Blood Hill Road Read online

  Blood Hill Road

  Blood Hill Road

  Midpoint

  Blood Hill Road

  by F Michael Rodriguez

  Published by F Michael Rodriguez at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2017 F Michael Rodriguez

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit your favorite ebook retailer to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Horror, with all its relentless terror, lived in Blood Hill Road. Its rumors crept deep. Choked by them, a cry in the street corners, apartments or rooftops, in the crowded prison of the hood, meant survival or terrible death. Its presence was thick with the taste of metal, and it carried the scent of gun powder.

  Invisible as air, its streets trailed the scent of murder under a plump pale moon where the sidewalks crumbled into cracked stones like the aftermath of an earthquake.

  Through the dark, moon-lit alleys, the quick staggering steps of a mugger rushed with barely the sound of his clothes flapping against the wind.

  And the mugger vanished deep to the black corners with his victim.

  Others had witnessed of the cruel, silent depths of those streets.

  Buried with secrets, Blood Hill Road was never dead. In the night, under a high hunter’s moon, horror was busy. Rapists, the lowest of the low, arrested with a desperate snatch of perverted lust. Players of the street music, they blended with the moans, dripping and kicking’s that were punctuated by the shocked squeals of the taken.

  In the high windows of a project building, shadowed by trees and a starless night sky, a boy whispered his lowly call. Alerted, a young man began to walk faster.

  A fear stirred with a breeze, then was gone, like the single breath of a child.

  The boy broke from the window with swift feet.

  Near the alley, while the hooded boy pounced and the young man died, an old gray house with broken porch slept in the shadows. Miles away, rising over a dirt hill, a proud white house stood watchful day and night.

  Between them, swarming with life, blunt with death, Blood Hill Road laid its line.

  Many years later …

  The baby was crying for her life. Maggy heard it in her sleep; the temperamental outburst, the kicking of little legs under soft fleece. She felt the ache in her stomach, a growling in the belly, almost as if she was pregnant all over again. Her breasts were ready to burst with milk upon awakening.

  She jumped up without thought. It honored her—like full nutbags, the tenderness of her breasts. So much purpose in them. Her baby cried and she would satisfy.

  She crossed to the couch, lifted the black robe draped over its back. She drew in the scent of French Lavender pods—her favorite—streaming out of a flameless diffusing candle that had been a wedding present.

  Before Anthony, she’d been content to spray perfume onto to wild flowers.

  If Anthony had been home, he would have jumped up as well. Though she would have insisted, have landed a hand on his chest as she told him to stay, to sleep, as well as to help herself get up, he would have wandered up to his adorable little girl before she’d finished Marie’s midnight feeding.

  He was missing from her—an ache in her heart. She missed him, even if he would be back the next day. She would start watching for him in the morning, waiting to hear the sound of the key fob turning off the car.

  With complete disregard to anyone’s opinions, she would run out madly in love to meet him. Her heart would melt, oh, and it always did, when he exited his Kia Niro and lifted her off her feet into his tight hug.

  And at night, they would dance.

  She hummed to herself as she turned on an LED lantern, shining the way as she moved to the bedroom door, out into the hallway of the house where she had once been servant and was now, well, if not daughter of the house at least the wife of its oldest son.

  The nursery was upstairs. That was a battle she'd fought with Anthony's mother, and lost. Mayra had definite rules about the way things work, home matters, traditions. Mayra, Maggy thought as she moved quickly and quietly past the other bedroom doors, had a command for everything. Certainly that a two-month-old baby belonged in the nursery, under her watchful care and not in a crib tucked into the corner of her son’s bedroom, disturbing his sleep.

  Maggy suspected and was convinced that she had a another reason neatly tucked away behind her stern decisions and that was to keep her baby as far away from her mother as possible.

  Lantern light flickered and flashed against the walls as Maggy climbed the flight of stairs. It pained her heart that after six weeks of keeping Marie she’d have to survive such as distance. But she’d make any sacrifice to honor her husband and respect his mother’s wishes, even if it contradicted her needs. She’d travel miles in a heartbeat to see her baby.

  Marie had spent her first nights in a cradle carved by her grandfather, a tiny cherub with her doting and nervous parents close by.

  Maggy knew Mayra would also demand her daughter’s respect for their ways. But she was determined that Marie would also respect her mother’s family, and learn their ways, however simple they were.

  Mayra had complained about the baby, about the homemade cradle, about Maggy being a stay home mom now that she had Marie looked after, so constantly that she and Anthony had given in. It was, Anthony said, the way a woodpecker pecks at a tree. It won’t stop until it digs a hole into it.

  The baby spent her nights in the nursery now, in the crib made in Spain, where Torres babies had slept for a century.

  It didn’t sit well with Maggy, letting Mayra replace a heirloom for a proper arrangement. Her little Marie was a Torres. She would be wrapped in elegance.

  And as Mayra had made it clear, time and time again, other members of the household were not to have their sleep disturbed by fretful cries. However such matters were done in the Blood Hill Road, here in the Torres house, children were tended where they belonged.

