flicked a switch, and began solely focusing on taking me through the steps of his everyday routine. It wasn’t until we reached a door in the back hall of the bakery that his giddiness burnt out, “Now, Juney, you’ll never have to go into this room. It’s the meat cutting, and grinding room. We usually get large orders of beef, and poultry brought into here. Not only is it a lawsuit waiting to happen if you hurt yourself on the machine, but it also reeks. I would hate it if you got any of that bloody shit all over you”. He turned, giving me a sharp smile, I nodded trying to avoid eye contact. He leaned in closer so I could feel his hot breath on my lips, “Don’t ever go in there, can you do that for me June?”. A door suddenly opened and shut from the front entrance, and his eyes flickered to where a new surge of voices erupted. He leaned away and began heading toward the disruption, calling behind him, “It’s the boys June, they come in early everyday for a cup of joe before their long work shifts in the fields. You’ll love 'em’, real kind gentlemen. We go way back”. I followed behind him, feeling secretly thankful for the new visitors. When I entered the cafe space, I came across three older men pulling various chairs out for themselves to sit on, with Hancock sitting right beside them. 

He waved me over, “Boys! Boys! Now do I ever have a pretty new employee named June. Today’s her first day, and we’re gonna make it real special for her ain’t we by being real nice!” He winked towards the other three men, and I awkwardly waved. The shortest of the three men looked me up and down before saying in a scratchy voice, “Oh June, ain’t you something special I’m Harry, and that guy with the beard is Nick, and to my left is Winslow”. Winslow interjected, “But you can call me daddy”, “Ignore them they’re just being creepy old guys who miss flirting with pretty women” said Nick. As the men continued to stare and comment on my appearance, I couldn’t help but notice how much Hancock's brow furrowed, his lips curling into a deep noticeable frown. I felt uncomfortable, and wanted to shrink into the back room away from these prying old eyes. 

“Oh June, I bet you get all the pretty boys at school eh” “Ever been with a real man before”, the three men chuckled, “I’ve been doing it before you were even born!”. The men’s voices mixed together in waves of insults and sexual desires while their eyes traced my body. I was frozen, and mere moments from breaking when someone did that very thing themselves. “NOW BOYS!” Hancock's voice echoed across the room, he was standing now staring daggers into all three. “Now I don’t appreciate you talking to my new employee like that. How would you like it if I went around talking to your wives as such? She ain’t your object.” The fury never left his eyes, as the three men sat silently. Without even turning to me, he said in a softer tone, “Go home Junebug, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got to teach these boys a lesson in manners”. My eyes caught Harry shrunken in his chair shaking, while the other two men held their faces in their hands. I turned to look at Hancock, but his face was unchanged with a single arm outstretched pointing towards the door. I quickly left, mounting my bike and getting the hell out of whatever that mess of a first day was. I could have sworn once I passed the block that I heard a scream emerging into the sky behind me. 

Later that night, I found myself curled in a blanket watching videos on my phone. Unmoving, unavailable emotionally, and unsure about what my next steps should be at Hancocks. I wanted to go back and learn more, but so far it's been a rollercoaster of fear and the greatest extent of how gross men can be. They’re not all horrible though, there’s Shane. My video cut out at this thought to a message notification, 

Hey, you okay? Hancock told me he sent you home early.
It’s Shane by the way :)

How’d you get my number?

Your resume silly. Are you coming in tomorrow? 

Yeah probably! Are you working?

Always. I practically live here.

Lol. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.

Kk, see you then. Goodnight!

I suddenly felt butterflies in my stomach, and grew extremely hopeful for my future at the bakery. Besides, my family has been begging me to bring home some fresh pies anyway. 

Tomatoes
The next couple weeks working at Hancocks went by pretty uneventfully. With me hyperfocusing on learning all the little tips and tricks that he wanted to bestow upon me. Even the morning shifts went by without a hitch, as Hancock told me he banned those three greasy guys from ever coming back. I was beginning to get into a routine, with baking in the early morning, stocking in the late morning, and hanging with Shane while helping customers the rest of the shift. Hancock always gave me freebies to take home, and started to lay off the creepy interactions and nicknames. Shane reassured me that the poor man just missed his wife, and was acting strange initially because of that. I really started to love my job, and began to feel the memories of fear washing away with each new sunrise. 

