Chapter 5: Hell on Earth

When we arrived, calling the scene ‘hell on earth’ wouldn’t have been an exaggeration.

The victim, Lila, lay naked on her back on the bed, her limbs tied to the bedposts, lips parted, a deep bloody gash across her neck.

That wound was like a faucet left running, draining every last drop of blood from her body.

Lila had been full and robust, like the hostas blooming in the yard—thick and strong, even under the hard sun and wind.

Now, she was a size smaller, like sugarcane after it’s been pressed dry—pale, wrung out. Only her lips, thickly painted with lipstick, kept their shocking red, as if they were whispering a secret the world could never know.

The sticky heat pressed against our skin, and the metallic scent of blood made my stomach churn. The window fan spun uselessly, whining against the weight of tragedy. Even the old dog, who usually barked at every stranger, lay cowering under the porch, as if the violence had seeped into the earth itself.