  Her lips curled whenever she said Blood Hill Road, as if it were a word to be spoken only in whore houses and bars.

  It didn’t matter that Mayra hated her, that her husband ignored her. It didn’t matter than Ralph looked at her the way no man should ever look at his brother’s wife.

  Anthony loved her.

  Nor did it matter anymore that Marie slept the nights away from her. Whether separated by a wall or a floor, she felt Marie’s needs close enough. They had a bond that could never be broken.

  Mayra may win battles, but Maggy knew she herself had won the war. She had Anthony and Marie.

  Night lights were glowing in the nursery. Jenny, the nursemaid, was already up. She was already warming up a warm bottle of infant formula for Marie, as the baby’s fists shook with rage.

  “She’s not trying to wait.” Maggy set the lantern down and was baby talking as she crossed the room, her arms read to pick her up.

  “Oh, I have a bottle ready.” Jenny, a pretty Mexican girl with a bright smile, gave the baby’s leg a soft caress. “She just started to cry. It’s amazing how you hear her from all the way downstairs.”

  “I can feel her in my heart. It’s okay now, sweet muffin, Mama is here.”

  "Diaper's wet.”

  “I’ll change her.” Maggy rubbed her cheek on the baby’s and smiled. Jenny was a friend, someone she trusted. Having her in the household gave Maggy the comfort and companionship she never received from Anthony’s family.

  “Go back to bed, honey. Once she’s done she’ll sleep
till morning.”

  “She’s the sweetest thing.” Jenny brushed fingertips through Marie’s curly hair. “If you don’t need me, maybe I’ll take a walk up to the mountain. Ben, he’ll be there.” Her dark eyes lit. “We made plans, if I can get away, for us to spend some time together tonight.”

  “You should marry him.”

  “I’ll make him marry me. Can I go meet him, Maggy?”

  “You go ahead sweetheart, but you be careful you don’t get bit by snakes, and watch them crows,” she said as she prepared to change Marie’s wet diaper.

  “Thanks a million! I’ll be back before three.” Jenny started out through the door and glanced back. “Maggy? You ever thought that you’d be mistress of this house one day?”

  “I’m no mistress.” She ticked Marie’s toes and had her gurgling. “But the one who is will probably live to a hundred and fifty just to make sure I never become one.”

  “I can see that. But you will be, one day. You’re the lucky one, Maggy, and I’m glad I’m here to see it.”

  Alone with the baby, Maggy tickled and cooed. She powdered and smoothed, then tidily fastened the new diaper. When Marie was tucked into a fresh gown and swaddled, Maggy settled in the rocker, bared her breast for that tiny, starving mouth. Those greedy tugs, the little tears that rolled off the side of her eyes, made her sigh. Yes, she'd fallen into good fortune. Anthony, a successful Author and the shining knight in her own personal fairy tale, had fallen in love with her.

  She bent her head to her baby’s green eyes, wide open, fixed on her mother’s face. She could see the sense of relief on Marie’s face.

  They were green just like Anthony’s. The baby’s hair was dark brown like her own. Dark brown and curling, but her skin was like sand—again like her papa rather than the milky white of her mama.

  She would have the best of both of them, Maggy thought.

  She would have the best of all they could offer.

  But there was much more than being well off, a very comfortable house, living in a much safer environment. It was the acceptance, even if it didn’t come from everyone. Her daughter would grow up safe, healthy and looking forward to promising careers.

  They’d be iconic social figures, worthy of being looked up upon.

  “You’ll be a doctor, an actress or a lawyer,” Maggy murmured, stroking the baby’s soft cheek as Marie’s finger scratched at her mother’s lips. “Whatever you’d be, you will be a fine, educated woman, pretty, too. Daddy will be home tomorrow. He’s asleep now, miles and miles away, dreaming of you darling.”

  Her voice was soft, with a lulling rhythm to inspire calmness on anyone.

  “What do you think about living in Texas, Marie? Your daddy is looking for a new job over there? He’ll make a fine janitor. Should we throw him a welcome back home party?

  She leaned back, rocking in the glow of the candles.

  She thought of a welcome back home party the next evening, and how she would dance with Anthony, how her gown would sweep and swirl as he lifted up her in the air.

  How she would make any troubles vanish into thin air.

  And she remembered the first time he lifted her up high in the air.

  In the summer, the chorus of birds filled the sky, and the house smelled of fresh paint. She’d sneaked into the pond out back, away from her prison in Blood Hill Road, because she found so much peace there. The way the stars clustered together in the clear night sky, and all around it, a circle of trees. It was the only time and the only place that she was able to dream.

  She’d imagine herself inside that mansion of a house, whirling, dancing, to the music of her own mind. But lying on a fresh bed of grass and looking up at the starry sky was just as wonderful. And that how Anthony found her, asleep on the grass near the pond one early morning.

  She was living her own fairy tale. The handsome prince who woke up the common girl was lost deep in the woods. She’d had no pretty dress, no jewelry to décor her hair, but the day would start full of magic and love.