That was until a customer approached me in the latter part of my shift today, “Excuse me! Excuse me! Listen lady you fucked up my sandwich”. I turned from the bread oven, finding the owner of this tongue, a beet red man with a squished face trampling his way to the front of the line. “Hey! I’m allergic to tomatoes, and what the fuck is on here? Fucking tomatoes! Are you trying to kill me lady?” I opened my mouth to respond, but Shane rushed to my side, “Hey dude, we can fix that for you, no problemo. No need to use that tone with her.”. He twisted his head to glare at Shane, “Listen here asshole, she could have killed me. I could have died, I want this bitch to get on her hands and knees and apologize.” It was Shane this time that got cut off, as a heavy voice filled the room from behind us, “What was that I just heard?”. The beet red man shrunk a little at this booming voice, with the rest of the busy conversation going quiet in the cafe. Mr. Hancock entered the room and approached the man slowly, moving around the counter to stand over him. No one moved as his eyes dug graves into the smaller man. “Listen man, I don’t want any tr-“, Hancock put his heavy hands on the man's shoulders, “Come into the back and try our new pies, it’s the least we can do”. His fingers were squeezing so hard that you could hear the man's bones popping out of place. “No.. no.. that’s okay, please- no I don’t wa-“ “I insist”, and with that, he picked up the man by the shoulders to the back room. All eyes followed the pair until the door shut behind them, silence echoed from table to table, no one dared move. Behind the door, a man crying could be heard with sputtered pleas and snotty mucus dribbling down his chin. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, when suddenly the background music kicked in, and another group of customers entered the store gawking and talking about their choice of sweets. This immediately bubbled around the room, bringing the atmosphere back to its busy hustle and bustle. It was like everyone forgot about the man, or no longer cared about the outcome of his life. But I did. 

I stormed into the back, unsure of what to do, but letting bravery take the wheel. Where I was expecting to see a corpse or perhaps even a man eating pie, I merely saw Mr. Hancock standing alone washing his hands. I let my spirit lead me directly in front of him, “Where is he? What happened?” He eyed me wearily, a smile dancing on his lips, “You’re so sexy when you’re mad Junebug, did you know that?”. I eyed him angrily, letting my fearlessness rush through my lungs, “Enough of that. Where is that man?”. He rolled his eyes, and grabbed a towel wiping the water away, “I took him back here and told him he was officially banned from ever coming back”. I squinted at him, “and you expect me to believe that?” He dropped the towel on the floor and took a step towards me, closing the distance, “You know princess, you’re pissing me off. You should be grateful, that guy was bothering you and now he’s not”. I backed up a little, my glare loosing its grip, “What did you d-“ “He left- now quit calling me a fucking murderer or whatever it is you think I did, and get back to work”. His eyes dragged me away and forced my hand to the front counter, out of breath and drained. 

“June, you okay? You look a little out of it. We’re you able to figure out what happened?” Shane was facing me, warm features searching mine. “No, Hancock said he left. I don’t know what I was looking for, but the man was gone.” Shane brightened, “Good riddance, he really was out to get you, Mr. Hancock must have really scared him into shape.”. He put his hand to his chin, playing with a small birthmark that idled there, “I bet he convinced him to write you an apology letter or something, that’s probably why he rushed out..” “I don’t know Shane, don’t you think he was holding him a little hard? I think he hurt him. I’m worried”. His emerald stare cut through my grime gaze, “Oh June, I’m sure everything is fine. Mr. Hancock can’t afford to hurt anyone, or else this place would be closed. It’s too easy to get caught doing stupid stuff like that when everyone knows you”. He held my hands, “Tomato guy is fineee, I promise. Now get out of your head and help me with these customers”. I smiled a little, Shane truly has the gift to get me out of my own head. I really appreciated this about him, his ability to always be upbeat, and not overthink. I turned back to the oven, finishing the job I set out to do before that man interrupted. When my eye caught the back door slightly a crack with a purple face poking out in a tight scowl, eyes swimming in watery blue. 