  Love had begun with her first glimpse of him, with his green eyes hovering over her. The way the morning glow had shone through the leaves and on his face, lighting him up like an angel. His cousin followed behind him — Robert — but her eyes could not leave Anthony’s face.

  Ever since they’d go out together, just as friends first, but they knew it was love at first sight. But people living in New Haven kept a reputation about who they let into their community of high end achievers.

  He’d treated her with respect and kindness, whenever they spent time together. But she knew there was an asking in his eyes about her. Not the way Robert spoke, with flirting and perverted remarks. But, she liked to think now, as if he had found his soul mate. And she definitely found hers.

  In the months that went by she would visit him often. He’d always make himself available to her. She always knew that, in spite of his mother’s reservations, he never let that get in the way of them building a bond. Even building a relationship that would last forever.

  But it had really begun the night of Valentine’s Day. After they movie at the theatre ended, he’d hold his gaze on her eyes, just a little longer. Then he looked away and smiled, as a show of friendship and respect. He kissed her cheek.

  Then, just she thought that was it, that the night would dim, he cradled the cheek he’d kissed with his warm hand. Began to wine and dine her, to make her laugh. The streets, the places, even the stars paid tribute to the energy between them.

  As if they were becoming more than friends, seamlessly, Maggy thought now with a smile. As if it were supposed to happen just the way it did, for Anthony to lose his heart to Maggy that morning in the woods.

  They’d walked through the woods many nights after that. Inside the house, Mayra met Maggy with sternness and wanted to rid of her at every turn. But outside, whatever the seasons, whatever the weather, they enjoyed the woods and the city as young lovers, sharing their hopes, dreams, sorrows and joys.

  On her eighteenth birthday he brought her a gift, secured around her neck as she closed her eyes. The pocket watch had an astronomical design and tiny planets marked the position of the planets on the day and time they first met.

  Then he’d kneeled and asked her if she would want to be his wife.

  How painful it was, to want him for a husband while knowing that his family disapproved of her upbringing, especially his mother. She wanted better for him, a career woman with a full family, an important family.

  Hers was from the ghetto and fractured, with many parental roles missing.

  She remembered now how he’d laughed at her every joke, how his face lifted with joy. How could he be too good for her when she brought out the best in him, something no other woman could? If there were any woman who deserved him, it’d be her.

  “So now we have each other, and you,” Maggy whispered and shifted the drowsing baby to her shoulder. “And if this family can’t stand me, so what? We’re happy together.”

  She turned her face into the soft curve of Marie’s neck. "I may not speak as well as they speak, or dress as well as they dress. I will never be as they are, but for Anthony, I have something they don’t have, a pure love he describes as warm honey.”

  With a smile on her face, she softly padded the baby's back and continued to rock. But when she heard the front door slam, the stumbling climb up the stairs, she rose quickly. She knew they were alone at the house that night. She searched her night gown pocket for her cell phone, but it wasn’t there. She’d left it on her bedside table. Her arms tightened around the baby as she stood up from the rocking chair.

  Maggy heard Robert call out for anybody in his drunken voice. He was someone completely different when drunk. Someone who couldn’t be trusted.

  Maggy didn’t answer. She laid the baby in the crib and hoped she wouldn’t get startled and start crying.

  “Jenny!” he called, as he opened the door.

  Maggy turned. “You need to leave. Jenny isn’t her
e and my baby is sleeping.”

  “You telling me what to do in my own house?” His voice slurred, his balance impaired. But he knew what he was doing well enough. Beer, he’d always say, brought out the best in him.

  He felt even better when it came to his cousin’s wife. Everything that Anthony had, he wanted it, too.

  She was small, a thin waist but a round butt. He could see its curves through the nightgown wherever the glow of the candles shimmered through her thin night gown.

  Her breasts were like balloons, full, fuller now since she’d been breastfeeding. Whenever Anthony wasn’t around, he’d looked at her, up and down, hoping to touch her.

  He shut the door at his back. The whore he'd flirted with that night on Blood Hill Road had an obsessed ex. He was left with lust and the night wasn’t going to end until he got what he was looking for.

  “You’re from Blood Hill Road, aren’t you?”

  Maggy turned now, her finger pointed straight at him as she reminded him to leave. She hoped Anthony was there that moment and set him straight.

  Robert was the black sheep of the family, more like a disgrace, but Mayra never said anything, no one else either, as if it were to be kept secret. But everyone knew he was dangerous when drunk. He’d break things, talk bluntly and abrasively and didn’t know his own strength. It was about time he learned she wasn’t anybody to mess with.

  “Jenny is my friend and we’re not like your Blood Hill tramps. For the last time you need to leave or I’ll tell Anthony about this.”

  She saw his lustful gaze slide down from her face, watched perversion fill his eyes. It was mixed with anger. He was envious of Anthony and all that he had. He was the handsome one. The one with the wife and child and good job. She quickly grabbed the throw that covered the rocking chair and wrapped herself. “You pig. How dare you come in a nursery and disrespect your cousin’s wife.”

  “Slut.” He thought he could smell her intimidation and submission. An intoxicating scent. “You know you want to spread your legs for me now that no one is here.”