The Date 
I was wiping down the tables while Shane finished the dishes from the countless tidal waves of orders that we were met with. Mr. Hancock was somewhere in the back prepping the dough for tomorrow's bake, or at least that’s what I assumed, as I hadn’t seen him the past week since that explosion between us. I was humming a tune, debating if I should apologize for my assertions of his actions. When the water cut off from the sink, and Shane made a large yawning gesture, “Oh man, I’m exhausted. That was a crazy rush”. I smiled watching him stretch out his entire body, catching small glimpses of his lower abs when his shirt rose. I bit my lip, and lowered my eyes to the table, scrubbing out the final grease stains that laid there. “Is it always this busy?” “I mean, yeah, but fall is always when things seem to etch that extra notch of crazy”. He turned to me, “You know what? I think we need a break!”. He emphasized this by standing on the table I was wiping down. “What do you mean Shane” I giggled, “I can’t afford anytime off, and you certainly can’t!”. He scoffed, “Nah, I don’t mean a break from work, I mean a break at a fancy diner, you, me, and a plate of nachos” he sat down and looked into my eyes. I blushed, “This sounds an awful lot like a date”. He beamed at me, “Maybe, because that’s what it is. So what do you say, let me pick you up tonight?”. “Hmm, I don’t know” I said walking away grinning ear to ear, “I have this thing, and that.. and my new sho-“ “Come on June, I’ll even pay!” he preached jumping off the table. “Okay, since you’re breaking the bank, I’m in. What time will you pick me up?” He grinned, “I’ll message you. Not sure how late he’ll keep me here.” The back door slammed at this, and we both turned to see it rocking on its hinges. “Damn fan, always making things rock and roll around here” said Shane smiling. “Wear something special June!” I dropped my cloth in the sink, and waved goodbye as I headed for the door. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I never said an apology to Mr. Hancock. 

The Final
Around seven, I started to put on a little makeup and search through my closet for something cute to wear. My heart was in heaven, and I couldn’t slow the beats down for a second. I was going on a date with Shane, the one and only man who makes my soul sing and eyelashes flutter. Not only that, but he was the one who asked me out, so he must think I’m something special too. I grabbed my phone and scanned the time, it was already eight, and I still hadn’t received a single message about him being late or stuck at work. Radio silence. I nervously typed,

Hey, still waiting to hear from you. I’m getting hungry. 

I feared that maybe I was stood up, because what other explanation could keep him away from his phone to update me on what was happening. Besides, he knew I had work early in the morning tomorrow and couldn’t afford to be out late. I was about to wipe off my makeup when my phone dinged. I jumped for it, quickly opening my message conversation with Shane. 

Hunter kept me late.

Shane, what about our date? 
and why are you calling Mr. Hancock by his first name lol?

Because it's what his name is. You should call him that.

Oh okay lol, if you say so. 

Meet me at the bakery.
I have a surprise for you Junebug. 

Right now? It’s so late. We can just reschedule.. 

I’ll make it worth it. 

Okay.. :)

Although his messages were a little more out of his character than usual. I assumed he was exhausted from the day of work, and just wanted to make it up to me by doing something a little more simple at the shop. My mind spiraled, what could the surprise be? While biking over, my brain conjured up feelings of what Shane's lips would feel like, and if he’d make the first move or if I would. What he would say when he saw my pretty little outfit and face all done up. My heart raced, and my bike could barely keep up the speed. I was so excited that I threw my bike on the lawn, and ran up to the front door. Pulling up my phone before entering to confirm my presence, 

I’m here. Coming through the front.

I opened the door to be met with a view that would leave any girl weak in the knees. The entire bakery was covered in candles all brightly lit and illuminating a path to the middle of the room. All the tables and chairs were pushed back with only a table and two chairs standing by the flickering romantic light. I held my hand to my mouth in awe, slowly approaching this end destination. A smell so sweet and alluring led me closer and closer, and as if floating I landed in one of the two chairs. Just before I could take anything more in about the scene,  I let my nose linger above the scent which drove my tastebuds wild. I was starving, and the smell was driving me mad. I stole a small glance down at the pie I knew was before me, and froze in horror. The pies crust was a human face. The blotchy leatherlike skin sewn into the sides was pieced together with a large nose sticking out, two eye sockets hollow and gory, and a pair of lips drooping and barely parted. Red blood oozed from each pore, and dribbled out of the eyes and mouth. The face caught in a moment of horror, seemed to be crying for help. My throat strangled itself as my lungs went stiff. It was Shane’s face. I couldn’t move, every part of my body beckoned me to run, hide, scream, do anything. But I couldn’t. I truly was frozen in fear, tears falling in large clumps down my cheeks. 

”Do you like it?” asked Hancock menacingly as he sat down. “I did it special for you princess”, My eyes wet stared into him, so much hate and fear wallowed behind their gaze. “I’m always protecting you from all these onlookers. When they should know that you’re mine…” He bit his lip drinking in my appearance, “From the moment I laid eyes on you Junebug, I knew you were something special. God you’re so fucking beautiful tonight.” My brows furrowed, the hot hate was growing stronger, “You’r-“. He leaned over and put a large finger to my lips shushing me, “None of that now, don’t ruin this moment. I have a very special deal for you”. I shot daggers at his face, pushing off his sausage finger from my lips. “Oh June, I love that fire in you. I want to be with that fire forever. But, you.. have to love me too..” He exhaled, as if the next part would really pain him, “If you don’t love me, or if you ever stop loving me, I’ll- I’ll have to kill you”. My face twisted harder, fear rushing over my veins, “You- you can find someone else. I- what would people say- I- I’m so much younger than you.. they’d nev-never believe it”. He frowned, “Doesn’t matter what other people say, my mama has already approved of you Junebug”. He smiled, “I have done so much for you already, the older men were easy to overpower… but that boy” he glanced down at the pie below me “was a real fighter”. My hands curled into tight fists, unsure if my tiny frame could overpower him, but willing to try. His blue eyes bore into mine, “So, what’s it gonna be princess.” I let out a long breah, not losing my stare, I didn’t want to die, but a life stuck with him was the same as signing a death warrant. I was shaking in fear, but vibrating in anger, as my voice clearly delivered, “I could never love a fucking monster like you”. 

He immediately dropped his stare, and grabbed my hair in a tight squeeze. My hands reflexively grabbed his arm trying to remove some of the tight pain emerging from my scalp. He pulled me out of my chair, knocking it over in the process, dragging me through the back door towards the long hall. I screamed in agony as I felt strands of hair be pulled deep out of my skull. “Wrong fucking choice”, another scream left my mouth as he lifted me higher, no longer dragging but carrying my form solely by hair, “Oh shut the fuck up, this hurts me more than it hurts you”. He opened the door at the end of the hall, and threw me inside. I found myself in a pile of mush, slipping at each attempt to get up. My hands, legs, and back were coated in stickiness as I tried to approach his form blocking the door. He laughed, and pulled a small metal chain above him unveiling the contents of the room around me. There were piles of shattered bones, and guts with blood splatters adorning the walls. A large machine coated in black mold and oily residue stood in the middle. I could spy sharp saws, and a large press from my vantage point, and realized this was a fucking human lathe, a meatcanyon. My eyes finally made their way to the mess I was in, bloody intestines wrapped around my ligaments, and thick coagulated blood painted my skin. The smell was unbearable and my stomach was threatening to release its contents. In this bloody pile, I broke, my emotions went a wire, and I began to sob and snot as I faced Hancock before me, “You’re fucking sick! You’re gonna get caught for your crimes, you freak! You si-“ His face hardened and he grabbed me by the arm, easily lifting me onto his shoulder. He slammed me hard onto the grated surface of the machine, and flicked some switches on the console. The machine jolted awake, and began pressing down heavy blocks hard to my right. I struggled to get up, but he slammed me down harder, grabbing one of my hands in the process and out stretching it to the pounding metal. I sobbed, and tried to break free, but he wouldn’t let me budge. The heavy metal landed on my hand, crushing it into a muddled mess of blood, skin, and shards of what were once bones. I let out a blood curdling scream, I didn’t want to die. Not like this. Tears streamed down my face, my brain couldn’t form a single thought. I felt hopeless, and helpless, there was no way for me to get out of this mess… unless I loved him. I grasped at this small thought and jumped onto him, kissing his thin lips, and catching him off guard. His grip softened, as he wrapped his arms around my back, feeling parts of my body. My hand, and the clump of one, raised themselves to his face, cupping his cheeks and grabbing tight. Just as he pulled away for breath, I pulled his head under the pounder, my hands sacrificing themselves to keep him there. “What the fu-“ SLAM! A sickening crunching and splattering sound could be made beneath the weight. When the pounder lifted, nothing was left but a gurgling pulpy mess. My hands destroyed, I fell back in a daze. Watching as his body jolted with each new crunch on his skull. He was dead, there was not a doubt in my mind. I stood numbly watching each jolt with a sick bit of amusement. 

I then stumbled out, covered in blood and a newly broken woman. SLAM! SLAM! Listening to my heartbeats match the rhythm of the grotesque machine I was leaving behind. I slowly made my way through the candle lit cafe, knocking over countless flames onto the floor along my route. Each step I took, I felt a hot heat emerge behind me. The once romantic scene was an inferno of devilish heat swirling and choking the remnants inside. I lifted the heavy wooden door and shut it. Taking a moment to lean against its cool polish. Closing my eyes, I started to quietly sob. My legs carried me to the lawn beside my bike, until they finally gave out from under me. I lay there, my back against the green grass watching the building of brick burn. The heats colours dancing in yellows, oranges, and reds. My eyes flickered shut, as the thick smoke carried itself into the sky breaking the allurement of Hancocks Bakery across the countryside. The magic I felt was long dead for this place, and now the world would know about it too. I let my brain nod out to the light poundings that could be heard through the fire, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep. 

The End